As she got up there was another movement and murmur in the crowd, quickly suppressed as she began to speak. Madame Rochal knew her audience. Beauty had always been her weapon, but she had always had the good sense to realize that intelligence in this assemblage was the greater asset. She wore no rouge and though she wore her clothing smartly, this was somber and of the plainest.
"Madame Rochal--will you tell the Committee your judgment as to Herr Rowland?"
Her fine teeth showed in the most ingenuous of smiles.
"He is a man," she said, with quick enthusiasm in her very slightly foreign accent. "And you may be sure that I know what a man is like."
A nervous laugh from somewhere near the middle room broke the silence and then a ripple of amusement passed over the crowd. Their nervous tension was broken and with their smiles came their sympathy. Zoya Rochal was en rapport at once. She was the center of interest and very much enjoying herself.
"A man, yes," said Senf smiling, "but as to his character, his loyalty, honesty, devotion----?"
"I would trust Herr Rowland," she said gravely, "to the very ends of the world."
"You know then that it is not he who could have taken this money?"
"That would not have been possible. Until this afternoon either Herr Liederman or myself was with him constantly."
Herr Senf nodded his head and looked at his watch upon the table. It seemed that he was playing for time.