"Now, old girl," said the first officer, tightly gripping her arm and giving it that twist which if a policeman does not give an arm he is no policeman, "what's your little game, eh?"
"I—I live here, sir. I'm the housekeeper."
"Now don't try to put that over on us. You know you ain't."
"You must be new policemen, in this neighborhood," trembled Matilda, "or you'd know I am."
"We may be new cops, but we don't fall for old stuff like that. I was talkin' to Mrs. De Peyster's coachman only yesterday. He told me the housekeeper wasn't here no more. So better change your line o' dope. Where's the other one?"
"Wha—what other one?"
"The one what come in here with you."
"I'm the only person in the house," Matilda tried to declare valiantly.
"Drop it!" said the officer. "Didn't the boss tell us to keep our eyes on these here millionaires' closed houses; all kinds o' slick crooks likely to clean 'em out. An' didn't we see two women come in this house,—hey, Bill?"
"Sure—I was a block off, but I seen 'em plain as day," said Bill.