"It is much safer, you know, to have them out of sight," explained the altogether too artful lady in the uniform. But she kept watching me, with a rather curious look in her eyes. And several times, later on, I caught her studying my face, when she thought I wasn't noticing her. Yet something about her attitude, all the while, tended to make me uncomfortable. It seemed to remind me that I was no longer a free agent. And I was right enough in this, for you can't go out and look up a cop without even a corset-cover on!
I was just deciding that I'd have to engineer that night's adventure without the help of the law when Miss Ledwidge, with a touch of impatience, reminded me that my bedroom was all ready and waiting.
"Just a minute!" I responded, as soft as silk. For as I sat there, pretending to be sniffing the faint odor of Apres l'ondee—at about six dollars an ounce—floating up from that nightie of mine, I decided I wasn't going to lie down in the shafts just because they had the check-rein over my nose.
On the dressing-table stood two tall and antique-looking candlesticks of Sheffield plate. They were very handsome, and also very heavy. Each of them was a good eighteen inches in height.
