As her eyebrows went up a fraction, I could have murdered him, for how
else could she read his statement save that I took her for the thief?

"I am very sorry," I explained, bowing formally, "to disturb you. We
are hunting a thief who took French leave by my fire-escape. I must have
been mistaken--I thought that he dodged in again by this window. You
have not seen or heard anything of him, of course?"

"No, I haven't. But then, I just this instant came up from dinner,"
she replied. Her low, contralto tones, quite impersonal, were yet
delightful; I could have stood there talking burglars with her till
dawn. "Do you wish to come in and make sure that he is not in hiding?"
With a half smile for which I didn't blame her, she moved a step aside.

"Certainly not!" I said firmly, ignoring a nudge from the policeman.
"He left before you came--there was ample time. It is not of the least
consequence, anyhow. Again I beg your pardon." As she inclined her head,
I bowed, and closed the door.

"I trust Mr. Bayne, that you are satisfied at last." This was the St.
Ives manager, and I did not like his tone.

"I am satisfied of several things," I retorted sharply, "but before I
share them with you, will you kindly tell me your name?"

"My name is Ritter," he said with dignity. "I confess I fail to see what
bearing--"

"Call it curiosity," I interrupted. "Doctor, favor me with yours."