“She did not. All we could get out of her was that she was English.”
Felix bent nearer. “Will you please describe her a little closer? I have a reason for knowing.”
The sergeant caught the look of determination, dallied with a tin paper-cutter, bent his head on one side, and pursed a pair of thick lips. It was a strain on his memory, this recalling the features of one of a dozen prisoners, but somehow he dared not refuse.
“Well, she was one of the pocket kind of women, small and well put up but light built, you know. She had blue eyes—big ones—I noticed 'em partic'lar—and about the smallest pair of feet I ever seen on a girl. She stumbled down-stairs and caught her dress, and I remember they was about as big as a kid's. That was another thing set me to wondering how she got into a scrape like this. She could have done a lot better if she had a-wanted to,” this last came with a leer.
Felix clenched his teeth, and drove his nails into the palms of his hands. He would have throttled the man had he dared.
“Did she make any defense?” he asked, when he had himself under control again.
“No—there warn't no use—she owned up to having pinched it. Not here at the desk, but to Rosenthal's man who made the charge—that is, she didn't deny it. The stuff was worth $250. That's a felony, you know.”
Kitty saw Felix sway for an instant, and was about to put out a protecting hand when he turned again to the lieutenant.
“Officer, I do not ask you to break your rules, but I would consider it an especial favor if you would let me see this woman for a moment—even if you do not permit me to speak to her.”
“Well, you can't see her.” The reply came with some positiveness and a slight touch of irony. He had made up his mind now that if the speaker had a pull, he would meet it by keeping strictly to the regulations.