LADY MOLLY OF SCOTLAND YARD
eyes were fixed on the beautiful woman who had just told us her strange story, with its unaccountable sequel, its mystery which had deepened with the last phrase which she had uttered. Miss Löwenthal, I felt sure, was conscious of her peril. I am not sufficiently a psychologist to know whether it was guilt or merely fear which was distorting the handsome features now, hardening the face and causing the lips to tremble.
Lady Molly scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, which she then passed over to the chief. Miss Löwenthal was making visible efforts to steady her nerves.
"That is all I have to tell you," she said, in a voice which sounded dry and harsh. "I think I will go home now."
But she did not rise from her chair, and seemed to hesitate as if fearful lest permission to go were not granted her.
To her obvious astonishment—and, I must add, to my own—the chief immediately rose and said, quite urbanely:
"I thank you very much for the helpful information which you have given me. Of course, we may rely on your presence in town for the next few days, may we not?"
She seemed greatly relieved, and all at once resumed her former charm of manner and elegance of attitude. The beautiful face was lit up by a smile.
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