“Did they see you?”
Miss Cordier lifted eloquent shoulders. “How do I know, monsieur? Maybe they do, maybe they don’t—me, I cannot tell. I step back quick and listen, and after a while their voices stop and I hear a door close, and I come out quick through the hall and into the door to the kitchen without I see no one.”
“Did you hear what Mr. Farwell and Mrs. Ives were saying?”
“No, that I could not hear even when I listen, so low they talk, so low that almost they whisper.”
“You heard nothing else while you were there?”
“Yes, monsieur. While I stand by the desk, but before I take out the book, I heard mademoiselle go through the hall with the children.”
“Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle who?” The prosecutor’s voice was expressionless enough, but there was a prophetic shadow of annoyance in his narrowed eyes.
“Mademoiselle Page.”
“You say that she was simply passing through the hall?”
“Yes, monsieur—on her way to the stairs.”