"Agreed. I'm not asking anything else from you."
In a study she rose and went to the mantelpiece and took one book from the heap of books there. She opened it and glanced abstractedly through the leaves as they flittered under her fingers.
With her eyes on the page headings she said to him: "I quarrel with one of your premises."
"Which one?"
"The one that the woman we want will have the paper hidden in her hair or in her corsage or possibly in her stocking."
"Well, I couldn't think of any other likely place in which she might hide it. She wouldn't have it in a pocket, would she? Women don't have pockets in their party frocks, do they?"
Disregarding his questions she asked one herself:
"You say it is a small strip of paper, and that probably it is rolled up into a wad about the size of a hazelnut?"
"It was rolled up so when Westerfeltner parted from it—that's all I can tell you. Why do you ask that?"
"Oh, it doesn't particularly matter. I merely was thinking of various possibilities and contingencies."