Yet, just because that woman happens unfortunately to be well-known--her face and name being public property--she is followed, she is spied upon, humiliated, and all, no doubt, on account of some silly mistake, or malicious false information.
Ah, it is shameful, Monsieur! I wonder the police of Paris can stoop to such stupidity, such meanness." "When we have found out that it is a mistake, the police of Paris will apologise to you, Mademoiselle, through me," said the Commissary; "until then, I regret if our duty makes us disagreeable to you." Then, turning to his two gendarmes, he directed them to search the room, beginning with all possible places in which a paper parcel or large envelope might be hidden, within ten metres of the spot where Mademoiselle and Monsieur had stood talking together when the police opened the door.
Maxine did not protest again.

With her head up, and a look as if the three policemen were of no more importance to her than the furniture of the room, she walked to the mantelpiece and stood leaning her elbow upon it.

Weariness, disgusted indifference, were in her attitude; but I guessed that she felt herself actually in need of the physical support.
The two gendarmes moved about in noiseless obedience, their faces expressionless as masks.

They did not glance at Maxine, giving themselves entirely to the task at which they had been set.

But their superior officer did not once take his eyes from the pure profile she turned scornfully towards him.