(They look considerately at the floor; she bursts into tears and runs into the pantry, shutting the door.)
POLICEMAN (with melancholy satisfaction). It’s infallayble.
BODIE. At any rate it shows that there’s nothing against her.
POLICEMAN (taking him further from the pantry door, in a low voice). I dunno. There’s some queer things. Where does she go when she leaves this house? What about that ball?—and her German connection?—and them boards she makes into boxes—and A. C. Celeste? Well, I’ll find out.
BODIE (miserably). What are you going to do?
POLICEMAN. To track her when she leaves here. I may have to adopt a disguise. I’m a masterpiece at that.
BODIE. Yes, but—
POLICEMAN (stamping about the floor with the exaggerated tread of the Law). I’ll tell you the rest outside. I must make her think that my suspicions are—allayed. (He goes cunningly to the pantry door and speaks in a loud voice.) Well, sir, that satisfies me that she’s not the party I was in search of, and so, with your permission, I’ll bid you good evening. What, you’re going out yourself? Then I’ll be very happy to walk part of the way with you.
(Nodding and winking, he goes off with heavy steps, taking with him the reluctant MR. BODIE, who like one mesmerised also departs stamping.
MISS THING peeps out to make sure that they are gone. She is wearing her hat and jacket, which have restored her self-respect. The tears have been disposed of with a lick of the palm. She is again a valiant soul who has had too many brushes with the police not to be able to face another with a tight lip. She is going, but she is not going without her wooden board; law or no law she cannot do without wooden boards. She gets it from a corner where it has been artfully concealed. An imprudent glance at the Venus again dispirits her. With a tape she takes the Beauty’s measurements and then her own, with depressing results. The Gods at last pity her, and advise an examination of her rival’s foot. Excursions, alarms, transport. She compares feet and is glorified. She slips off her shoe and challenges Venus to put it on. Then, with a derisive waggle of her foot at the shamed goddess, the little enigma departs on her suspicious business, little witting that a masterpiece of a constable is on her track.)