“Now, Mrs. Winton, can you give some description of the woman in the case—her appearance—how she was dressed—anything to aid us in identifying her?”
“I’m afraid I can’t be of much help,” Mrs. Winton replied. “She was, I think, clad in a dark street gown. In the uncertain electric light, I could not distinguish the colour—and the men were so close to her I had little chance to see. About all I’m sure of is that it was a woman; slender and about the average height. I did not see her face.”
The Chief nodded again.
“What about the house, Mrs. Winton? Did you see anything unusual before tonight?”
“I saw no one but the servants—though I didn’t look quite all the time,” she added with a smile. “I’m not unduly curious, I think, Major Ranleigh, under the, to me, unusual circumstances; and in mitigation of my curiosity, I’ve told no one of the matter.”
“You’re a woman of rare discretion, Mrs. Winton,” the Superintendent replied.
“I fear I’m a busy-body,” she returned.
“I wish then there were more busy-bodies of your sort. Tell me, could you recognize the men?”
“Not with any assurance.—Neither could I recognize the occupants of the house,” she added. “The truth is, though you may doubt, that I scarcely notice them; but one can’t see a to-let-unfurnished sign on a house opposite for six months, without remarking its sudden disappearance from the landscape.”
“I should say that you wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t notice—and comment, too,” Ranleigh declared. “And the Department is much indebted to you for the information, and it appreciates the spirit that moves you in the matter.”