"Well?"
Now her agitation, increased, she seemed about to make some statement, but checked herself and simply insisted that she knew nothing about the shooting. No one had entered the room except herself and Martinez and the waiter who served them. They had finished the soup; Martinez had left his seat for a moment; he was standing near her when—when the shot was fired and he fell to the floor. She had no idea where the shot came from or who fired it. She was frightened and hurried away from the hotel. That was all.
Coquenil smiled indulgently. "What did you do with the auger?" he asked.
"The auger?" she gasped.
"Yes, it was seen by the cab driver you took when you slipped out of the hotel in the telephone girl's rain coat."
"You know that?"
He nodded and went on: "This cab driver remembers that you had something under your arm wrapped in a newspaper. Was that the auger?"
"Yes," she answered weakly.
"And you threw it into the Seine as you crossed the Concorde bridge?"
She stared at him in genuine admiration: "My God, you're the cleverest man I ever met!"