VI
I stood with folded arms, awaiting his approach. Nonchalance is always respected by the police. I must have presented a likely picture, however—my face blackened with coal-dust, cobwebs stringing down over my eyes, my Capuchin gown soiled and rent. The girl quietly took her place beside me.
"So you took a chance at the cellars, eh?" inquired the detective urbanely. "Well, you look it. Will you go with us quietly, or shall we have to use force?"
"In the first place, what do you and your police want of me?" I returned coolly.
He exhibited his star of authority.
"I am Haggerty of the Central Office. I want you for several things."
Several things? I stared at him stupidly. Several things? Then it came to me, with a jar like an earthquake. The story in the newspaper returned to my vision. Oh, this was too much, altogether too much! He took me to be the fashionable thief for whom half the New York police force were hunting. My sight swam for a moment in a blur.
"What is it you think I have done?" I demanded.
"You have, or have had, several thousand dollars' worth of gems on your person to-night."
I shrugged. The accusation was so impossible that my confidence returned.