"Il n'y a pas de quoi, madame" said the man happily. "I see it fall and I run after you, but always you're too quick. Now it's all right. I am content. Madame, you permit me to say you are a brave woman? I also saw everysing. Zat Baron —"
All at once the girl hid her face in her hands.
"I don't know how to thank you," she said chokingly. "You're all so sweet… Oh, my God! If only I could kill him! He deserves to be killed. He deserves to lose his beastly bracelet. I'd steal it myself —"
"Ah, but then you would be in prison, madame —"
"Oh, it'd be easy enough. It's on the ground floor… — you'd only have to break open the desk. He doesn't believe in burglar-alarms. He's so sure of himself. But I'd show him. I'd make him pay!"
She turned away to the corner and sobbed hysterically.
Simon glanced at the little Frenchman.
"Elle se trouvera mieux chez elle," he said; and the other nodded sympathetically and closed the door.
The taxi drew away in a wedge of traffic and turned up Regent Street. Simon sat back in his corner and let the girl have her cry. It was the best possible thing for her; and he could have said nothing helpful.
They had a practically clear run through to St. John's Wood; and the girl recovered a little as they neared their destination. She wiped her eyes and took out a microscopic powder puff, with the unalterable vanity of women.