O'Higgins did not confide in me. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. The walls were of immense thickness; the small windows double-grated and unglazed; the fire-place was without a grate; and a barrack-bed, divided into two compartments, occupied one corner. So far the thing was acceptable enough. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room. What was the fellow about? Was he being imposed upon? He watched as the man Valade turned back, spreading his hands in the French way. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite.
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