sudden change of tone, rising to his feet as he spoke. "Rolfe, keep an
eye on her while I search the flat."

Rolfe crossed over from where he had been sitting and stood beside the
girl. She glanced up at him wildly, with terror dawning in the depths of
her dark eyes.

"What do you mean? How dare you?" she cried, in an effort to be
indignant.

"Now, don't try your tragedy airs on us," said the inspector. "We've no
time for them. If you won't tell the truth you had better say nothing
at all." He plunged his hand into a _jardiniere_ and withdrew a
briar-wood pipe. "This looks to me like Birchill's property. Keep that
dog back, Rolfe."

The little dog had sprung off his cushion and was eagerly following the
inspector out of the room. Rolfe caught up the animal in his arms, and
returned to where the girl was sitting. Her face was white and strained,
and her big dark eyes followed Inspector Chippenfield, but she did not
speak. The inspector tramped noisily into the little hall, leaving the
door of the room wide open. Rolfe and the girl saw him fling open the
door of another room--a bedroom--and stride into it. He came out again
shortly, and went down the hall to the rear of the flat. A few minutes
later he came back to the room where he had left Rolfe and the girl. His
knees were dusty, and some feathers were adhering to his jacket, as
though he had been plunging in odd nooks and corners, and beneath beds.
He was hot, flurried, and out of temper.

"The bird's flown!" were his first words, addressed to Rolfe. "I've
hunted high and low, but I cannot find a sign of him. It beats me how
he's managed it. He couldn't have gone out the front way without my
seeing him go past the door, and the back windows are four stories high
from the ground."

"Perhaps he wasn't here when we came in," suggested Rolfe.

"Oh, yes, he was. Why, he'd been smoking that pipe in this very room. She
was clever enough to open the window to let out the tobacco smoke before
she let us in, but she didn't hide the pipe properly, for I saw the smoke
from it coming out of the _jardiniere_, and when I put my hand on the
bowl it was hot. Feel it now."

Rolfe placed his hand on the pipe, which Inspector Chippenfield had
deposited on the table. The bowl was still warm, indicating that the pipe
had recently been alight.

"He must have been smoking the pipe when we knocked at the door, and
dashed away to hide before she let us in," grumbled the inspector.