After that I was sent back into the hall where I’d left her and told to bring her into the old man’s private office. We went up the passage, a murmur of voices growing louder as we advanced. She was ahead and, as the door opened, she stopped for a moment on the threshold, quick, like a horse that wants to shy. Over her shoulder I could see in, and I don’t wonder she pulled up—any one would. There, beside the Chief and Mr. George, were the two old Janneys and Mrs. Price, sitting stiff as statues, each of them with their eyes on her, gimlet-sharp and gimlet-hard. They said some sort of "How d’ye do" business and made bows like Chinese mandarins, but their faces would have made a chorus girl get thoughtful. I guessed then they knew about the tapped message and had come to see Miss Maitland get the third degree. She scented the trouble ahead too—I don’t see how she could have helped it; there was thunder in the air. But she said good-morning to them, cordial and easy, and walked over to the chair Mr. George pushed forward for her. Sitting there in the midst of them, she looked at the Chief, politely inquiring, and I couldn’t help but think she was a winner. Mrs. Price, all weazened up and washed out, was like a cosmetic advertisement beside her. She held herself very straight, her hands folded together in her lap, her head up cool and proud. She had on the white hat with the wreath of grapes and a wash-silk dress of white with lilac stripes that set easy over her fine shoulders, and, believe me, bad or good, she was a thoroughbred. The Chief, turning himself round toward her with a hitch of his chair, began as bland and friendly as if they’d just met at a tea-fest. "We’re very sorry to bother you again, Miss Maitland. But certain facts have come up since you were here that make it necessary for me to ask you a few more questions." She just inclined her head a little and murmured: "It’s no bother at all, Mr. Whitney. I’m only too anxious to help in any way I can." Honest-to-God I think the Chief got a jar; the words came as smooth and as cool as cream just off the ice. For a second he looked at his desk and moved a paper knife very careful, as if it was precious and he was afraid of breaking it. "I’m glad to hear you say that, Miss Maitland. It’s not only what one would expect you to feel, but it makes me sure that you will be willing to explain certain circumstances concerning yourself and your—er—activities—that have—well—er—rather puzzled us." It was my business to watch her and even if it hadn’t been I couldn’t have helped doing it. I saw just two things—the light strike white across the breast of her blouse where a quick breath lifted it, and, for a second, her hands close tight till the knuckles shone. Then they relaxed and she said very softly: "Certainly. I’ll explain anything."