“Her figure, as seen in the photograph, appears very tall—too tall for a woman,” persisted Nick.
“Nevertheless, Detective Carter, I am positive that she was a woman, and not a man in female apparel,” declared Mrs. Badger, with emphasis. “Not only her garments and voice plainly prove it, but I also noticed her hands. They were too slender, white, and well formed for the hands of a man.”
Nick now laughed lightly, remarking, in bantering tones, not then attributing any serious weight to his words:
“That last, Mrs. Badger, is capital. Yet I must observe that, for one too terrified at the time to say or do anything but obey the commands of that brace of crooks, you did note some quite delicate details. Small hands, eh? Well, well, I think quite likely you are right.”
A wave of crimson had risen over Mrs. Badger’s face, while on that of her husband a darker frown was settling.
“I only happened to notice the woman’s hands, Detective Carter, merely because she held in one of them the revolver by which I was so frightened, and from which I scarcely could take my eyes. Naturally, then, I noticed the hand that held it.”
Nick vaguely wondered why she had gone to the trouble to make this explanation, for there seemed to him to be no special occasion for it; and before he could frame any reply, Badger huskily demanded, with sinister curiosity:
“Why are you pressing such questions as these, Detective Carter? I fail to see that they signify anything very important.”
“It signifies considerable to me, Mr. Badger, this question of sex,” replied Nick, with a quiet laugh.
“Why so?”