“Then it would be a feather in our caps to capture this Madam Pellegrini?”
“It would indeed—larceny—swindling—receiving stolen goods—the whole bag of tricks in fact—and a swarm of confederates,” said one of the detectives.
“Have they got a description of her?” asked the policeman.
“Yes and no,” replied the detective.
“Yes and no?”
“They have two portraits of her which are entirely different. One is the portrait of a young woman, the other of an old one. As to her age, it is set as between thirty and sixty.”
They laughed; then the rough voice of the country policeman went on: “But you’re on her track?”
“Again yes and no. A fortnight ago she was working at Rouen and Dieppe. There we lost track of her. We found it again on the main line and lost it again. Did she go straight on to le Havre or turn off towards Fécamp? It is impossible to say. She has completely disappeared and left us floundering,” said the detective.
“And what made you come here?”
“Just a chance. A railway porter who brought trunks here on a truck remembered that the name of Pellegrini was painted on one of them, and that it had been hidden under a label which came unstuck.”