"Gee! Here's the ball come back again!"
A new light shone into the room. She seemed to be breathing a different
atmosphere--the atmosphere of hope. She listened no longer with horror for
a creaking upon the stairs. She walked back and forth until she was
exhausted.... Curiously enough, when the end came she was asleep, crouched
upon the bed and dreaming wildly. She sprang up to find Inspector French,
with a policeman behind him, standing upon the threshold.
"Inspector!" she cried, rushing towards him. "Mr. French! Oh, thank God!"
Her feelings carried her away. She threw herself at his feet. She was
laughing and crying and talking incoherently, all at the same time. The
Inspector assisted her to a chair.
"Say, what's all this mean?" he demanded.
She told him her story, incoherently, in broken phrases. French listened
with puzzled frown.
"Say, what about Quest?" he asked. "He ain't been here at all, then?"
She looked at him wonderingly.
"Of course not! Mr. Quest--"
She hesitated. The Inspector laid his hand upon her wrist. Then he
realised that she was on the point of a nervous breakdown, and in no
condition for interrogations.
"That'll do," he said. "I'll take care of you for a time, young lady, and
I'll ask you a few questions later on. My men are searching the house. You
and I will be getting on, if you can tear yourself away."
She laughed hysterically and hurried him towards the door. As they passed
down the gloomy stairs she clung to his arm.
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