“Are you not surprised!” she cried impatiently. “Goody-goody Maida with her fastidious, touch-me-not ways was in the orchard with Louis after midnight last Thursday night.”
“No,” said O’Leary. “No. I am not surprised.”
“I heard the whole conversation,” continued Corole, as if bent on getting some sort of more spirited reaction out of the detective. “I was there in the shadows and heard the whole thing. Louis was wild about Maida—I’m sure I don’t know why. Anyway, she did not hesitate to tell him that she didn’t return his love.” Corole smiled a very cruel little smile. “Poor Louis! They talked for some time. Louis was one of these cold-natured men, as a rule. I was surprised to hear him. It was better than a play.”
“Could you see them?” inquired O’Leary drily.
“It was black as tar. But I knew their voices. And anyway I can see in the dark like a cat, so I could tell about where they were—could see the outline of Maida’s uniform and Louis’s shirt front.”
“They could see each other, of course?” asked O’Leary nonchalantly.
“No, I shouldn’t think so. I thought I told you that I can see in the dark better than most people. I’m sure they couldn’t see each other for I remember that when they met and began to talk, Maida sort of gasped and said ‘Who is it?’ and Louis answered her.”
“How long did they talk?”
“Not long. Perhaps ten or fifteen minutes.”
“That was about what time?”