“I have,” replied Miss Knowles. “Some nights ago I secreted it on the floor above, and when everything was quiet I went there.”
“You sat in an alcove behind some curtains,” said Bat. “It was dark. The window was open. You picked at the strings of the harp, but made no sound.”
“You saw me?” the girl seemed startled.
“I did. What were you doing?”
“What I had seen done more than once before. And I was trying to understand.”
Once more Scanlon looked toward Ashton-Kirk, and now that gentleman spoke.
“This interest in Schwartzberg as to the location of the wind of an evening. You noticed it?”
“Yes.” The girl’s blue eyes went to the speaker, full of interest. “But, like the other things, I could never understand it.”
“You saw some one strike the harp strings at night at an open window; was it always the same window?”
“No.”