Rouletta Kirby spent an anxious and a thoughtful night. The more she dwelt upon Laure's peculiar behavior the more it roused her suspicions and the more she felt justified in seeking an interview with Colonel Cavendish. She rose early, therefore, and went to Police Headquarters.
Two people were in the office when she entered, one a redcoat, evidently acting in some clerical capacity; the other a girl whom Rouletta had never seen. The colonel was engaged, so Rouletta was told, and she sat down to wait. With furtive curiosity she began to study this other young woman. It was plain that the latter was a privileged person, for she made herself perfectly at home and appeared to be not in the least chilled by the official formality of her surroundings. She wandered restlessly about the room, humming a tune under her breath; she readjusted the window-curtains to her liking; she idly thumbed the books upon the shelves; finally she perched herself upon the table in the midst of the documents upon which the officer was engaged, and began a low-voiced conversation with him.
Rouletta was not a little impressed by this stranger. She had never seen a finer, healthier, cleaner-cut girl. Here for once was a "nice" woman of the town who did not stare at her with open and offensive curiosity. She was not surprised when she overheard the Police officer address her as "Miss Cavendish." No wonder this girl had poise and breeding—the Cavendishes were the best people in the community. With a jealous pang the caller reflected that the colonel's daughter was very much what she herself would like to be, very much her ideal, so far as she could judge.
When, eventually, the commandant himself emerged from his sanctum, he paused for a moment at his daughter's side; then he approached Rouletta.
Very briefly the latter made known the reason of her presence, and the colonel nodded.
"You did quite right in coming here," he declared, "and I'm sure this dance-hall girl knows more than she has told. In fact, I was on the point of sending for her. Please wait until she arrives. Perhaps we can straighten out this whole unpleasant affair informally. I'll need Phillips, too. Meanwhile, there's a friend of yours inside." Stepping to the inner door, he spoke to some one, and an instant later the Countess Courteau came forth.
Rouletta had not seen the Countess alone since early the previous evening. She went swiftly to her now and placed an arm about her shoulders. Hilda responded to this mark of sympathy with a weary smile.
"Well, I had to go through with it to the bitter end," she said, in a low voice. "Henri didn't spare me even that."
Rouletta pressed her closer, murmuring: "Colonel Cavendish is a fine man—I'm sure he understands. You've undergone a dreadful ordeal, but—it's nearly over. He's sending for Laure now. She can tell a good deal, if she will."
"About the theft, yes. But what about the—murder? Joe McCaskey did it. There's no doubt about that. Henri weakened, after I gave him his chance. He got to drinking, I hear, and evidently he conceived the notion of telling those men. He may have gone to warn them, to appeal to them. I don't know. Then they must have quarreled. It's all clear enough when you understand the inside facts. Without knowing them, it was natural to suspect Pierce, so—I did what I had to do. I doubt if Laure knows anything about this part of the affair."