“Be quiet!” snapped Ralph in a low voice, keeping quite calm. “I’ll answer for its being all right. How many detectives are there?”
“Two.”
“And two policemen. Then it’s no use trying force; and we’re surrounded. Where are those trunks they’ve searched?”
“Upstairs.”
“Where’s the staircase to them?”
“Here,” she said, pointing to the door on the right.
“Right. You stay here; and don’t give yourself away. Once more I tell you, I’ll answer for its turning out all right.”
Again he took the Countess by the arm and drew her towards the door Mother Vasseur had pointed out. A very narrow staircase brought them to a bedroom under the sloping roof. About it were spread all the frocks and lingerie which the detectives had turned out of two trunks. As they came into it they heard the two detectives come out of the room in which they had been lunching, into the bar; and when Ralph, crossing the room on noiseless feet, peered out through the window under the eaves, he saw the two policemen dismount and tie the reins of their horses to the posts of the garden gate.
The Countess did not stir. Ralph noticed that her face, haggard with fear and anxiety, had perceptibly aged.
“Quick!” he said sharply. “You must change that frock. Put on another ... a black one for choice.”