"I have said so. Mr. Comstalk is very well known to me. He is a
retired army officer, and to my knowledge a man with an income
sufficient to put him far beyond want."
"What is your name?" asked the chief of the girl, scowling. It was
quite evident he couldn't understand her actions any better than I.
"Alice Hawthorne," with an oblique glance at me.
I had been right!
"What is your occupation? I am obliged to ask these questions, Miss."
"I am a miniature painter,"--briefly,
Hamilton came forward. "Alice Hawthorne? Pardon me, but are you the
artist who recently completed the miniatures of the Emperor of Germany,
the Princess of Hesse, and Mrs. Hyphen-Bonds?"
"I am. I believe there is no further reason for detaining me."
"Emperor of Germany?" echoed the now bewildered chief. "Why didn't you
tell all this to Mr. Haggerty?"
"I had my reasons."
Once again the door opened. A burly man in a dark business-suit
entered. His face ruddy and his little grey eyes sparkled with
suppressed ire. He reminded me of Vautrin, the only difference being
that Vautrin was French while this man was distinctly Irish. His
massive shoulders betrayed tremendous strength. He was vastly angry
about something.
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