He nodded gloomily. "It's no great trick, once one knows it; with an ordinary safe, that is, such as you're apt to find in a private home. Have you looked for finger-prints?"
"Not yet."
"Have you any idea how the thieves broke in?"
"Through this very window, I imagine. You see, I was up early and, in my agitation, dressed hurriedly and came downstairs hours before I usually do. The servants were already up, but hadn't opened the living rooms for the day. I myself found this window unlatched. The fastening is insecure, you see; it has been out of order for some time."
Duchemin was on his feet, examining the latch. "True," he said; "but might not the wind--?"
"There was no wind to speak of last night, monsieur, and what there was didn't blow from that quarter." She added as Duchemin stepped out through the window: "Where are you going?"
"To look for footprints on the tiling. It was misting when I went to bed, and with the mud--"
"But there was a heavy shower just before daybreak. If the thieves had left any tracks on the terrasse, the rain must have washed them clean away. I have already looked."
With a baffled gesture, Duchemin turned back to her side.
"You have communicated with the police, of course."