Then, suddenly, clutching at a last straw of hope, she yielded or seemed to yield. "As long as a search must be made," she said with a sort of half-defiant dignity, "I prefer to have you make it, and not these men."
"I think that is wise," bowed M. Paul.
"In which room will you begin?"
"In this room."
"I give you my word there are no letters here, but, as you don't believe me, why—do what you like."
"I would like to look in that desk," said the detective.
"Very well—look!"
Coquenil went to the desk and examined it carefully. There were two drawers in a raised part at the back, there was a long, wide drawer in front, and over this a space like a drawer under a large inlaid cover, hinged at the back. He searched everywhere here, but found no sign of the expected letters.
"I must have been mistaken," he muttered, and he continued his search in other parts of the room, Pussy hovering about with changing expressions that reminded M. Paul of children's faces when they play the game of "hot or cold."
"Well," he said, with an air of disappointment, "I find nothing here. Suppose we try another room."