The door was opened slightly by a woman.
Nick didn’t waste a word in parleying, but pushed his way in—the chief of police following.
The woman made a vain effort to stop them, but she was helpless to stay their entrance.
In half a minute they had locked the door, and led her into a better-lighted room beyond.
“What means this outrage?” panted the woman.
The chief of police showed his insignia of office, and replied:
“It means, Madame Reclaire, that you’ll give us some information which we want, or go to jail, charged with being accessory to murder.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
AT MADAME RECLAIRE’S.
Madame Reclaire’s face grew ghastly. Her attempted bravado faded away in an instant. She caught at a chair for support.
“Murder!” she gasped.