He returned to the window; and while she changed watched the detectives and the policemen talking in the garden and tried to catch what they were saying. When she had changed, and she was quick about it, he caught up the grey frock she had just taken off and slipped into it. For all his strength, he was uncommonly slender, with a lissom figure. The frock fitted him to perfection; the long skirt of the period, when he had pulled it down hard, hid his feet passably; and he appeared to be so delighted with this disguise and so easy in his mind that the young woman began to recover her confidence.
The voices of the police in the garden rose higher, and they could hear what they were saying.
“Listen,” he said.
The four men were standing at the garden gate. One of the policemen said in the rough drawling voice of the countrymen:
“Are you quite sure that she stayed here occasionally?”
“Quite sure. And the proof of it is that there are two trunks of hers which she has left in storage here. One of them has her name painted on it—Madam Pellegrini. Besides, Mother Vasseur is a respectable woman, isn’t she?” said one of the detectives.
“There isn’t a more respectable woman than Mother Vasseur in this part of the country,” said the policeman.
“Well, Mother Vasseur declares that this Madam Pellegrini has been in the habit of coming from time to time to stay with her for a day or two.”
“Between two burglaries, you bet!”
“Exactly.”