The little man looked at her distrustfully. He had put his confidence in two American citizens that day, and with dire results.
“We’ll see about that later.” The police sergeant scowled.
“I think—” His scowl had turned to a smile when, a few moments later, after completing his investigation and interrogating Florence, he turned to the Frenchman. “I think—at least it’s my opinion—that you’ll be safe enough in this young lady’s company.
“If she’d go to the trouble of hirin’ a taxi and followin’ you, then breakin’ down a door and riskin’ her life to rescue you from a bloody pair of kidnappers and murderers, she’s not goin’ to take you far from where you want to go.”
“I am overcome!” The Frenchman bowed low. “I shall accompany her with the greatest assurance.”
So, side by side, the curious little Frenchman and the girl marched away.
“But, Mademoiselle!” The Frenchman seemed dazed. “Why all this late unpleasantness?”
“Those two!” Florence threw out her arms. “They’d have tortured you to death. They thought, as I did, that you were in possession of money, a great deal of money.”
“In France,” the man exclaimed in evident disgust, “we execute such men!”
“In America,” Florence replied quietly, “we mostly don’t. And what a pity!