“What is it, miss?” answered the policeman.
“I mustn’t point,” she said. “Look where I look.”
And she looked away with brilliant eyes, into the dark holly bushes. She must see something, for she smiled faintly, with subtle satisfaction, and she tossed her erect head in all the pride of vindication. The policeman looked at her instead of into the bushes. There was a certain brilliance of triumph and vindication in all the poise of her slim body.
“I always knew I should see him,” she said triumphantly to herself.
“Whom do you see?” shouted the man in the bowler hat.
“Don’t you see him, too?” she asked, turning round her soft, arch, nymphlike face anxiously. She was anxious for the little man to see.
“No, I see nothing. What do you see, James?” cried the man in the bowler hat, insisting.
“A man.”
“Where?”
“There. Among the holly bushes.”