"It was in your room, madame," the maid said—"in your dressing-room. I was going up to put everything right for the night and I saw the thief there."
"Would you recognize him again, Annette?" the countess asked.
"Pardon me, but it was not a man; it was a woman. And she had opened the drawers of your dressing table—she had papers in her hands. I came upon her suddenly, and she heard me. Then she caught me by the throat and half strangled me. Before I could recover my senses she had fled down the stairs and out of the house. The hall porter took her for a friend of yours, and did not stop her. Then I suppose that my feelings overcame me, and——"
"And you went off in hysterics," the countess said with a contemptuous smile. "So long as you did not lose the papers——"
"But, madame, the papers are gone! The second drawer on the left-hand side is empty."
Jessie saw the dark eyes blaze and the stern face of the countess stiffen with fury. It was only for a moment, and then the face smiled once more. But that flashing insight was a revelation to Jessie.
"I hope you will be able to recognize the woman again," the countess said. "Shall you? Speak, you idiot!"
For the maid's gaze had suddenly become riveted on Jessie. The sight of her face seemed to fascinate the little Frenchwoman. It was some minutes before she found words to express her thoughts.
"But behind," she said, pointing a forefinger at Jessie as if she had been some striking picture. "Behind, she is there. Not dressed like that, but in plain black; but she stole those papers. I can feel the touch of her fingers on my throat at this moment. There is the culprit, voilà!"
"Oh, this is ridiculous!" the countess cried. "How long since this has happened?"