y, if the enemy saw it
too. But I had not long to wait before being satisfied on this point.
The keen-eyed Frenchman gave no further instructions to his baffled
subordinates, but crossing the room to the sofa stood staring at it
fixedly. Then, grasping the back with his capable-looking hand, instead
of beginning at once a quest which his gendarmes had abandoned, he
searched the face of the tortured woman.

Unflinching in courage, she seemed not to see him. But it was as if she
had suddenly ceased to breathe. Her bosom no longer rose and fell. The
only movement was the visible knocking of her heart. I felt that, in
another moment, if he found what she had hidden, her heart would knock
no longer, and she would die. For a second I wildly counted the chances
of overpowering all three men, stunning them into unconsciousness, and
giving Maxine time to escape with the letter-case. But I knew the
attempt would be useless. Even if I could succeed, the noise would
arouse the hotel. People would come. Other policemen would rush in to
the help of their comrades, and matters would be worse with us than
before.

The Frenchman, having looked at Maxine, and seen that tell-tale beating
of her bodice, deliberately laid the silk cushions on the floor. Then,
pushing his hand down between the seat and the back of the sofa, he
moved it along the crevice inch by inch.

I watched the hand, which looked cruel to me as that of an executioner.
I think Maxine watched it, too. Suddenly it stopped. It had found
something. The other hand sprang to its assistance. Both worked
together, groping and prying for a few seconds: evidently the something
hidden had been forced deeply and firmly down. Then, up it came--a dark
red leather case, which was neither a letter-case nor a jewel-case, but
might be used for either. My heart almost stopped beating in the intense
relief I felt. For this was not the thing I had come from London to
bring Maxine.

I could hardly keep back a cry of joy. But I did keep it back, for
suspense and anxiety had left me a few grains of sense.

"Voila!" grunted the Commissary of Police. "I said that you were clever,
Mademoiselle. But it would have been as well for all concerned if you
had spared us this trouble."

"You alone are to blame for the trouble," answered Maxine. "I never saw
that thing before in my life."

I was astonished that there was no ring of satisfaction in her voice. It
sounded hard and defiant, but there w