"Your hat, Monsieur?" he said gravely, returning it.
Nora laughed maliciously. The author of the abortive flirtation fled down
to the body of the tram.
And now there was no one on top but Nora and her erstwhile jailer, whom
she did not recognize in the least.
* * * * *
"Mademoiselle," said the great policeman soberly, "this is a grave
accusation to make."
"I make it, nevertheless," replied Nora. She sat stiffly in her chair, her
face colorless, dark circles under her eyes. She never looked toward
Courtlandt.
"But Monsieur Courtlandt has offered an alibi such as we can not ignore.
More than that, his integrity is vouched for by the gentleman at his side,
whom doubtless Mademoiselle recognizes."
Nora eyed the great man doubtfully.
"What is the gentleman to you?" she was interrogated.
"Absolutely nothing," contemptuously.
The minister inspected his rings.
"He has annoyed me at various times," continued Nora; "that is all. And
his actions on Friday night warrant every suspicion I have entertained
against him."
The chief of police turned toward the bandaged chauffeur. "You recognize
the gentleman?"
"No, Monsieur, I never saw him before. It was an old man who engaged me."
"Go on."
"He said that Mademoiselle's old teacher was very ill and asked for
assistance. I left Mademoiselle at the house and drove away. I was hired
from the garage. That is the truth, Monsieur."
Nora smiled disbelievingly. Doubtless he had been paid well for that lie.
"And you?" asked the chief of Nora's chauffeur.
"He is certainly the gentleman, Monsieur, who attempted to bribe me."
"That is true," said Courtlandt with utmost calmness.
"Mademoiselle, if Monsieur Courtlandt wished, he could accuse you of
attempting to shoot him."
"It was an accident. His sudden appearance in my apartment frightened me.
Besides, I believe a woman who lives comparatively alone has a legal and
moral right to protect herself from such unwarrantable intrusions. I wish
him no physical injury, but I am determined to be annoyed by him no
longer."
The minister's eyes sought Courtlandt's face obliquely. Strange young man,
he thought. From the expression of his face he might have been a spectator
rather than the person most vitally concerned in this little scene. And
what a pair they made!
"Monsieur Courtlandt, you will give me your word of honor not to annoy
Mademoiselle again?"
"I promise never to annoy her again."
For the briefest moment the blazing blue eyes clashed with the calm brown
ones. The latter were first to deviate from the line. It was not agreeable
to look into a pair of eyes burning with the hate of one's self. Perhaps
this conflagration was intensified by the placidity of his gaze. If only
there had been some sign of anger, of contempt, anything but this
incredible tranquillity against which she longed to cry out! She was too
wrathful to notice the quickening throb of the veins on his temples.