Perrot hastened to find it in the book, and the date confirmed his statement.
“Was the costume seen, or let to any other person, during the week?” Nick inquired.
“It was, monsieur,” Perrot said quickly. “It was let two days later to a young woman who—wait! I will show you. Ha, it is here! To Miss Belle Blair, Boston Road, Fordham. She paid in advance and returned it ze next day. It was in ze pairfect order. One would not think she had worn it.”
“Nor had she,” Nick said dryly.
“Hey! What is that? You think——”
“I think, Perrot, that you must say nothing of any of this to others,” Nick pointedly interrupted. “There is a crime involved, and I rely upon your discretion.”
“Pardieu! You may safely do so.”
“The Night costume was hired only in order to make one so nearly resembling it as to defy ordinary inspection,” Nick added. “But the name of the woman is not Belle Blair, nor does she reside in Fordham. She is a crook, as well as the said Talbot.”
“That’s dead open and shut, chief,” remarked Patsy. “They worked along the same lines.”
“Exactly,” Nick nodded; then, to Perrot: “Have the costumes let to Mr. and Mrs. Waldmere been returned?”