“Shadows?” questioned Anne, frowning in her perplexity.
“Spies, if monsieur permits the word,” with a spiteful look at Inspector Mitchell. “The poor girl is distracted with fear.”
“What is she afraid of?” demanded Mitchell quickly.
Susanne partly turned her back on him without answering.
“Please, mademoiselle,” she began, addressing Anne, “Gretchen must have peace, or she be ill. She is a good girl.”
“She is!” Anne spoke with sudden energy. “Come, Inspector, there is no law which permits you to introduce spies into our household.”
“I beg your pardon,” Mitchell spoke stiffly. “We have not exceeded our rights. Investigations have to be conducted when a crime has been committed.”
“A crime?”
“Yes, madam; and the greatest crime of all—murder, cold-blooded premeditated murder.”
Curtis, standing close beside Anne, heard her sudden intake of breath, but she faced Mitchell with no other indication of emotion.