"Through this very window, I imagine. You see, I was up early and, in
my agitation, dressed hurriedly and came downstairs hours before I
usually do. The servants were already up, but hadn't opened the living
rooms for the day. I myself found this window unlatched. The fastening
is insecure, you see; it has been out of order for some time."

Duchemin was on his feet, examining the latch. "True," he said; "but
might not the wind--?"

"There was no wind to speak of last night, monsieur, and what there was
didn't blow from that quarter." She added as Duchemin stepped out
through the window: "Where are you going?"

"To look for footprints on the tiling. It was misting when I went to
bed, and with the mud--"

"But there was a heavy shower just before daybreak. If the thieves had
left any tracks on the terrasse, the rain must have washed them clean
away. I have already looked."

With a baffled gesture, Duchemin turned back to her side.

"You have communicated with the police, of course."

She interrupted with an accent almost of impatience: "I have told
nobody but you, monsieur, not even my mother and Louise."

"But why?"