“I think you’re too hard upon them, ma’am,” said he. “They think they’ve got a pretty good clue already. And they quite expect to make an arrest before many days are over.”
Miss Bostal, who had followed him into the drawing-room, and was proceeding to light a solitary candle, after her hospitable custom, shrugged her little, thin shoulders impatiently.
“They always say that. But what do you think?”
The detective did not answer at once. And when she turned to inquire the reason of this, she perceived by the expression of his face something had startled him.
“What is the matter?” she asked, quickly.
“I suppose these doings have made me nervous, like the rest of them, ma’am,” answered he, looking down at his hat, and brushing it carefully with his hand. “For I fancied I saw somebody looking in at the window.”
Miss Bostal looked at him curiously. It seemed to her that from where he stood he could see neither of the windows, nor even the reflection of one of them in the glass over the mantelpiece. However, she knew better than to argue with a detective. She walked to the windows, one after the other, and looked out.
“I don’t see anybody,” said she. “It may have been one of the urchins of the place, peeping in out of curiosity. This room is not much used, and the light may have attracted him.”
“Very likely, ma’am.”
“And now what is there we can do for you, for, of course, you have come on business?”