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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4745-h.zip b/4745-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6133507 --- /dev/null +++ b/4745-h.zip diff --git a/4745-h/4745-h.htm b/4745-h/4745-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7dce5b --- /dev/null +++ b/4745-h/4745-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12958 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of At the Villa Rose, by A. E. W. Mason +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of At the Villa Rose, by A. E. W. Mason + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: At the Villa Rose + +Author: A. E. W. Mason + +Posting Date: September 11, 2009 [EBook #4745] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 12, 2002 +[Last updated: June 29, 2013] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE VILLA ROSE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE VILLA ROSE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A.E.W. Mason +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">SUMMER LIGHTNING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">A CRY FOR HELP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">PERRICHET'S STORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">AT THE VILLA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">IN THE SALON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">HELENE VAUQUIER'S EVIDENCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">A STARTLING DISCOVERY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">MME. DAUVRAY'S MOTOR-CAR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">NEWS FROM GENEVA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE UNOPENED LETTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE ALUMINIUM FLASK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">IN THE HOUSE AT GENEVA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">MR. RICARDO IS BEWILDERED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">CELIA'S STORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">THE FIRST MOVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">THE AFTERNOON OF TUESDAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">THE SEANCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">HELENE EXPLAINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE GENEVA ROAD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">HANAUD EXPLAINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE VILLA ROSE +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SUMMER LIGHTNING +</H3> + +<P> +It was Mr. Ricardo's habit as soon as the second week of August came +round to travel to Aix-les-Bains, in Savoy, where for five or six weeks +he lived pleasantly. He pretended to take the waters in the morning, he +went for a ride in his motor-car in the afternoon, he dined at the +Cercle in the evening, and spent an hour or two afterwards in the +baccarat-rooms at the Villa des Fleurs. An enviable, smooth life +without a doubt, and it is certain that his acquaintances envied him. +At the same time, however, they laughed at him and, alas with some +justice; for he was an exaggerated person. He was to be construed in +the comparative. Everything in his life was a trifle overdone, from the +fastidious arrangement of his neckties to the feminine nicety of his +little dinner-parties. In age Mr. Ricardo was approaching the fifties; +in condition he was a widower—a state greatly to his liking, for he +avoided at once the irksomeness of marriage and the reproaches justly +levelled at the bachelor; finally, he was rich, having amassed a +fortune in Mincing Lane, which he had invested in profitable securities. +</P> + +<P> +Ten years of ease, however, had not altogether obliterated in him the +business look. Though he lounged from January to December, he lounged +with the air of a financier taking a holiday; and when he visited, as +he frequently did, the studio of a painter, a stranger would have +hesitated to decide whether he had been drawn thither by a love of art +or by the possibility of an investment. His "acquaintances" have been +mentioned, and the word is suitable. For while he mingled in many +circles, he stood aloof from all. He affected the company of artists, +by whom he was regarded as one ambitious to become a connoisseur; and +amongst the younger business men, who had never dealt with him, he +earned the disrespect reserved for the dilettante. If he had a grief, +it was that he had discovered no great man who in return for practical +favours would engrave his memory in brass. He was a Maecenas without a +Horace, an Earl of Southampton without a Shakespeare. In a word, +Aix-les-Bains in the season was the very place for him; and never for a +moment did it occur to him that he was here to be dipped in agitations, +and hurried from excitement to excitement. The beauty of the little +town, the crowd of well-dressed and agreeable people, the rose-coloured +life of the place, all made their appeal to him. But it was the Villa +des Fleurs which brought him to Aix. Not that he played for anything +more than an occasional louis; nor, on the other hand, was he merely a +cold looker-on. He had a bank-note or two in his pocket on most +evenings at the service of the victims of the tables. But the pleasure +to his curious and dilettante mind lay in the spectacle of the battle +which was waged night after night between raw nature and good manners. +It was extraordinary to him how constantly manners prevailed. There +were, however, exceptions. +</P> + +<P> +For instance. On the first evening of this particular visit he found +the rooms hot, and sauntered out into the little semicircular garden at +the back. He sat there for half an hour under a flawless sky of stars +watching the people come and go in the light of the electric lamps, and +appreciating the gowns and jewels of the women with the eye of a +connoisseur; and then into this starlit quiet there came suddenly a +flash of vivid life. A girl in a soft, clinging frock of white satin +darted swiftly from the rooms and flung herself nervously upon a bench. +She could not, to Ricardo's thinking, be more than twenty years of age. +She was certainly quite young. The supple slenderness of her figure +proved it, and he had moreover caught a glimpse, as she rushed out, of +a fresh and very pretty face; but he had lost sight of it now. For the +girl wore a big black satin hat with a broad brim, from which a couple +of white ostrich feathers curved over at the back, and in the shadow of +that hat her face was masked. All that he could see was a pair of long +diamond eardrops, which sparkled and trembled as she moved her +head—and that she did constantly. Now she stared moodily at the +ground; now she flung herself back; then she twisted nervously to the +right, and then a moment afterwards to the left; and then again she +stared in front of her, swinging a satin slipper backwards and forwards +against the pavement with the petulance of a child. All her movements +were spasmodic; she was on the verge of hysteria. Ricardo was expecting +her to burst into tears, when she sprang up and as swiftly as she had +come she hurried back into the rooms. "Summer lightning," thought Mr. +Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +Near to him a woman sneered, and a man said, pityingly: "She was +pretty, that little one. It is regrettable that she has lost." +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes afterwards Ricardo finished his cigar and strolled back +into the rooms, making his way to the big table just on the right hand +of the entrance, where the play as a rule runs high. It was clearly +running high to-night. For so deep a crowd thronged about the table that +Ricardo could only by standing on tiptoe see the faces of the players. +Of the banker he could not catch a glimpse. But though the crowd +remained, its units were constantly changing, and it was not long +before Ricardo found himself standing in the front rank of the +spectators, just behind the players seated in the chairs. The oval +green table was spread out beneath him littered with bank-notes. +Ricardo turned his eyes to the left, and saw seated at the middle of +the table the man who was holding the bank. Ricardo recognised him with +a start of surprise. He was a young Englishman, Harry Wethermill, who, +after a brilliant career at Oxford and at Munich, had so turned his +scientific genius to account that he had made a fortune for himself at +the age of twenty-eight. +</P> + +<P> +He sat at the table with the indifferent look of the habitual player +upon his cleanly chiselled face. But it was plain that his good fortune +stayed at his elbow to-night, for opposite to him the croupier was +arranging with extraordinary deftness piles of bank-notes in the order +of their value. The bank was winning heavily. Even as Ricardo looked +Wethermill turned up "a natural," and the croupier swept in the stakes +from either side. +</P> + +<P> +"Faites vos jeux, messieurs. Le jeu est fait?" the croupier cried, all +in a breath, and repeated the words. Wethermill waited with his hand +upon the wooden frame in which the cards were stacked. He glanced round +the table while the stakes were being laid upon the cloth, and suddenly +his face flashed from languor into interest. Almost opposite to him a +small, white-gloved hand holding a five-louis note was thrust forward +between the shoulders of two men seated at the table. Wethermill leaned +forward and shook his head with a smile. With a gesture he refused the +stake. But he was too late. The fingers of the hand had opened, the +note fluttered down on to the cloth, the money was staked. +</P> + +<P> +At once he leaned back in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Il y a une suite," he said quietly. He relinquished the bank rather +than play against that five-louis note. The stakes were taken up by +their owners. +</P> + +<P> +The croupier began to count Wethermill's winnings, and Ricardo, curious +to know whose small, delicately gloved hand it was which had brought +the game to so abrupt a termination, leaned forward. He recognised the +young girl in the white satin dress and the big black hat whose nerves +had got the better of her a few minutes since in the garden. He saw her +now clearly, and thought her of an entrancing loveliness. She was +moderately tall, fair of skin, with a fresh colouring upon her cheeks +which she owed to nothing but her youth. Her hair was of a light brown +with a sheen upon it, her forehead broad, her eyes dark and wonderfully +clear. But there was something more than her beauty to attract him. He +had a strong belief that somewhere, some while ago, he had already seen +her. And this belief grew and haunted him. He was still vaguely +puzzling his brains to fix the place when the croupier finished his +reckoning. +</P> + +<P> +"There are two thousand louis in the bank," he cried. "Who will take on +the bank for two thousand louis?" +</P> + +<P> +No one, however, was willing. A fresh bank was put up for sale, and +Wethermill, still sitting in the dealer's chair, bought it. He spoke at +once to an attendant, and the man slipped round the table, and, forcing +his way through the crowd, carried a message to the girl in the black +hat. She looked towards Wethermill and smiled; and the smile made her +face a miracle of tenderness. Then she disappeared, and in a few +moments Ricardo saw a way open in the throng behind the banker, and she +appeared again only a yard or two away, just behind Wethermill. He +turned, and taking her hand into his, shook it chidingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't let you play against me, Celia," he said, in English; "my +luck's too good to-night. So you shall be my partner instead. I'll put +in the capital and we'll share the winnings." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's face flushed rosily. Her hand still lay clasped in his. She +made no effort to withdraw it. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't do that," she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" said he. "See!" and loosening her fingers he took from them +the five-louis note and tossed it over to the croupier to be added to +his bank. "Now you can't help yourself. We're partners." +</P> + +<P> +The girl laughed, and the company at the table smiled, half in +sympathy, half with amusement. A chair was brought for her, and she sat +down behind Wethermill, her lips parted, her face joyous with +excitement. But all at once Wethermill's luck deserted him. He renewed +his bank three times, and had lost the greater part of his winnings +when he had dealt the cards through. He took a fourth bank, and rose +from that, too, a loser. +</P> + +<P> +"That's enough, Celia," he said. "Let us go out into the garden; it +will be cooler there." +</P> + +<P> +"I have taken your good luck away," said the girl remorsefully. +Wethermill put his arm through hers. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to take yourself away before you can do that," he +answered, and the couple walked together out of Ricardo's hearing. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo was left to wonder about Celia. She was just one of those +problems which made Aix-les-Bains so unfailingly attractive to him. She +dwelt in some street of Bohemia; so much was clear. The frankness of +her pleasure, of her excitement, and even of her distress proved it. +She passed from one to the other while you could deal a pack of cards. +She was at no pains to wear a mask. Moreover, she was a young girl of +nineteen or twenty, running about those rooms alone, as unembarrassed +as if she had been at home. There was the free use, too, of Christian +names. Certainly she dwelt in Bohemia. But it seemed to Ricardo that +she could pass in any company and yet not be overpassed. She would look +a little more picturesque than most girls of her age, and she was +certainly a good deal more soignee than many, and she had the +Frenchwoman's knack of putting on her clothes. But those would be all +the differences, leaving out the frankness. Ricardo wondered in what +street of Bohemia she dwelt. He wondered still more when he saw her +again half an hour afterwards at the entrance to the Villa des Fleurs. +She came down the long hall with Harry Wethermill at her side. The +couple were walking slowly, and talking as they walked with so complete +an absorption in each other that they were unaware of their +surroundings. At the bottom of the steps a stout woman of fifty-five +over-jewelled, and over-dressed and raddled with paint, watched their +approach with a smile of good-humoured amusement. When they came near +enough to hear she said in French: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Celie, are you ready to go home?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl looked up with a start. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, madame," she said, with a certain submissiveness which +surprised Ricardo. "I hope I have not kept you waiting." +</P> + +<P> +She ran to the cloak-room, and came back again with her cloak. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Harry," she said, dwelling upon his name and looking out +upon him with soft and smiling eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall see you to-morrow evening," he said, holding her hand. Again +she let it stay within his keeping, but she frowned, and a sudden +gravity settled like a cloud upon her face. She turned to the elder +woman with a sort of appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I do not think we shall be here, to-morrow, shall we, madame?" she +said reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not," said madame briskly. "You have not forgotten what we +have planned? No, we shall not be here to-morrow; but the night +after—yes." +</P> + +<P> +Celia turned back again to Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we have plans for to-morrow," she said, with a very wistful note +of regret in her voice; and seeing that madame was already at the door, +she bent forward and said timidly, "But the night after I shall want +you." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall thank you for wanting me," Wethermill rejoined; and the girl +tore her hand away and ran up the steps. +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill returned to the rooms. Mr. Ricardo did not follow him. +He was too busy with the little problem which had been presented to him +that night. What could that girl, he asked himself, have in common with +the raddled woman she addressed so respectfully? Indeed, there had been +a note of more than respect in her voice. There had been something of +affection. Again Mr. Ricardo found himself wondering in what street in +Bohemia Celia dwelt—and as he walked up to the hotel there came yet +other questions to amuse him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," he asked, "could neither Celia nor madame come to the Villa des +Fleurs to-morrow night? What are the plans they have made? And what was +it in those plans which had brought the sudden gravity and reluctance +into Celia's face?" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo had reason to remember those questions during the next few +days, though he only idled with them now. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A CRY FOR HELP +</H3> + +<P> +It was on a Monday evening that Ricardo saw Harry Wethermill and the +girl Celia together. On the Tuesday he saw Wethermill in the rooms +alone and had some talk with him. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill was not playing that night, and about ten o'clock the two +men left the Villa des Fleurs together. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way do you go?" asked Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Up the hill to the Hotel Majestic," said Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"We go together, then. I, too, am staying there," said the young man, +and they climbed the steep streets together. Ricardo was dying to put +some questions about Wethermill's young friend of the night before, but +discretion kept him reluctantly silent. They chatted for a few moments +in the hall upon indifferent topics and so separated for the night. Mr. +Ricardo, however, was to learn something more of Celia the next +morning; for while he was fixing his tie before the mirror Wethermill +burst into his dressing-room. Mr. Ricardo forgot his curiosity in the +surge of his indignation. Such an invasion was an unprecedented outrage +upon the gentle tenor of his life. The business of the morning toilette +was sacred. To interrupt it carried a subtle suggestion of anarchy. +Where was his valet? Where was Charles, who should have guarded the +door like the custodian of a chapel? +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot speak to you for at least another half-hour," said Mr. +Ricardo, sternly. +</P> + +<P> +But Harry Wethermill was out of breath and shaking with agitation. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't wait," he cried, with a passionate appeal. "I have got to see +you. You must help me, Mr. Ricardo—you must, indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo spun round upon his heel. At first he had thought that the help +wanted was the help usually wanted at Aix-les-Bains. A glance at +Wethermills face, however, and the ringing note of anguish in his +voice, told him that the thought was wrong. Mr. Ricardo slipped out of +his affectations as out of a loose coat. "What has happened?" he asked +quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Something terrible." With shaking fingers Wethermill held out a +newspaper. "Read it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +It was a special edition of a local newspaper, Le Journal de Savoie, +and it bore the date of that morning. +</P> + +<P> +"They are crying it in the streets," said Wethermill. "Read!" +</P> + +<P> +A short paragraph was printed in large black letters on the first page, +and leaped to the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Late last night," it ran, "an appalling murder was committed at the +Villa Rose, on the road to Lac Bourget. Mme. Camille Dauvray, an +elderly, rich woman who was well known at Aix, and had occupied the +villa every summer for the last few years, was discovered on the floor +of her salon, fully dressed and brutally strangled, while upstairs, her +maid, Helene Vauquier, was found in bed, chloroformed, with her hands +tied securely behind her back. At the time of going to press she had +not recovered consciousness, but the doctor, Emile Peytin, is in +attendance upon her, and it is hoped that she will be able shortly to +throw some light on this dastardly affair. The police are properly +reticent as to the details of the crime, but the following statement +may be accepted without hesitation: +</P> + +<P> +"The murder was discovered at twelve o'clock at night by the +sergent-de-ville Perrichet, to whose intelligence more than a word of +praise is due, and it is obvious from the absence of all marks upon the +door and windows that the murderer was admitted from within the villa. +Meanwhile Mme. Dauvray's motor-car has disappeared, and with it a young +Englishwoman who came to Aix with her as her companion. The motive of +the crime leaps to the eyes. Mme. Dauvray was famous in Aix for her +jewels, which she wore with too little prudence. The condition of the +house shows that a careful search was made for them, and they have +disappeared. It is anticipated that a description of the young +Englishwoman, with a reward for her apprehension, will be issued +immediately. And it is not too much to hope that the citizens of Aix, +and indeed of France, will be cleared of all participation in so cruel +and sinister a crime." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo read through the paragraph with a growing consternation, and +laid the paper upon his dressing-table. +</P> + +<P> +"It is infamous," cried Wethermill passionately. +</P> + +<P> +"The young Englishwoman is, I suppose, your friend Miss Celia?" said +Ricardo slowly. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill started forward. +</P> + +<P> +"You know her, then?" he cried in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"No; but I saw her with you in the rooms. I heard you call her by that +name." +</P> + +<P> +"You saw us together?" exclaimed Wethermill. "Then you can understand +how infamous the suggestion is." +</P> + +<P> +But Ricardo had seen the girl half an hour before he had seen her with +Harry Wethermill. He could not but vividly remember the picture of her +as she flung herself on to the bench in the garden in a moment of +hysteria, and petulantly kicked a satin slipper backwards and forwards +against the stones. She was young, she was pretty, she had a charm of +freshness, but—but—strive against it as he would, this picture in the +recollection began more and more to wear a sinister aspect. He +remembered some words spoken by a stranger. "She is pretty, that little +one. It is regrettable that she has lost." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo arranged his tie with even a greater deliberation than he +usually employed. +</P> + +<P> +"And Mme. Dauvray?" he asked. "She was the stout woman with whom your +young friend went away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo turned round from the mirror. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want me to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hanaud is at Aix. He is the cleverest of the French detectives. You +know him. He dined with you once." +</P> + +<P> +It was Mr. Ricardo's practice to collect celebrities round his +dinner-table, and at one such gathering Hanaud and Wethermill had been +present together. +</P> + +<P> +"You wish me to approach him?" +</P> + +<P> +"At once." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a delicate position," said Ricardo. "Here is a man in charge of +a case of murder, and we are quietly to go to him—" +</P> + +<P> +To his relief Wethermill interrupted him. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," he cried; "he is not in charge of the case. He is on his +holiday. I read of his arrival two days ago in the newspaper. It was +stated that he came for rest. What I want is that he should take charge +of the case." +</P> + +<P> +The superb confidence of Wethermill shook Mr. Ricardo for a moment, but +his recollections were too clear. +</P> + +<P> +"You are going out of your way to launch the acutest of French +detectives in search of this girl. Are you wise, Wethermill?" +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill sprang up from his chair in desperation. +</P> + +<P> +"You, too, think her guilty! You have seen her. You think her +guilty—like this detestable newspaper, like the police." +</P> + +<P> +"Like the police?" asked Ricardo sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Harry Wethermill sullenly. "As soon as I saw that rag I ran +down to the villa. The police are in possession. They would not let me +into the garden. But I talked with one of them. They, too, think that +she let in the murderers." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo took a turn across the room. Then he came to a stop in front of +Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to me," he said solemnly. "I saw this girl half an hour before +I saw you. She rushed out into the garden. She flung herself on to a +bench. She could not sit still. She was hysterical. You know what that +means. She had been losing. That's point number one." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo ticked it off upon his finger. +</P> + +<P> +"She ran back into the rooms. You asked her to share the winnings of +your bank. She consented eagerly. And you lost. That's point number +two. A little later, as she was going away, you asked her whether she +would be in the rooms the next night—yesterday night—the night when +the murder was committed. Her face clouded over. She hesitated. She +became more than grave. There was a distinct impression as though she +shrank from the contemplation of what it was proposed she should do on +the next night. And then she answered you, 'No, we have other plans.' +That's number three." And Mr. Ricardo ticked off his third point. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," he asked, "do you still ask me to launch Hanaud upon the case?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and at once," cried Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo called for his hat and his stick. +</P> + +<P> +"You know where Hanaud is staying?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Wethermill, and he led Ricardo to an unpretentious +little hotel in the centre of the town. Ricardo sent in his name, and +the two visitors were immediately shown into a small sitting-room, +where M. Hanaud was enjoying his morning chocolate. He was stout and +broad-shouldered, with a full and almost heavy face. In his morning +suit at his breakfast-table he looked like a prosperous comedian. +</P> + +<P> +He came forward with a smile of welcome, extending both his hands to +Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my good friend," he said, "it is pleasant to see you. And Mr. +Wethermill," he exclaimed, holding a hand out to the young inventor. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember me, then?" said Wethermill gladly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is my profession to remember people," said Hanaud, with a laugh. +"You were at that amusing dinner-party of Mr. Ricardo's in Grosvenor +Square." +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," said Wethermill, "I have come to ask your help." +</P> + +<P> +The note of appeal in his voice was loud. M. Hanaud drew up a chair by +the window and motioned to Wethermill to take it. He pointed to +another, with a bow of invitation to Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me hear," he said gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the murder of Mme. Dauvray," said Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud started. +</P> + +<P> +"And in what way, monsieur," he asked, "are you interested in the +murder of Mme. Dauvray?" +</P> + +<P> +"Her companion," said Wethermill, "the young English girl—she is a +great friend of mine." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud's face grew stern. Then came a sparkle of anger in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"And what do you wish me to do, monsieur?" he asked coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"You are upon your holiday, M. Hanaud. I wish you—no, I implore you," +Wethermill cried, his voice ringing with passion, "to take up this +case, to discover the truth, to find out what has become of Celia." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud leaned back in his chair with his hands upon the arms. He did +not take his eyes from Harry Wethermill, but the anger died out of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," he said, "I do not know what your procedure is in England. +But in France a detective does not take up a case or leave it alone +according to his pleasure. We are only servants. This affair is in the +hands of M. Fleuriot, the Juge d'instruction of Aix." +</P> + +<P> +"But if you offered him your help it would be welcomed," cried +Wethermill. "And to me that would mean so much. There would be no +bungling. There would be no waste of time. Of that one would be sure." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud shook his head gently. His eyes were softened now by a look of +pity. Suddenly he stretched out a forefinger. +</P> + +<P> +"You have, perhaps, a photograph of the young lady in that card-case in +your breast-pocket." +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill flushed red, and, drawing out the card-case, handed the +portrait to Hanaud. Hanaud looked at it carefully for a few moments. +</P> + +<P> +"It was taken lately, here?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; for me," replied Wethermill quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"And it is a good likeness?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very." +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you known this Mlle. Celie?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill looked at Hanaud with a certain defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"For a fortnight." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud raised his eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"You met her here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"In the rooms, I suppose? Not at the house of one of your friends?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is so," said Wethermill quietly. "A friend of mine who had met +her in Paris introduced me to her at my request." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud handed back the portrait and drew forward his chair nearer to +Wethermill. His face had grown friendly. He spoke with a tone of +respect. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur, I know something of you. Our friend, Mr. Ricardo, told me +your history; I asked him for it when I saw you at his dinner. You are +of those about whom one does ask questions, and I know that you are not +a romantic boy, but who shall say that he is safe from the appeal of +beauty? I have seen women, monsieur, for whose purity of soul I would +myself have stood security, condemned for complicity in brutal crimes +on evidence that could not be gainsaid; and I have known them turn +foul-mouthed, and hideous to look upon, the moment after their just +sentence has been pronounced." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt, monsieur," said Wethermill, with perfect quietude. "But +Celia Harland is not one of those women." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not now say that she is," said Hanaud. "But the Juge +d'Instruction here has already sent to me to ask for my assistance, and +I refused. I replied that I was just a good bourgeois enjoying his +holiday. Still it is difficult quite to forget one's profession. It was +the Commissaire of Police who came to me, and naturally I talked with +him for a little while. The case is dark, monsieur, I warn you." +</P> + +<P> +"How dark?" asked Harry Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"I will tell you," said Hanaud, drawing his chair still closer to the +young man. "Understand this in the first place. There was an accomplice +within the villa. Some one let the murderers in. There is no sign of an +entrance being forced; no lock was picked, there is no mark of a thumb +on any panel, no sign of a bolt being forced. There was an accomplice +within the house. We start from that." +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill nodded his head sullenly. Ricardo drew his chair up towards +the others. But Hanaud was not at that moment interested in Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, let us see who there are in Mme. Dauvray's household. The +list is not a long one. It was Mme. Dauvray's habit to take her +luncheon and her dinner at the restaurants, and her maid was all that +she required to get ready her 'petit dejeuner' in the morning and her +'sirop' at night. Let us take the members of the household one by one. +There is first the chauffeur, Henri Servettaz. He was not at the villa +last night. He came back to it early this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" said Ricardo, in a significant exclamation. Wethermill did not +stir. He sat still as a stone, with a face deadly white and eyes +burning upon Hanaud's face. +</P> + +<P> +"But wait," said Hanaud, holding up a warning hand to Ricardo. +"Servettaz was in Chambery, where his parents live. He travelled to +Chambery by the two o'clock train yesterday. He was with them in the +afternoon. He went with them to a cafe in the evening. Moreover, early +this morning the maid, Helene Vauquier, was able to speak a few words +in answer to a question. She said Servettaz was in Chambery. She gave +his address. A telephone message was sent to the police in that town, +and Servettaz was found in bed. I do not say that it is impossible that +Servettaz was concerned in the crime. That we shall see. But it is +quite clear, I think, that it was not he who opened the house to the +murderers, for he was at Chambery in the evening, and the murder was +already discovered here by midnight. Moreover—it is a small point—he +lives, not in the house, but over the garage in a corner of the garden. +Then besides the chauffeur there was a charwoman, a woman of Aix, who +came each morning at seven and left in the evening at seven or eight. +Sometimes she would stay later if the maid was alone in the house, for +the maid is nervous. But she left last night before nine—there is +evidence of that—and the murder did not take place until afterwards. +That is also a fact, not a conjecture. We can leave the charwoman, who +for the rest has the best of characters, out of our calculations. There +remain then, the maid, Helene Vauquier, and"—he shrugged his +shoulders—"Mlle. Celie." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud reached out for the matches and lit a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us take first the maid, Helene Vauquier. Forty years old, a +Normandy peasant woman—they are not bad people, the Normandy peasants, +monsieur—avaricious, no doubt, but on the whole honest and most +respectable. We know something of Helene Vauquier, monsieur. See!" and +he took up a sheet of paper from the table. The paper was folded +lengthwise, written upon only on the inside. "I have some details here. +Our police system is, I think, a little more complete than yours in +England. Helene Vauquier has served Mme. Dauvray for seven years. She +has been the confidential friend rather than the maid. And mark this, +M. Wethermill! During those seven years how many opportunities has she +had of conniving at last night's crime? She was found chloroformed and +bound. There is no doubt that she was chloroformed. Upon that point Dr. +Peytin is quite, quite certain. He saw her before she recovered +consciousness. She was violently sick on awakening. She sank again into +unconsciousness. She is only now in a natural sleep. Besides those +people, there is Mlle. Celie. Of her, monsieur, nothing is known. You +yourself know nothing of her. She comes suddenly to Aix as the +companion of Mme. Dauvray—a young and pretty English girl. How did she +become the companion of Mme. Dauvray?" +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill stirred uneasily in his seat. His face flushed. To Mr. +Ricardo that had been from the beginning the most interesting problem +of the case. Was he to have the answer now? +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know," answered Wethermill, with some hesitation, and then it +seemed that he was at once ashamed of his hesitation. His accent +gathered strength, and in a low but ringing voice, he added: "But I say +this. You have told me, M. Hanaud, of women who looked innocent and +were guilty. But you know also of women and girls who can live +untainted and unspoilt amidst surroundings which are suspicious." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud listened, but he neither agreed nor denied. He took up a second +slip of paper. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall tell you something now of Mme. Dauvray," he said. "We will not +take up her early history. It might not be edifying and, poor woman, +she is dead. Let us not go back beyond her marriage seventeen years ago +to a wealthy manufacturer of Nancy, whom she had met in Paris. Seven +years ago M. Dauvray died, leaving his widow a very rich woman. She had +a passion for jewellery, which she was now able to gratify. She +collected jewels. A famous necklace, a well-known stone—she was not, +as you say, happy till she got it. She had a fortune in precious +stones—oh, but a large fortune! By the ostentation of her jewels she +paraded her wealth here, at Monte Carlo, in Paris. Besides that, she +was kind-hearted and most impressionable. Finally, she was, like so +many of her class, superstitious to the degree of folly." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mr. Ricardo started in his chair. Superstitious! The word was +a sudden light upon his darkness. Now he knew what had perplexed him +during the last two days. Clearly—too clearly—he remembered where he +had seen Celia Harland, and when. A picture rose before his eyes, and +it seemed to strengthen like a film in a developing-dish as Hanaud +continued: +</P> + +<P> +"Very well! take Mme. Dauvray as we find her—rich, ostentatious, +easily taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly superstitious—and +you have in her a living provocation to every rogue. By a hundred +instances she proclaimed herself a dupe. She threw down a challenge to +every criminal to come and rob her. For seven years Helene Vauquier +stands at her elbow and protects her from serious trouble. Suddenly +there is added to her—your young friend, and she is robbed and +murdered. And, follow this, M. Wethermill, our thieves are, I think, +more brutal to their victims than is the case with you." +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill shut his eyes in a spasm of pain and the pallor of his face +increased. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose that Celia were one of the victims?" he cried in a stifled +voice. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud glanced at him with a look of commiseration. +</P> + +<P> +"That perhaps we shall see," he said. "But what I meant was this. A +stranger like Mlle. Celie might be the accomplice in such a crime as +the crime of the Villa Rose, meaning only robbery. A stranger might +only have discovered too late that murder would be added to the theft." +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, in strong, clear colours, Ricardo's picture stood out before +his eyes. He was startled by hearing Wethermill say, in a firm voice: +</P> + +<P> +"My friend Ricardo has something to add to what you have said." +</P> + +<P> +"I!" exclaimed Ricardo. How in the world could Wethermill know of that +clear picture in his mind? +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You saw Celia Harland on the evening before the murder." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo stared at his friend. It seemed to him that Harry Wethermill +had gone out of his mind. Here he was corroborating the suspicions of +the police by facts—damning and incontrovertible facts. +</P> + +<P> +"On the night before the murder," continued Wethermill quietly, "Celia +Harland lost money at the baccarat-table. Ricardo saw her in the garden +behind the rooms, and she was hysterical. Later on that same night he +saw her again with me, and he heard what she said. I asked her to come +to the rooms on the next evening—yesterday, the night of the +crime—and her face changed, and she said, 'No, we have other plans for +to-morrow. But the night after I shall want you.'" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud sprang up from his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"And YOU tell me these two things!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Wethermill. "You were kind enough to say to me I was not a +romantic boy. I am not. I can face facts." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud stared at his companion for a few moments. Then, with a +remarkable air of consideration, he bowed. +</P> + +<P> +"You have won, monsieur," he said. "I will take up this case. But," and +his face grew stern and he brought his fist down upon the table with a +bang, "I shall follow it to the end now, be the consequences bitter as +death to you." +</P> + +<P> +"That is what I wish, monsieur," said Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud locked up the slips of paper in his lettercase. Then he went out +of the room and returned in a few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"We will begin at the beginning," he said briskly. "I have telephoned +to the Depot. Perrichet, the sergent-de-ville who discovered the crime, +will be here at once. We will walk down to the villa with him, and on +the way he shall tell us exactly what he discovered and how he +discovered it. At the villa we shall find Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge +d'instruction, who has already begun his examination, and the +Commissaire of Police. In company with them we will inspect the villa. +Except for the removal of Mme. Dauvray's body from the salon to her +bedroom and the opening of the windows, the house remains exactly as it +was." +</P> + +<P> +"We may come with you?" cried Harry Wethermill eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, on one condition—that you ask no questions, and answer none +unless I put them to you. Listen, watch, examine—but no interruptions!" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud's manner had altogether changed. It was now authoritative and +alert. He turned to Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"You will swear to what you saw in the garden and to the words you +heard?" he asked. "They are important." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +But he kept silence about that clear picture in his mind which to him +seemed no less important, no less suggestive. +</P> + +<P> +The Assembly Hall at Leamington, a crowded audience chiefly of ladies, +a platform at one end on which a black cabinet stood. A man, erect and +with something of the soldier in his bearing, led forward a girl, +pretty and fair-haired, who wore a black velvet dress with a long, +sweeping train. She moved like one in a dream. Some half-dozen people +from the audience climbed on to the platform, tied the girl's hands +with tape behind her back, and sealed the tape. She was led to the +cabinet, and in full view of the audience fastened to a bench. Then the +door of the cabinet was closed, the people upon the platform descended +into the body of the hall, and the lights were turned very low. The +audience sat in suspense, and then abruptly in the silence and the +darkness there came the rattle of a tambourine from the empty platform. +Rappings and knockings seemed to flicker round the panels of the hall, +and in the place where the door of the cabinet should be there appeared +a splash of misty whiteness. The whiteness shaped itself dimly into the +figure of a woman, a face dark and Eastern became visible, and a deep +voice spoke in a chant of the Nile and Antony. Then the vision faded, +the tambourines and cymbals rattled again. The lights were turned up, +the door of the cabinet thrown open, and the girl in the black velvet +dress was seen fastened upon the bench within. +</P> + +<P> +It was a spiritualistic performance at which Julius Ricardo had been +present two years ago. The young, fair-haired girl in black velvet, the +medium, was Celia Harland. +</P> + +<P> +That was the picture which was in Ricardo's mind, and Hanaud's +description of Mme. Dauvray made a terrible commentary upon it. "Easily +taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly superstitious, a living +provocation to every rogue." Those were the words, and here was a +beautiful girl of twenty versed in those very tricks of imposture which +would make Mme. Dauvray her natural prey! +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo looked at Wethermill, doubtful whether he should tell what he +knew of Celia Harland or not. But before he had decided a knock came +upon the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is Perrichet," said Hanaud, taking up his hat. "We will go down +to the Villa Rose." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PERRICHET'S STORY +</H3> + +<P> +Perrichet was a young, thick-set man, with a red, fair face, and a +moustache and hair so pale in colour that they were almost silver. He +came into the room with an air of importance. +</P> + +<P> +"Aha!" said Hanaud, with a malicious smile. "You went to bed late last +night, my friend. Yet you were up early enough to read the newspaper. +Well, I am to have the honour of being associated with you in this +case." +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet twirled his cap awkwardly and blushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur is pleased to laugh at me," he said. "But it was not I who +called myself intelligent. Though indeed I would like to be so, for the +good God knows I do not look it." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud clapped him on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Then congratulate yourself! It is a great advantage to be intelligent +and not to look it. We shall get on famously. Come!" +</P> + +<P> +The four men descended the stairs, and as they walked towards the villa +Perrichet related, concisely and clearly, his experience of the night. +</P> + +<P> +"I passed the gate of the villa about half-past nine," he said. "The +gate was closed. Above the wall and bushes of the garden I saw a bright +light in the room upon the first floor which faces the road at the +south-western comer of the villa. The lower windows I could not see. +More than an hour afterwards I came back, and as I passed the villa +again I noticed that there was now no light in the room upon the first +floor, but that the gate was open. I thereupon went into the garden, +and, pulling the gate, let it swing to and latch. But it occurred to me +as I did so that there might be visitors at the villa who had not yet +left, and for whom the gate had been set open. I accordingly followed +the drive which winds round to the front door. The front door is not on +the side of the villa which faces the road, but at the back. When I +came to the open space where the carriages turn, I saw that the house +was in complete darkness. There were wooden latticed doors to the long +windows on the ground floor, and these were closed. I tried one to make +certain, and found the fastenings secure. The other windows upon that +floor were shuttered. No light gleamed anywhere. I then left the +garden, closing the gate behind me. I heard a clock strike the hour a +few minutes afterwards, so that I can be sure of the time. It was now +eleven o'clock. I came round a third time an hour after, and to my +astonishment I found the gate once more open. I had left it closed and +the house shut up and dark. Now it stood open! I looked up to the +windows and I saw that in a room on the second floor, close beneath the +roof, a light was burning brightly. That room had been dark an hour +before. I stood and watched the light for a few minutes, thinking that +I should see it suddenly go out. But it did not: it burned quite +steadily. This light and the gate opened and reopened aroused my +suspicions. I went again into the garden, but this time with greater +caution. It was a clear night, and, although there was no moon, I could +see without the aid of my lantern. I stole quietly along the drive. +When I came round to the front door, I noticed immediately that the +shutters of one of the ground-floor windows were swung back, and that +the inside glass window which descended to the ground stood open. The +sight gave me a shock. Within the house those shutters had been opened. +I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins and a chill crept along my +spine. I thought of that solitary light burning steadily under the +roof. I was convinced that something terrible had happened." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes. Quite so," said Hanaud. "Go on, my friend." +</P> + +<P> +"The interior of the room gaped black," Perrichet resumed. "I crept up +to the window at the side of the wall and flashed my lantern into the +room. The window, however, was in a recess which opened into the room +through an arch, and at each side of the arch curtains were draped. The +curtains were not closed, but between them I could see nothing but a +strip of the room. I stepped carefully in, taking heed not to walk on +the patch of grass before the window. The light of my lantern showed me +a chair overturned upon the floor, and to my right, below the middle +one of the three windows in the right-hand side wall, a woman lying +huddled upon the floor. It was Mme. Dauvray. She was dressed. There was +a little mud upon her shoes, as though she had walked after the rain +had ceased. Monsieur will remember that two heavy showers fell last +evening between six and eight." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Hanaud, nodding his approval. +</P> + +<P> +"She was quite dead. Her face was terribly swollen and black, and a +piece of thin strong cord was knotted so tightly about her neck and had +sunk so deeply into her flesh that at first I did not see it. For Mme. +Dauvray was stout." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what did you do?" asked Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"I went to the telephone which was in the hall and rang up the police. +Then I crept upstairs very cautiously, trying the doors. I came upon no +one until I reached the room under the roof where the light was +burning; there I found Helene Vauquier, the maid, snoring in bed in a +terrible fashion." +</P> + +<P> +The four men turned a bend in the road. A few paces away a knot of +people stood before a gate which a sergent-de-ville guarded. +</P> + +<P> +"But here we are at the villa," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +They all looked up and, from a window at the corner upon the first +floor a man looked out and drew in his head. +</P> + +<P> +"That is M. Besnard, the Commissaire of our police in Aix," said +Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"And the window from which he looked," said Hanaud, "must be the window +of that room in which you saw the bright light at half-past nine on +your first round?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, m'sieur," said Perrichet; "that is the window." +</P> + +<P> +They stopped at the gate. Perrichet spoke to the sergent-de-ville, who +at once held the gate open. The party passed into the garden of the +villa. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE VILLA +</H3> + +<P> +The drive curved between trees and high bushes towards the back of the +house, and as the party advanced along it a small, trim, soldier-like +man, with a pointed beard, came to meet them. It was the man who had +looked out from the window, Louis Besnard, the Commissaire of Police. +</P> + +<P> +"You are coming, then, to help us, M. Hanaud!" he cried, extending his +hands. "You will find no jealousy here; no spirit amongst us of +anything but good will; no desire except one to carry out your +suggestions. All we wish is that the murderers should be discovered. +Mon Dieu, what a crime! And so young a girl to be involved in it! But +what will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"So you have already made your mind up on that point!" said Hanaud +sharply. +</P> + +<P> +The Commissaire shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Examine the villa and then judge for yourself whether any other +explanation is conceivable," he said; and turning, he waved his hand +towards the house. Then he cried, "Ah!" and drew himself into an +attitude of attention. A tall, thin man of about forty-five years, +dressed in a frock coat and a high silk hat, had just come round an +angle of the drive and was moving slowly towards them. He wore the +soft, curling brown beard of one who has never used a razor on his +chin, and had a narrow face with eyes of a very light grey, and a round +bulging forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the Juge d'Instruction?" asked Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; M. Fleuriot," replied Louis Besnard in a whisper. +</P> + +<P> +M. Fleuriot was occupied with his own thoughts, and it was not until +Besnard stepped forward noisily on the gravel that he became aware of +the group in the garden. +</P> + +<P> +"This is M. Hanaud, of the Surete in Paris," said Louis Besnard. +</P> + +<P> +M. Fleuriot bowed with cordiality. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very welcome, M. Hanaud. You will find that nothing at the +villa has been disturbed. The moment the message arrived over the +telephone that you were willing to assist us I gave instructions that +all should be left as we found it. I trust that you, with your +experience, will see a way where our eyes find none." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud bowed in reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall do my best, M. Fleuriot. I can say no more," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"But who are these gentlemen?" asked Fleuriot, waking, it seemed, now +for the first time to the presence of Harry Wethermill and Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"They are both friends of mine," replied Hanaud. "If you do not object +I think their assistance may be useful. Mr. Wethermill, for instance, +was acquainted with Celia Harland." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" cried the judge; and his face took on suddenly a keen and eager +look. "You can tell me about her perhaps?" +</P> + +<P> +"All that I know I will tell readily," said Harry Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Into the light eyes of M. Fleuriot there came a cold, bright gleam. He +took a step forward. His face seemed to narrow to a greater sharpness. +In a moment, to Mr. Ricardo's thought, he ceased to be the judge; he +dropped from his high office; he dwindled into a fanatic. +</P> + +<P> +"She is a Jewess, this Celia Harland?" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"No, M. Fleuriot, she is not," replied Wethermill. "I do not speak in +disparagement of that race, for I count many friends amongst its +members. But Celia Harland is not one of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" said Fleuriot; and there was something of disappointment, +something, too, of incredulity, in his voice. "Well, you will come and +report to me when you have made your investigation." And he passed on +without another question or remark. +</P> + +<P> +The group of men watched him go, and it was not until he was out of +earshot that Besnard turned with a deprecating gesture to Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, he is a good judge, M. Hanaud—quick, discriminating, +sympathetic; but he has that bee in his bonnet, like so many others. +Everywhere he must see l'affaire Dreyfus. He cannot get it out of his +head. No matter how insignificant a woman is murdered, she must have +letters in her possession which would convict Dreyfus. But you know! +There are thousands like that—good, kindly, just people in the +ordinary ways of life, but behind every crime they see the Jew." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I know; and in a Juge d'Instruction it is very embarrassing. Let us +walk on." +</P> + +<P> +Half-way between the gate and the villa a second carriage-road struck +off to the left, and at the entrance to it stood a young, stout man in +black leggings. +</P> + +<P> +"The chauffeur?" asked Hanaud. "I will speak to him." +</P> + +<P> +The Commissaire called the chauffeur forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Servettaz," he said, "you will answer any questions which monsieur may +put to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, M. le Commissaire," said the chauffeur. His manner was +serious, but he answered readily. There was no sign of fear upon his +face. +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you been with Mme. Dauvray?" Hanaud asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Four months, monsieur. I drove her to Aix from Paris." +</P> + +<P> +"And since your parents live at Chambery you wished to seize the +opportunity of spending a day with them while you were so near?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"When did you ask for permission?" +</P> + +<P> +"On Saturday, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ask particularly that you should have yesterday, the Tuesday?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur; I asked only for a day whenever it should be convenient +to madame." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," said Hanaud. "Now, when did Mme. Dauvray tell you that you +might have Tuesday?" +</P> + +<P> +Servettaz hesitated. His face became troubled. When he spoke, he spoke +reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"It was not Mme. Dauvray, monsieur, who told me that I might go on +Tuesday," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Not Mme. Dauvray! Who was it, then?" Hanaud asked sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Servettaz glanced from one to another of the grave faces which +confronted him. +</P> + +<P> +"It was Mlle. Celie," he said, "who told me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" said Hanaud, slowly. "It was Mlle. Celie. When did she tell you?" +</P> + +<P> +"On Monday morning, monsieur. I was cleaning the car. She came to the +garage with some flowers in her hand which she had been cutting in the +garden, and she said: 'I was right, Alphonse. Madame has a kind heart. +You can go to-morrow by the train which leaves Aix at 1.52 and arrives +at Chambery at nine minutes after two.'" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud started. +</P> + +<P> +"'I was right, Alphonse.' Were those her words? And 'Madame has a kind +heart.' Come, come, what is all this?" He lifted a warning finger and +said gravely, "Be very careful, Servettaz." +</P> + +<P> +"Those were her words, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"'I was right, Alphonse. Madame has a kind heart'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"Then Mlle. Celie had spoken to you before about this visit of yours to +Chambery," said Hanaud, with his eyes fixed steadily upon the +chauffeur's face. The distress upon Servettaz's face increased. +Suddenly Hanaud's voice rang sharply. "You hesitate. Begin at the +beginning. Speak the truth, Servettaz!" +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur, I am speaking the truth," said the chauffeur. "It is true I +hesitate ... I have heard this morning what people are saying ... I do +not know what to think. Mlle. Celie was always kind and thoughtful for +me ... But it is true"—and with a kind of desperation he went +on—"yes, it is true that it was Mlle. Celie who first suggested to me +that I should ask for a day to go to Chambery." +</P> + +<P> +"When did she suggest it?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the Saturday." +</P> + +<P> +To Mr. Ricardo the words were startling. He glanced with pity towards +Wethermill. Wethermill, however, had made up his mind for good and all. +He stood with a dogged look upon his face, his chin thrust forward, his +eyes upon the chauffeur. Besnard, the Commissaire, had made up his +mind, too. He merely shrugged his shoulders. Hanaud stepped forward and +laid his hand gently on the chauffeur's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, my friend," he said, "let us hear exactly how this happened!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie," said Servettaz, with genuine compunction in his voice, +"came to the garage on Saturday morning and ordered the car for the +afternoon. She stayed and talked to me for a little while, as she often +did. She said that she had been told that my parents lived at Chambery, +and since I was so near I ought to ask for a holiday. For it would not +be kind if I did not go and see them." +</P> + +<P> +"That was all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well." And the detective resumed at once his brisk voice and +alert manner. He seemed to dismiss Servettaz's admission from his mind. +Ricardo had the impression of a man tying up an important document +which for the moment he has done with, and putting it away ticketed in +some pigeon-hole in his desk. "Let us see the garage!" +</P> + +<P> +They followed the road between the bushes until a turn showed them the +garage with its doors open. +</P> + +<P> +"The doors were found unlocked?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just as you see them." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded. He spoke again to Servettaz. "What did you do with the +key on Tuesday?" +</P> + +<P> +"I gave it to Helene Vauquier, monsieur, after I had locked up the +garage. And she hung it on a nail in the kitchen." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said Hanaud. "So any one could easily, have found it last +night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur—if one knew where to look for it." +</P> + +<P> +At the back of the garage a row of petrol-tins stood against the brick +wall. +</P> + +<P> +"Was any petrol taken?" asked Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur; there was very little petrol in the car when I went +away. More was taken, but it was taken from the middle tins—these." +And he touched the tins. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said Hanaud, and he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. The +Commissaire moved with impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"From the middle or from the end—what does it matter?" he exclaimed. +"The petrol was taken." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud, however, did not dismiss the point so lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"But it is very possible that it does matter," he said gently. "For +example, if Servettaz had had no reason to examine his tins it might +have been some while before he found out that the petrol had been +taken." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, yes," said Servettaz. "I might even have forgotten that I had +not used it myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," said Hanaud, and he turned to Besnard. +"I think that may be important. I do not know," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"But since the car is gone," cried Besnard, "how could the chauffeur +not look immediately at his tins?" +</P> + +<P> +The question had occurred to Ricardo, and he wondered in what way +Hanaud meant to answer it. Hanaud, however, did not mean to answer it. +He took little notice of it at all. He put it aside with a superb +indifference to the opinion which his companions might form of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes," he said, carelessly. "Since the car is gone, as you say, +that is so." And he turned again to Servettaz. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a powerful car?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Sixty horse-power," said Servettaz. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned to the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +"You have the number and description, I suppose? It will be as well to +advertise for it. It may have been seen; it must be somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +The Commissaire replied that the description had already been printed, +and Hanaud, with a nod of approval, examined the ground. In front of +the garage there was a small stone courtyard, but on its surface there +was no trace of a footstep. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet the gravel was wet," he said, shaking his head. "The man who +fetched that car fetched it carefully." +</P> + +<P> +He turned and walked back with his eyes upon the ground. Then he ran to +the grass border between the gravel and the bushes. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" he said to Wethermill; "a foot has pressed the blades of grass +down here, but very lightly—yes, and there again. Some one ran along +the border here on his toes. Yes, he was very careful." +</P> + +<P> +They turned again into the main drive, and, following it for a few +yards, came suddenly upon a space in front of the villa. It was a small +toy pleasure-house, looking on to a green lawn gay with flower-beds. It +was built of yellow stone, and was almost square in shape. A couple of +ornate pillars flanked the door, and a gable roof, topped by a gilt +vane, surmounted it. To Ricardo it seemed impossible that so sordid and +sinister a tragedy had taken place within its walls during the last +twelve hours. It glistened so gaudily in the blaze of sunlight. Here +and there the green outer shutters were closed; here and there the +windows stood open to let in the air and light. Upon each side of the +door there was a window lighting the hall, which was large; beyond +those windows again, on each side, there were glass doors opening to +the ground and protected by the ordinary green latticed shutters of +wood, which now stood hooked back against the wall. These glass doors +opened into rooms oblong in shape, which ran through towards the back +of the house, and were lighted in addition by side windows. The room +upon the extreme left, as the party faced the villa, was the +dining-room, with the kitchen at the back; the room on the right was +the salon in which the murder had been committed. In front of the glass +door to this room a strip of what had once been grass stretched to the +gravel drive. But the grass had been worn away by constant use, and the +black mould showed through. This strip was about three yards wide, and +as they approached they saw, even at a distance, that since the rain of +last night it had been trampled down. +</P> + +<P> +"We will go round the house first," said Hanaud, and he turned along +the side of the villa and walked in the direction of the road. There +were four windows just above his head, of which three lighted the +salon, and the fourth a small writing-room behind it. Under these +windows there was no disturbance of the ground, and a careful +investigation showed conclusively that the only entrance used had been +the glass doors of the salon facing the drive. To that spot, then, they +returned. There were three sets of footmarks upon the soil. One set ran +in a distinct curve from the drive to the side of the door, and did not +cross the others. +</P> + +<P> +"Those," said Hanaud, "are the footsteps of my intelligent friend, +Perrichet, who was careful not to disturb the ground." +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet beamed all over his rosy face, and Besnard nodded at him with +condescending approval. +</P> + +<P> +"But I wish, M. le Commissaire"—and Hanaud pointed to a blur of +marks—"that your other officers had been as intelligent. Look! These +run from the glass door to the drive, and, for all the use they are to +us, a harrow might have been dragged across them." +</P> + +<P> +Besnard drew himself up. +</P> + +<P> +"Not one of my officers has entered the room by way of this door. The +strictest orders were given and obeyed. The ground, as you see it, is +the ground as it was at twelve o'clock last night." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud's face grew thoughtful. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" he said, and he stooped to examine the second set of +marks. They were at the righthand side of the door. "A woman and a +man," he said. "But they are mere hints rather than prints. One might +almost think—" He rose up without finishing his sentence, and he +turned to the third set and a look of satisfaction gleamed upon his +face. "Ah! here is something more interesting," he said. +</P> + +<P> +There were just three impressions; and, whereas the blurred marks were +at the side, these three pointed straight from the middle of the glass +doors to the drive. They were quite clearly defined, and all three were +the impressions made by a woman's small, arched, high-heeled shoe. The +position of the marks was at first sight a little peculiar. There was +one a good yard from the window, the impression of the right foot, and +the pressure of the sole of the shoe was more marked than that of the +heel. The second, the impression of the left foot, was not quite so far +from the first as the first was from the window, and here again the +heel was the more lightly defined. But there was this difference—the +mark of the toe, which was pointed in the first instance, was, in this, +broader and a trifle blurred. Close beside it the right foot was again +visible; only now the narrow heel was more clearly defined than the +ball of the foot. It had, indeed, sunk half an inch into the soft +ground. There were no further imprints. Indeed, these two were not +merely close together, they were close to the gravel of the drive and +on the very border of the grass. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked at the marks thoughtfully. Then he turned to the +Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +"Are there any shoes in the house which fit those marks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. We have tried the shoes of all the women—Celie Harland, the +maid, and even Mme. Dauvray. The only ones which fit at all are those +taken from Celie Harland's bedroom." +</P> + +<P> +He called to an officer standing in the drive, and a pair of grey suede +shoes were brought to him from the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"See, M. Hanaud, it is a pretty little foot which made those clear +impressions," he said, with a smile; "a foot arched and slender. Mme. +Dauvray's foot is short and square, the maid's broad and flat. Neither +Mme. Dauvray nor Helene Vauquier could have worn these shoes. They were +lying, one here, one there, upon the floor of Celie Harland's room, as +though she had kicked them off in a hurry. They are almost new, you +see. They have been worn once, perhaps, no more, and they fit with +absolute precision into those footmarks, except just at the toe of that +second one." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud took the shoes and, kneeling down, placed them one after the +other over the impressions. To Ricardo it was extraordinary how exactly +they covered up the marks and filled the indentations. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say," said the Commissaire, "that Celie Harland went away +wearing a new pair of shoes made on the very same last as those." +</P> + +<P> +As those she had left carelessly lying on the floor of her room for the +first person to notice, thought Ricardo! It seemed as if the girl had +gone out of her way to make the weight of evidence against her as heavy +as possible. Yet, after all, it was just through inattention to the +small details, so insignificant at the red moment of crime, so terribly +instructive the next day, that guilt was generally brought home. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud rose to his feet and handed the shoes back to the officer. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said, "so it seems. The shoemaker can help us here. I see the +shoes were made in Aix." +</P> + +<P> +Besnard looked at the name stamped in gold letters upon the lining of +the shoes. +</P> + +<P> +"I will have inquiries made," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded, took a measure from his pocket and measured the ground +between the window and the first footstep, and between the first +footstep and the other two. +</P> + +<P> +"How tall is Mlle. Celie?" he asked, and he addressed the question to +Wethermill. It struck Ricardo as one of the strangest details in all +this strange affair that the detective should ask with confidence for +information which might help to bring Celia Harland to the guillotine +from the man who had staked his happiness upon her innocence. +</P> + +<P> +"About five feet seven," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud replaced his measure in his pocket. He turned with a grave face +to Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"I warned you fairly, didn't I?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill's white face twitched. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said. "I am not afraid." But there was more of anxiety in his +voice than there had been before. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud pointed solemnly to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Read the story those footprints write in the mould there. A young and +active girl of about Mlle. Celie's height, and wearing a new pair of +Mlle. Celie's shoes, springs from that room where the murder was +committed, where the body of the murdered woman lies. She is running. +She is wearing a long gown. At the second step the hem of the gown +catches beneath the point of her shoe. She stumbles. To save herself +from falling she brings up the other foot sharply and stamps the heel +down into the ground. She recovers her balance. She steps on to the +drive. It is true the gravel here is hard and takes no mark, but you +will see that some of the mould which has clung to her shoes has +dropped off. She mounts into the motor-car with the man and the other +woman and drives off—some time between eleven and twelve." +</P> + +<P> +"Between eleven and twelve? Is that sure?" asked Besnard. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," replied Hanaud. "The gate is open at eleven, and Perrichet +closes it. It is open again at twelve. Therefore the murderers had not +gone before eleven. No; the gate was open for them to go, but they had +not gone. Else why should the gate again be open at midnight?" +</P> + +<P> +Besnard nodded in assent, and suddenly Perrichet started forward, with +his eyes full of horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, when I first closed the gate," he cried, "and came into the +garden and up to the house they were here—in that room? Oh, my God!" +He stared at the window, with his mouth open. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid, my friend, that is so," said Hanaud gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"But I knocked upon the wooden door, I tried the bolts; and they were +within—in the darkness within, holding their breath not three yards +from me." +</P> + +<P> +He stood transfixed. +</P> + +<P> +"That we shall see," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +He stepped in Perrichet's footsteps to the sill of the room. He +examined the green wooden doors which opened outwards, and the glass +doors which opened inwards, taking a magnifying-glass from his pocket. +He called Besnard to his side. +</P> + +<P> +"See!" he said, pointing to the woodwork. +</P> + +<P> +"Finger-marks!" asked Besnard eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; of hands in gloves," returned Hanaud. "We shall learn nothing +from these marks except that the assassins knew their trade." +</P> + +<P> +Then he stooped down to the sill, where some traces of steps were +visible. He rose with a gesture of resignation. +</P> + +<P> +"Rubber shoes," he said, and so stepped into the room, followed by +Wethermill and the others. They found themselves in a small recess +which was panelled with wood painted white, and here and there +delicately carved into festoons of flowers. The recess ended in an +arch, supported by two slender pillars, and on the inner side of the +arch thick curtains of pink silk were hung. These were drawn back +carelessly, and through the opening between them the party looked down +the length of the room beyond. They passed within. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE SALON +</H3> + +<P> +Julius Ricardo pushed aside the curtains with a thrill of excitement. +He found himself standing within a small oblong room which was +prettily, even daintily, furnished. On his left, close by the recess, +was a small fireplace with the ashes of a burnt-out fire in the grate. +Beyond the grate a long settee covered in pink damask, with a crumpled +cushion at each end, stood a foot or two away from the wall, and beyond +the settee the door of the room opened into the hall. At the end a long +mirror was let into the panelling, and a writing-table stood by the +mirror. On the right were the three windows, and between the two +nearest to Mr. Ricardo was the switch of the electric light. A +chandelier hung from the ceiling, an electric lamp stood upon the +writing-table, a couple of electric candles on the mantel-shelf. A +round satinwood table stood under the windows, with three chairs about +it, of which one was overturned, one was placed with its back to the +electric switch, and the third on the opposite side facing it. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo could hardly believe that he stood actually upon the spot +where, within twelve hours, a cruel and sinister tragedy had taken +place. There was so little disorder. The three windows on his right +showed him the blue sunlit sky and a glimpse of flowers and trees; +behind him the glass doors stood open to the lawn, where birds piped +cheerfully and the trees murmured of summer. But he saw Hanaud stepping +quickly from place to place, with an extraordinary lightness of step +for so big a man, obviously engrossed, obviously reading here and there +some detail, some custom of the inhabitants of that room. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo leaned with careful artistry against the wall. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, what has this room to say to me?" he asked importantly. Nobody +paid the slightest attention to his question, and it was just as well. +For the room had very little information to give him. He ran his eye +over the white Louis Seize furniture, the white panels of the wall, the +polished floor, the pink curtains. Even the delicate tracery of the +ceiling did not escape his scrutiny. Yet he saw nothing likely to help +him but an overturned chair and a couple of crushed cushions on a +settee. It was very annoying, all the more annoying because M. Hanaud +was so uncommonly busy. Hanaud looked carefully at the long settee and +the crumpled cushions, and he took out his measure and measured the +distance between the cushion at one end and the cushion at the other. +He examined the table, he measured the distance between the chairs. He +came to the fireplace and raked in the ashes of the burnt-out fire. But +Ricardo noticed a singular thing. In the midst of his search Hanaud's +eyes were always straying back to the settee, and always with a look of +extreme perplexity, as if he read there something, definitely +something, but something which he could not explain. Finally he went +back to it; he drew it farther away from the wall, and suddenly with a +little cry he stooped and went down on his knees. When he rose he was +holding some torn fragments of paper in his hand. He went over to the +writing-table and opened the blotting-book. Where it fell open there +were some sheets of note-paper, and one particular sheet of which half +had been torn off. He compared the pieces which he held with that torn +sheet, and seemed satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +There was a rack for note-paper upon the table, and from it he took a +stiff card. +</P> + +<P> +"Get me some gum or paste, and quickly," he said. His voice had become +brusque, the politeness had gone from his address. He carried the card +and the fragments of paper to the round table. There he sat down and, +with infinite patience, gummed the fragments on to the card, fitting +them together like the pieces of a Chinese puzzle. +</P> + +<P> +The others over his shoulders could see spaced words, written in +pencil, taking shape as a sentence upon the card. Hanaud turned +abruptly in his seat toward Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"You have, no doubt, a letter written by Mlle. Celie?" +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill took his letter-case from his pocket and a letter out of the +case. He hesitated for a moment as he glanced over what was written. +The four sheets were covered. He folded back the letter, so that only +the two inner sheets were visible, and handed it to Hanaud. Hanaud +compared it with the handwriting upon the card. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" he said at length, and the three men gathered behind him. On +the card the gummed fragments of paper revealed a sentence: +</P> + +<P> +"Je ne sais pas." +</P> + +<P> +"'I do not know,'" said Ricardo; "now this is very important." +</P> + +<P> +Beside the card Celia's letter to Wethermill was laid. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think?" asked Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +Besnard, the Commissaire of Police, bent over Hanaud's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"There are strong resemblances," he said guardedly. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo was on the look-out for deep mysteries. Resemblances were not +enough for him; they were inadequate to the artistic needs of the +situation. +</P> + +<P> +"Both were written by the same hand," he said definitely; "only in the +sentence written upon the card the handwriting is carefully disguised." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" said the Commissaire, bending forward again. "Here is an idea! +Yes, yes, there are strong differences." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo looked triumphant. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there are differences," said Hanaud. "Look how long the up stroke +of the 'p' is, how it wavers! See how suddenly this 's' straggles off, +as though some emotion made the hand shake. Yet this," and touching +Wethermill's letter he smiled ruefully, "this is where the emotion +should have affected the pen." He looked up at Wethermill's face and +then said quietly: +</P> + +<P> +"You have given us no opinion, monsieur. Yet your opinion should be the +most valuable of all. Were these two papers written by the same hand?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know," answered Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"And I, too," cried Hanaud, in a sudden exasperation, "je ne sais pas. +I do not know. It may be her hand carelessly counterfeited. It may be +her hand disguised. It may be simply that she wrote in a hurry with her +gloves on." +</P> + +<P> +"It may have been written some time ago," said Mr. Ricardo, encouraged +by his success to another suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"No; that is the one thing it could not have been," said Hanaud. "Look +round the room. Was there ever a room better tended? Find me a little +pile of dust in any one corner if you can! It is all as clean as a +plate. Every morning, except this one morning, this room has been swept +and polished. The paper was written and torn up yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +He enclosed the card in an envelope as he spoke, and placed it in his +pocket. Then he rose and crossed again to the settee. He stood at the +side of it, with his hands clutching the lapels of his coat and his +face gravely troubled. After a few moments of silence for himself, of +suspense for all the others who watched him, he stooped suddenly. +Slowly, and with extraordinary care, he pushed his hands under the +head-cushion and lifted it up gently, so that the indentations of its +surface might not be disarranged. He carried it over to the light of +the open window. The cushion was covered with silk, and as he held it +to the sunlight all could see a small brown stain. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud took his magnifying-glass from his pocket and bent his head over +the cushion. But at that moment, careful though he had been, the down +swelled up within the cushion, the folds and indentations disappeared, +the silk covering was stretched smooth. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" cried Besnard tragically. "What have you done?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud's face flushed. He had been guilty of a clumsiness—even he. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo took up the tale. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he exclaimed, "what have you done?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked at Ricardo in amazement at his audacity. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what have I done?" he asked. "Come! tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +"You have destroyed a clue," replied Ricardo impressively. +</P> + +<P> +The deepest dejection at once overspread Hanaud's burly face. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say that, M. Ricardo, I beseech you!" he implored. "A clue! and +I have destroyed it! But what kind of a clue? And how have I destroyed +it? And to what mystery would it be a clue if I hadn't destroyed it? +And what will become of me when I go back to Paris, and say in the Rue +de Jerusalem, 'Let me sweep the cellars, my good friends, for M. +Ricardo knows that I destroyed a clue. Faithfully he promised me that +he would not open his mouth, but I destroyed a clue, and his +perspicacity forced him into speech.'" +</P> + +<P> +It was the turn of M. Ricardo to grow red. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned with a smile to Besnard. +</P> + +<P> +"It does not really matter whether the creases in this cushion remain," +he said, "we have all seen them." And he replaced the glass in his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +He carried that cushion back and replaced it. Then he took the other, +which lay at the foot of the settee, and carried it in its turn to the +window. This was indented too, and ridged up, and just at the marks the +nap of the silk was worn, and there was a slit where it had been cut. +The perplexity upon Hanaud's face greatly increased. He stood with the +cushion in his hands, no longer looking at it, but looking out through +the doors at the footsteps so clearly defined—the foot-steps of a girl +who had run from this room and sprung into a motor-car and driven away. +He shook his head, and, carrying back the cushion, laid it carefully +down. Then he stood erect, gazed about the room as though even yet he +might force its secrets out from its silence, and cried, with a sudden +violence: +</P> + +<P> +"There is something here, gentlemen, which I do not understand." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo heard some one beside him draw a deep breath, and turned. +Wethermill stood at his elbow. A faint colour had come back to his +cheeks, his eyes were fixed intently upon Hanaud's face. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think?" he asked; and Hanaud replied brusquely: +</P> + +<P> +"It's not my business to hold opinions, monsieur; my business is to +make sure." +</P> + +<P> +There was one point, and only one, of which he had made every one in +that room sure. He had started confident. Here was a sordid crime, +easily understood. But in that room he had read something which had +troubled him, which had raised the sordid crime on to some higher and +perplexing level. +</P> + +<P> +"Then M. Fleuriot after all might be right?" asked the Commissaire +timidly. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud stared at him for a second, then smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"L'affaire Dreyfus?" he cried. "Oh la, la, la! No, but there is +something else." +</P> + +<P> +What was that something? Ricardo asked himself. He looked once more +about the room. He did not find his answer, but he caught sight of an +ornament upon the wall which drove the question from his mind. The +ornament, if so it could be called, was a painted tambourine with a +bunch of bright ribbons tied to the rim; and it was hung upon the wall +between the settee and the fireplace at about the height of a man's +head. Of course it might be no more than it seemed to be—a rather +gaudy and vulgar toy, such as a woman like Mme. Dauvray would be very +likely to choose in order to dress her walls. But it swept Ricardo's +thoughts back of a sudden to the concert-hall at Leamington and the +apparatus of a spiritualistic show. After all, he reflected +triumphantly, Hanaud had not noticed everything, and as he made the +reflection Hanaud's voice broke in to corroborate him. +</P> + +<P> +"We have seen everything here; let us go upstairs," he said. "We will +first visit the room of Mlle. Celie. Then we will question the maid, +Helene Vauquier." +</P> + +<P> +The four men, followed by Perrichet, passed out by the door into the +hall and mounted the stairs. Celia's room was in the southwest angle of +the villa, a bright and airy room, of which one window overlooked the +road, and two others, between which stood the dressing-table, the +garden. Behind the room a door led into a little white-tiled bathroom. +Some towels were tumbled upon the floor beside the bath. In the bedroom +a dark-grey frock of tussore and a petticoat were flung carelessly on +the bed; a big grey hat of Ottoman silk was lying upon a chest of +drawers in the recess of a window; and upon a chair a little pile of +fine linen and a pair of grey silk stockings, which matched in shade +the grey suede shoes, were tossed in a heap. +</P> + +<P> +"It was here that you saw the light at half-past nine?" Hanaud said, +turning to Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur," replied Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"We may assume, then, that Mlle. Celie was changing her dress at that +time." +</P> + +<P> +Besnard was looking about him, opening a drawer here, a wardrobe there. +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie," he said, with a laugh, "was a particular young lady, and +fond of her fine clothes, if one may judge from the room and the order +of the cupboards. She must have changed her dress last night in an +unusual hurry." +</P> + +<P> +There was about the whole room a certain daintiness, almost, it seemed +to Mr. Ricardo, a fragrance, as though the girl had impressed something +of her own delicate self upon it. Wethermill stood upon the threshold +watching with a sullen face the violation of this chamber by the +officers of the police. +</P> + +<P> +No such feelings, however, troubled Hanaud. He went over to the +dressing-room and opened a few small leather cases which held Celia's +ornaments. In one or two of them a trinket was visible; others were +empty. One of these latter Hanaud held open in his hand, and for so +long that Besnard moved impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"You see it is empty, monsieur," he said, and suddenly Wethermill moved +forward into the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I see that," said Hanaud dryly. +</P> + +<P> +It was a case made to hold a couple of long ear-drops—those diamond +ear-drops, doubtless, which Mr. Ricardo had seen twinkling in the +garden. +</P> + +<P> +"Will monsieur let me see?" asked Wethermill, and he took the case in +his hands. "Yes," he said. "Mlle. Celie's ear-drops," and he handed the +case back with a thoughtful air. +</P> + +<P> +It was the first time he had taken a definite part in the +investigation. To Ricardo the reason was clear. Harry Wethermill had +himself given those ear-drops to Celia. Hanaud replaced the case and +turned round. +</P> + +<P> +"There is nothing more for us to see here," he said. "I suppose that no +one has been allowed to enter the room?" And he opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"No one except Helene Vauquier," replied the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo felt indignant at so obvious a piece of carelessness. Even +Wethermill looked surprised. Hanaud merely shut the door again. +</P> + +<P> +"Oho, the maid!" he said. "Then she has recovered!" +</P> + +<P> +"She is still weak," said the Commissaire. "But I thought it was +necessary that we should obtain at once a description of what Celie +Harland wore when she left the house. I spoke to M. Fleuriot about it, +and he gave me permission to bring Helene Vauquier here, who alone +could tell us. I brought her here myself just before you came. She +looked through the girl's wardrobe to see what was missing." +</P> + +<P> +"Was she alone in the room?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not for a moment," said M. Besnard haughtily. "Really, monsieur, we +are not so ignorant of how an affair of this kind should be conducted. +I was in the room myself the whole time, with my eye upon her." +</P> + +<P> +"That was just before I came," said Hanaud. He crossed carelessly to +the open window which overlooked the road and, leaning out of it, +looked up the road to the corner round which he and his friends had +come, precisely as the Commissaire had done. Then he turned back into +the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Which was the last cupboard or drawer that Helene Vauquier touched?" +he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"This one." +</P> + +<P> +Besnard stooped and pulled open the bottom drawer of a chest which +stood in the embrasure of the window. A light-coloured dress was lying +at the bottom. +</P> + +<P> +"I told her to be quick," said Besnard, "since I had seen that you were +coming. She lifted this dress out and said that nothing was missing +there. So I took her back to her room and left her with the nurse." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud lifted the light dress from the drawer, shook it out in front of +the window, twirled it round, snatched up a corner of it and held it to +his eyes, and then, folding it quickly, replaced it in the drawer. +</P> + +<P> +"Now show me the first drawer she touched." And this time he lifted out +a petticoat, and, taking it to the window, examined it with a greater +care. When he had finished with it he handed it to Ricardo to put away, +and stood for a moment or two thoughtful and absorbed. Ricardo in his +turn examined the petticoat. But he could see nothing unusual. It was +an attractive petticoat, dainty with frills and lace, but it was hardly +a thing to grow thoughtful over. He looked up in perplexity and saw +that Hanaud was watching his investigations with a smile of amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"When M. Ricardo has put that away," he said, "we will hear what Helene +Vauquier has to tell us." +</P> + +<P> +He passed out of the door last, and, locking it, placed the key in his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Helene Vauquier's room is, I think, upstairs," he said. And he moved +towards the staircase. +</P> + +<P> +But as he did so a man in plain clothes, who had been waiting upon the +landing, stepped forward. He carried in his hand a piece of thin, +strong whipcord. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Durette!" cried Besnard. "Monsieur Hanaud, I sent Durette this +morning round the shops of Aix with the cord which was found knotted +round Mme. Dauvray's neck." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud advanced quickly to the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Well! Did you discover anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur," said Durette. "At the shop of M. Corval, in the Rue du +Casino, a young lady in a dark-grey frock and hat bought some cord of +this kind at a few minutes after nine last night. It was just as the +shop was being closed. I showed Corval the photograph of Celie Harland +which M. le Commissaire gave me out of Mme. Dauvray's room, and he +identified it as the portrait of the girl who had bought the cord." +</P> + +<P> +Complete silence followed upon Durette's words. The whole party stood +like men stupefied. No one looked towards Wethermill; even Hanaud +averted his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that is very important," he said awkwardly. He turned away and, +followed by the others, went up the stairs to the bedroom of Helene +Vauquier. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HELENE VAUQUIER'S EVIDENCE +</H3> + +<P> +A nurse opened the door. Within the room Helene Vauquier was leaning +back in a chair. She looked ill, and her face was very white. On the +appearance of Hanaud, the Commissaire, and the others, however, she +rose to her feet. Ricardo recognised the justice of Hanaud's +description. She stood before them a hard-featured, tall woman of +thirty-five or forty, in a neat black stuff dress, strong with the +strength of a peasant, respectable, reliable. She looked what she had +been, the confidential maid of an elderly woman. On her face there was +now an aspect of eager appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, monsieur!" she began, "let me go from here—anywhere—into prison +if you like. But to stay here—where in years past we were so +happy—and with madame lying in the room below. No, it is +insupportable." +</P> + +<P> +She sank into her chair, and Hanaud came over to her side. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," he said, in a soothing voice. "I can understand your +feelings, my poor woman. We will not keep you here. You have, perhaps, +friends in Aix with whom you could stay?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, monsieur!" Helene cried gratefully. "Oh, but I thank you! That +I should have to sleep here to-night! Oh, how the fear of that has +frightened me!" +</P> + +<P> +"You need have had no such fear. After all, we are not the visitors of +last night," said Hanaud, drawing a chair close to her and patting her +hand sympathetically. "Now, I want you to tell these gentlemen and +myself all that you know of this dreadful business. Take your time, +mademoiselle! We are human." +</P> + +<P> +"But, monsieur, I know nothing," she cried. "I was told that I might go +to bed as soon as I had dressed Mlle. Celie for the seance." +</P> + +<P> +"Seance!" cried Ricardo, startled into speech. The picture of the +Assembly Hall at Leamington was again before his mind. But Hanaud +turned towards him, and, though Hanaud's face retained its benevolent +expression, there was a glitter in his eyes which sent the blood into +Ricardo's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you speak again, M. Ricardo?" the detective asked. "No? I thought +it was not possible." He turned back to Helene Vauquier. "So Mlle. +Celie practised seances. That is very strange. We will hear about them. +Who knows what thread may lead us to the truth?" +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur, it is not right that you should seek the truth from me. For, +consider this! I cannot speak with justice of Mlle. Celie. No, I +cannot! I did not like her. I was jealous—yes, jealous. Monsieur, you +want the truth—I hated her!" And the woman's face flushed and she +clenched her hand upon the arm of her chair. "Yes, I hated her. How +could I help it?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" asked Hanaud gently. "Why could you not help it?" +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier leaned back again, her strength exhausted, and smiled +languidly. +</P> + +<P> +"I will tell you. But remember it is a woman speaking to you, and +things which you will count silly and trivial mean very much to her. +There was one night last June—only last June! To think of it! So +little while ago there was no Mlle. Celie—" and, as Hanaud raised his +hand, she said hurriedly, "Yes, yes; I will control myself. But to +think of Mme. Dauvray now!" +</P> + +<P> +And thereupon she blurted out her story and explained to Mr. Ricardo +the question which had so perplexed him: how a girl of so much +distinction as Celia Harland came to be living with a woman of so +common a type as Mme. Dauvray. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, one night in June," said Helene Vauquier, "madame went with a +party to supper at the Abbaye Restaurant in Montmartre. And she brought +home for the first time Mlle. Celie. But you should have seen her! She +had on a little plaid skirt and a coat which was falling to pieces, and +she was starving—yes, starving. Madame told me the story that night as +I undressed her. Mlle. Celie was there dancing amidst the tables for a +supper with any one who would be kind enough to dance with her." +</P> + +<P> +The scorn of her voice rang through the room. She was the rigid, +respectable peasant woman, speaking out her contempt. And Wethermill +must needs listen to it. Ricardo dared not glance at him. +</P> + +<P> +"But hardly any one would dance with her in her rags, and no one would +give her supper except madame. Madame did. Madame listened to her story +of hunger and distress. Madame believed it, and brought her home. +Madame was so kind, so careless in her kindness. And now she lies +murdered for a reward!" An hysterical sob checked the woman's +utterances, her face began to work, her hands to twitch. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come!" said Hanaud gently, "calm yourself, mademoiselle." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier paused for a moment or two to recover her composure. "I +beg your pardon, monsieur, but I have been so long with madame—oh, the +poor woman! Yes, yes, I will calm myself. Well, madame brought her +home, and in a week there was nothing too good for Mlle. Celie. Madame +was like a child. Always she was being deceived and imposed upon. Never +she learnt prudence. But no one so quickly made her way to madame's +heart as Mlle. Celie. Mademoiselle must live with her. Mademoiselle +must be dressed by the first modistes. Mademoiselle must have lace +petticoats and the softest linen, long white gloves, and pretty ribbons +for her hair, and hats from Caroline Reboux at twelve hundred francs. +And madame's maid must attend upon her and deck her out in all these +dainty things. Bah!" +</P> + +<P> +Vauquier was sitting erect in her chair, violent, almost rancorous with +anger. She looked round upon the company and shrugged her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you not to come to me!" she said, "I cannot speak impartially, +or even gently of mademoiselle. Consider! For years I had been more +than madame's maid—her friend; yes, so she was kind enough to call me. +She talked to me about everything, consulted me about everything, took +me with her everywhere. Then she brings home, at two o'clock in the +morning, a young girl with a fresh, pretty face, from a Montmartre +restaurant, and in a week I am nothing at all—oh, but nothing—and +mademoiselle is queen." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it is quite natural," said Hanaud sympathetically. "You would not +have been human, mademoiselle, if you had not felt some anger. But tell +us frankly about these seances. How did they begin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, monsieur," Vauquier answered, "it was not difficult to begin them. +Mme. Dauvray had a passion for fortune-tellers and rogues of that kind. +Any one with a pack of cards and some nonsense about a dangerous woman +with black hair or a man with a limp—Monsieur knows the stories they +string together in dimly lighted rooms to deceive the credulous—any +one could make a harvest out of madame's superstitions. But monsieur +knows the type." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I do," said Hanaud, with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, after mademoiselle had been with us three weeks, she said to me +one morning when I was dressing her hair that it was a pity madame was +always running round the fortune-tellers, that she herself could do +something much more striking and impressive, and that if only I would +help her we could rescue madame from their clutches. Sir, I did not +think what power I was putting into Mlle. Celie's hands, or assuredly I +would have refused. And I did not wish to quarrel with Mlle. Celie; so +for once I consented, and, having once consented, I could never +afterwards refuse, for, if I had, mademoiselle would have made some +fine excuse about the psychic influence not being en rapport, and +meanwhile would have had me sent away. While if I had confessed the +truth to madame, she would have been so angry that I had been a party +to tricking her that again I would have lost my place. And so the +seances went on." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Hanaud. "I understand that your position was very +difficult. We shall not, I think," and he turned to the Commissaire +confidently for corroboration of his words, "be disposed to blame you." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not," said the Commissaire. "After all, life is not so easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Thus, then, the seances began," said Hanaud, leaning forward with a +keen interest. "This is a strange and curious story you are telling me, +Mlle. Vauquier. Now, how were they conducted? How did you assist? What +did Mlle. Celie do? Rap on the tables in the dark and rattle +tambourines like that one with the knot of ribbons which hangs upon the +wall of the salon?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a gentle and inviting irony in Hanaud's tone. M. Ricardo was +disappointed. Hanaud had after all not overlooked the tambourine. +Without Ricardo's reason to notice it, he had none the less observed it +and borne it in his memory. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, monsieur, the tambourines and the rapping on the table!" cried +Helene. "That was nothing—oh, but nothing at all. Mademoiselle Celie +would make spirits appear and speak!" +</P> + +<P> +"Really! And she was never caught out! But Mlle. Celie must have been a +remarkably clever girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she was of an address which was surprising. Sometimes madame and I +were alone. Sometimes there were others, whom madame in her pride had +invited. For she was very proud, monsieur, that her companion could +introduce her to the spirits of dead people. But never was Mlle. Celie +caught out. She told me that for many years, even when quite a child, +she had travelled through England giving these exhibitions." +</P> + +<P> +"Oho!" said Hanaud, and he turned to Wethermill. "Did you know that?" +he asked in English. +</P> + +<P> +"I did not," he said. "I do not now." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"To me this story does not seem invented," he replied. And then he +spoke again in French to Helene Vauquier. "Well, continue, +mademoiselle! Assume that the company is assembled for our seance." +</P> + +<P> +"Then Mlle. Celie, dressed in a long gown of black velvet, which set +off her white arms and shoulders well—oh, mademoiselle did not forget +those little trifles," Helene Vauquier interrupted her story, with a +return of her bitterness, to interpolate—"mademoiselle would sail into +the room with her velvet train flowing behind her, and perhaps for a +little while she would say there was a force working against her, and +she would sit silent in a chair while madame gaped at her with open +eyes. At last mademoiselle would say that the powers were favourable +and the spirits would manifest themselves to-night. Then she would be +placed in a cabinet, perhaps with a string tied across the door +outside—you will understand it was my business to see after the +string—and the lights would be turned down, or perhaps out altogether. +Or at other times we would sit holding hands round a table, Mlle. Celie +between Mme. Dauvray and myself. But in that case the lights would be +turned out first, and it would be really my hand which held Mme. +Dauvray's. And whether it was the cabinet or the chairs, in a moment +mademoiselle would be creeping silently about the room in a little pair +of soft-soled slippers without heels, which she wore so that she might +not be heard, and tambourines would rattle as you say, and fingers +touch the forehead and the neck, and strange voices would sound from +corners of the room, and dim apparitions would appear—the spirits of +great ladies of the past, who would talk with Mme. Dauvray. Such ladies +as Mme. de Castiglione, Marie Antoinette, Mme. de Medici—I do not +remember all the names, and very likely I do not pronounce them +properly. Then the voices would cease and the lights be turned up, and +Mlle. Celie would be found in a trance just in the same place and +attitude as she had been when the lights were turned out. Imagine, +messieurs, the effect of such seances upon a woman like Mme. Dauvray. +She was made for them. She believed in them implicitly. The words of +the great ladies from the past—she would remember and repeat them, and +be very proud that such great ladies had come back to the world merely +to tell her—Mme. Dauvray—about their lives. She would have had +seances all day, but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at +the end of them. But Mlle. Celie was of an address! For instance—it +will seem very absurd and ridiculous to you, gentlemen, but you must +remember what Mme. Dauvray was—for instance, madame was particularly +anxious to speak with the spirit of Mme. de Montespan. Yes, yes! She +had read all the memoirs about that lady. Very likely Mlle. Celie had +put the notion into Mme. Dauvray's head, for madame was not a scholar. +But she was dying to hear that famous woman's voice and to catch a dim +glimpse of her face. Well, she was never gratified. Always she hoped. +Always Mlle. Celie tantalised her with the hope. But she would not +gratify it. She would not spoil her fine affairs by making these treats +too common. And she acquired—how should she not?—a power over Mme. +Dauvray which was unassailable. The fortune-tellers had no more to say +to Mme. Dauvray. She did nothing but felicitate herself upon the happy +chance which had sent her Mlle. Celie. And now she lies in her room +murdered!" +</P> + +<P> +Once more Helene's voice broke upon the words. But Hanaud poured her +out a glass of water and held it to her lips. Helene drank it eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"There, that is better, is it not?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur," said Helene Vauquier, recovering herself. "Sometimes, +too," she resumed, "messages from the spirits would flutter down in +writing on the table." +</P> + +<P> +"In writing?" exclaimed Hanaud quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; answers to questions. Mlle. Celie had them ready. Oh, but she was +of an address altogether surprising. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said Hanaud slowly; and he added, "But sometimes, I suppose, +the questions were questions which Mlle. Celie could not answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes," Helene Vauquier admitted, "when visitors were present. +When Mme. Dauvray was alone—well, she was an ignorant woman, and any +answer would serve. But it was not so when there were visitors whom +Mlle. Celie did not know, or only knew slightly. These visitors might +be putting questions to test her, of which they knew the answers, while +Mlle. Celie did not." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly," said Hanaud. "What happened then?" +</P> + +<P> +All who were listening understood to what point he was leading Helene +Vauquier. All waited intently for her answer. +</P> + +<P> +She smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"It was all one to Mlle. Celie." +</P> + +<P> +"She was prepared with an escape from the difficulty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly prepared." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"I can think of no way out of it except the one," and he looked round +to the Commissaire and to Ricardo as though he would inquire of them +how many ways they had discovered. "I can think of no escape except +that a message in writing should flutter down from the spirit appealed +to saying frankly," and Hanaud shrugged his shoulders, "'I do not +know.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no no, monsieur," replied Helene Vauquier in pity for Hanaud's +misconception, "I see that you are not in the habit of attending +seances. It would never do for a spirit to admit that it did not know. +At once its authority would be gone, and with it Mlle. Celie's as well. +But on the other hand, for inscrutable reasons the spirit might not be +allowed to answer." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said Hanaud, meekly accepting the correction. "The +spirit might reply that it was forbidden to answer, but never that it +did not know." +</P> + +<P> +"No, never that," said Helene. So it seemed that Hanaud must look +elsewhere for the explanation of that sentence. "I do not know," Helene +continued: "Oh, Mlle. Celie—it was not easy to baffle her, I can tell +you. She carried a lace scarf which she could drape about her head, and +in a moment she would be, in the dim light, an old, old woman, with a +voice so altered that no one could know it. Indeed, you said rightly, +monsieur—she was clever." +</P> + +<P> +To all who listened Helene Vauquier's story carried its conviction. +Mme. Dauvray rose vividly before their minds as a living woman. Celie's +trickeries were so glibly described that they could hardly have been +invented, and certainly not by this poor peasant-woman whose lips so +bravely struggled with Medici, and Montespan, and the names of the +other great ladies. How, indeed, should she know of them at all? She +could never have had the inspiration to concoct the most convincing +item of her story—the queer craze of Mme. Dauvray for an interview +with Mme. de Montespan. These details were assuredly the truth. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo, indeed, knew them to be true. Had he not himself seen the girl +in her black velvet dress shut up in a cabinet, and a great lady of the +past dimly appear in the darkness? Moreover, Helene Vauquier's jealousy +was so natural and inevitable a thing. Her confession of it +corroborated all her story. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then," said Hanaud, "we come to last night. There was a seance +held in the salon last night." +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur," said Vauquier, shaking her head; "there was no seance +last night." +</P> + +<P> +"But already you have said—" interrupted the Commissaire; and Hanaud +held up his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Let her speak, my friend." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur shall hear," said Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +It appeared that at five o'clock in the afternoon Mme. Dauvray and +Mlle. Celie prepared to leave the house on foot. It was their custom to +walk down at this hour to the Villa des Fleurs, pass an hour or so +there, dine in a restaurant, and return to the Rooms to spend the +evening. On this occasion, however, Mme. Dauvray informed Helene that +they should be back early and bring with them a friend who was +interested in, but entirely sceptical of, spiritualistic +manifestations. "But we shall convince her to-night, Celie," she said +confidently; and the two women then went out. Shortly before eight +Helene closed the shutters both of the upstair and the downstair +windows and of the glass doors into the garden, and returned to the +kitchen, which was at the back of the house—that is, on the side +facing the road. There had been a fall of rain at seven which had +lasted for the greater part of the hour, and soon after she had shut +the windows the rain fell again in a heavy shower, and Helene, knowing +that madame felt the chill, lighted a small fire in the salon. The +shower lasted until nearly nine, when it ceased altogether and the +night cleared up. +</P> + +<P> +It was close upon half-past nine when the bell rang from the salon. +Vauquier was sure of the hour, for the charwoman called her attention +to the clock. +</P> + +<P> +"I found Mme. Dauvray, Mlle. Celie, and another woman in the salon," +continued Helene Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame had let them in with her latchkey." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, the other woman!" cried Besnard. "Had you seen her before?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"What was she like?" +</P> + +<P> +"She was sallow, with black hair and bright eyes like beads. She was +short and about forty-five years old, though it is difficult to judge +of these things. I noticed her hands, for she was taking her gloves +off, and they seemed to me to be unusually muscular for a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" cried Louis Besnard. "That is important." +</P> + +<P> +"Mme. Dauvray was, as she always was before a seance, in a feverish +flutter. 'You will help Mlle. Celie to dress, Helene, and be very +quick,' she said; and with an extraordinary longing she added, 'Perhaps +we shall see her to-night.' Her, you understand, was Mme. de Montespan." +And she turned to the stranger and said, "You will believe, Adele, +after to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Adele!" said the Commissaire wisely. "Then Adele was the strange +woman's name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," said Hanaud dryly. +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier reflected. +</P> + +<P> +"I think Adele was the name," she said in a more doubtful tone. "It +sounded like Adele." +</P> + +<P> +The irrepressible Mr. Ricardo was impelled to intervene. +</P> + +<P> +"What Monsieur Hanaud means," he explained, with the pleasant air of a +man happy to illuminate the dark intelligence of a child, "is that +Adele was probably a pseudonym." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned to him with a savage grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Now that is sure to help her!" he cried. "A pseudonym! Helene Vauquier +is sure to understand that simple and elementary word. How bright this +M. Ricardo is! Where shall we find a new pin more bright? I ask you," +and he spread out his hands in a despairing admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo flushed red, but he answered never a word. He must endure +gibes and humiliations like a schoolboy in a class. His one constant +fear was lest he should be turned out of the room. The Commissaire +diverted wrath from him however. +</P> + +<P> +"What he means by pseudonym," he said to Helene Vauquier, explaining +Mr. Ricardo to her as Mr. Ricardo had presumed to explain Hanaud, "is a +false name. Adele may have been, nay, probably was, a false name +adopted by this strange woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Adele, I think, was the name used," replied Helene, the doubt in her +voice diminishing as she searched her memory. "I am almost sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we will call her Adele," said Hanaud impatiently. "What does it +matter? Go on, Mademoiselle Vauquier." +</P> + +<P> +"The lady sat upright and squarely upon the edge of a chair, with a +sort of defiance, as though she was determined nothing should convince +her, and she laughed incredulously." +</P> + +<P> +Here, again, all who heard were able vividly to conjure up the +scene—the defiant sceptic sitting squarely on the edge of her chair, +removing her gloves from her muscular hands; the excited Mme. Dauvray, +so absorbed in the determination to convince; and Mlle. Celie running +from the room to put on the black gown which would not be visible in +the dim light. +</P> + +<P> +"Whilst I took off mademoiselle's dress," Vauquier continued, "she +said: 'When I have gone down to the salon you can go to bed, Helene. +Mme. Adele'—yes, it was Adele—'will be fetched by a friend in a +motorcar, and I can let her out and fasten the door again. So if you +hear the car you will know that it has come for her.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she said that!" said Hanaud quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked gloomily towards Wethermill. Then he exchanged a sharp +glance with the Commissaire, and moved his shoulders in an almost +imperceptible shrug. But Mr. Ricardo saw it, and construed it into one +word. He imagined a jury uttering the word "Guilty." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier saw the movement too. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not condemn her too quickly, monsieur," she, said, with an impulse +of remorse. "And not upon my words. For, as I say, I—hated her." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded reassuringly, and she resumed: +</P> + +<P> +"I was surprised, and I asked mademoiselle what she would do without +her confederate. But she laughed, and said there would be no +difficulty. That is partly why I think there was no seance held last +night. Monsieur, there was a note in her voice that evening which I did +not as yet understand. Mademoiselle then took her bath while I laid out +her black dress and the slippers with the soft, noiseless soles. And +now I tell you why I am sure there was no seance last night—why Mlle. +Celie never meant there should be one." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, let us hear that," said Hanaud curiously, and leaning forward +with his hands upon his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"You have here, monsieur, a description of how mademoiselle was dressed +when she went away." Helene Vauquier picked up a sheet of paper from +the table at her side. "I wrote it out at the request of M. le +Commissaire." She handed the paper to Hanaud, who glanced through it as +she continued. "Well, except for the white lace coat, monsieur, I +dressed Mlle. Celie just in that way. She would have none of her plain +black robe. No, Mlle. Celie must wear her fine new evening frock of +pale reseda-green chiffon over soft clinging satin, which set off her +fair beauty so prettily. It left her white arms and shoulders bare, and +it had a long train, and it rustled as she moved. And with that she +must put on her pale green silk stockings, her new little satin +slippers to match, with the large paste buckles—and a sash of green +satin looped through another glittering buckle at the side of the +waist, with long ends loosely knotted together at the knee. I must tie +her fair hair with a silver ribbon, and pin upon her curls a large hat +of reseda green with a golden-brown ostrich feather drooping behind. I +warned mademoiselle that there was a tiny fire burning in the salon. +Even with the fire-screen in front of it there would still be a little +light upon the floor, and the glittering buckles on her feet would +betray her, even if the rustle of her dress did not. But she said she +would kick her slippers off. Ah, gentlemen, it is, after all, not so +that one dresses for a seance," she cried, shaking her head. "But it is +just so—is it not?—that one dresses to go to meet a lover." +</P> + +<P> +The suggestion startled every one who heard it. It fairly took Mr. +Ricardo's breath away. Wethermill stepped forward with a cry of revolt. +The Commissaire exclaimed, admiringly, "But here is an idea!" Even +Hanaud sat back in his chair, though his expression lost nothing of its +impassivity, and his eyes never moved from Helene Vauquier's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" she continued, "I will tell you what I think. It was my habit +to put out some sirop and lemonade and some little cakes in the +dining-room, which, as you know, is at the other side of the house +across the hall. I think it possible, messieurs, that while Mlle. Celie +was changing her dress Mme. Dauvray and the stranger, Adele, went into +the dining-room. I know that Mlle. Celie, as soon as she was dressed, +ran downstairs to the salon. Well, then, suppose Mlle. Celie had a +lover waiting with whom she meant to run away. She hurries through the +empty salon, opens the glass doors, and is gone, leaving the doors +open. And the thief, an accomplice of Adele, finds the doors open and +hides himself in the salon until Mme. Dauvray returns from the +dining-room. You see, that leaves Mlle. Celie innocent." +</P> + +<P> +Vauquier leaned forward eagerly, her white face flushing. There was a +moment's silence, and then Hanaud said: +</P> + +<P> +"That is all very well, Mlle. Vauquier. But it does not account for the +lace coat in which the girl went away. She must have returned to her +room to fetch that after you had gone to bed." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier leaned back with an air of disappointment. +</P> + +<P> +"That is true. I had forgotten the coat. I did not like Mlle. Celie, +but I am not wicked—" +</P> + +<P> +"Nor for the fact that the sirop and the lemonade had not been touched +in the dining-room," said the Commissaire, interrupting her. +</P> + +<P> +Again the disappointment overspread Vauquier's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" she asked. "I did not know—I have been kept a prisoner +here." +</P> + +<P> +The Commissaire cut her short with a cry of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen! listen!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Here is a theory which +accounts for all, which combines Vauquier's idea with ours, and +Vauquier's idea is, I think, very just, up to a point. Suppose, M. +Hanaud, that the girl was going to meet her lover, but the lover is the +murderer. Then all becomes clear. She does not run away to him; she +opens the door for him and lets him in." +</P> + +<P> +Both Hanaud and Ricardo stole a glance at Wethermill. How did he take +the theory? Wethermill was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, +his face white and contorted with a spasm of pain. But he had the air +of a man silently enduring an outrage rather than struck down by the +conviction that the woman he loved was worthless. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not for me to say, monsieur," Helene Vauquier continued. "I only +tell you what I know. I am a woman, and it would be very difficult for +a girl who was eagerly expecting her lover so to act that another woman +would not know it. However uncultivated and ignorant the other woman +was, that at all events she would know. The knowledge would spread to +her of itself, without a word. Consider, gentlemen!" And suddenly +Helene Vauquier smiled. "A young girl tingling with excitement from +head to foot, eager that her beauty just at this moment should be more +fresh, more sweet than ever it was, careful that her dress should set +it exquisitely off. Imagine it! Her lips ready for the kiss! Oh, how +should another woman not know? I saw Mlle. Celie, her cheeks rosy, her +eyes bright. Never had she looked so lovely. The pale-green hat upon +her fair head heavy with its curls! From head to foot she looked +herself over, and then she sighed—she sighed with pleasure because she +looked so pretty. That was Mlle. Celie last night, monsieur. She +gathered up her train, took her long white gloves in the other hand, +and ran down the stairs, her heels clicking on the wood, her buckles +glittering. At the bottom she turned and said to me: +</P> + +<P> +"'Remember, Helene, you can go to bed.' That was it monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +And now violently the rancour of Helene Vauquier's feelings burst out +once more. +</P> + +<P> +"For her the fine clothes, the pleasure, and the happiness. For me—I +could go to bed!" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked again at the description which Helene Vauquier had +written out, and read it through carefully. Then he asked a question, +of which Ricardo did not quite see the drift. +</P> + +<P> +"So," he said, "when this morning you suggested to Monsieur the +Commissaire that it would be advisable for you to go through Mlle. +Celie's wardrobe, you found that nothing more had been taken away +except the white lace coat?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is so." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Now, after Mlle. Celie had gone down the stairs—" +</P> + +<P> +"I put the lights out in her room and, as she had ordered me to do, I +went to bed. The next thing that I remember—but no! It terrifies me +too much to think of it." +</P> + +<P> +Helene shuddered and covered her face spasmodically with her hands. +Hanaud drew her hands gently down. +</P> + +<P> +"Courage! You are safe now, mademoiselle. Calm yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +She lay back with her eyes closed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes; it is true. I am safe now. But oh! I feel I shall never dare +to sleep again!" And the tears swam in her eyes. "I woke up with a +feeling of being suffocated. Mon Dieu! There was the light burning in +the room, and a woman, the strange woman with the strong hands, was +holding me down by the shoulders, while a man with his cap drawn over +his eyes and a little black moustache pressed over my lips a pad from +which a horribly sweet and sickly taste filled my mouth. Oh, I was +terrified! I could not scream. I struggled. The woman told me roughly +to keep quiet. But I could not. I must struggle. And then with a +brutality unheard of she dragged me up on to my knees while the man +kept the pad right over my mouth. The man, with the arm which was free, +held me close to him, and she bound my hands with a cord behind me. +Look!" +</P> + +<P> +She held out her wrists. They were terribly bruised. Red and angry +lines showed where the cord had cut deeply into her flesh. +</P> + +<P> +"Then they flung me down again upon my back, and the next thing I +remember is the doctor standing over me and this kind nurse supporting +me." +</P> + +<P> +She sank back exhausted in her chair and wiped her forehead with her +handkerchief. The sweat stood upon it in beads. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, mademoiselle," said Hanaud gravely. "This has been a trying +ordeal for you. I understand that. But we are coming to the end. I want +you to read this description of Mlle. Celie through again to make sure +that nothing is omitted." He gave the paper into the maid's hands. "It +will be advertised, so it is important that it should be complete. See +that you have left out nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier bent her head over the paper. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Helene at last. "I do not think I have omitted anything." +And she handed the paper back. +</P> + +<P> +"I asked you," Hanaud continued suavely, "because I understand that +Mlle. Celie usually wore a pair of diamond ear-drops, and they are not +mentioned here." +</P> + +<P> +A faint colour came into the maid's face. +</P> + +<P> +"That is true, monsieur. I had forgotten. It is quite true." +</P> + +<P> +"Any one might forget," said Hanaud, with a reassuring smile. "But you +will remember now. Think! think! Did Mlle. Celie wear them last night?" +He leaned forward, waiting for her reply. Wethermill too, made a +movement. Both men evidently thought the point of great importance. The +maid looked at Hanaud for a few moments without speaking. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not from me, mademoiselle, that you will get the answer," said +Hanaud quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur. I was thinking," said the maid, her face flushing at the +rebuke. +</P> + +<P> +"Did she wear them when she went down the stairs last night?" he +insisted. +</P> + +<P> +"I think she wore them," she said doubtfully. "Ye-es—yes," and the +words came now firm and clear. "I remember well. Mlle. Celie had taken +them off before her bath, and they lay on the dressing-table. She put +them into her ears while I dressed her hair and arranged the bow of +ribbon in it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we will add the earrings to your description," said Hanaud, as he +rose from his chair with the paper in his hand, "and for the moment we +need not trouble you any more about Mademoiselle Celie." He folded the +paper up, slipped it into his letter-case, and put it away in his +pocket. "Let us consider that poor Madame Dauvray! Did she keep much +money in the house?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur; very little. She was well known in Aix and her cheques +were everywhere accepted without question. It was a high pleasure to +serve madame, her credit was so good," said Helene Vauquier, raising +her head as though she herself had a share in the pride of that good +credit. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt," Hanaud agreed. "There are many fine households where the +banking account is overdrawn, and it cannot be pleasant for the +servants." +</P> + +<P> +"They are put to so many shifts to hide it from the servants of their +neighbours," said Helene. "Besides," and she made a little grimace of +contempt, "a fine household and an overdrawn banking account—it is +like a ragged petticoat under a satin dress. That was never the case +with Madame Dauvray." +</P> + +<P> +"So that she was under no necessity to have ready money always in her +pocket," said Hanaud. "I understand that. But at times perhaps she won +at the Villa des Fleurs?" +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"She loved the Villa des Fleurs, but she never played for high sums and +often never played at all. If she won a few louis, she was as delighted +with her gains and as afraid to lose them again at the tables as if she +were of the poorest, and she stopped at once. No, monsieur; twenty or +thirty louis—there was never more than that in the house." +</P> + +<P> +"Then it was certainly for her famous collection of jewellery that +Madame Dauvray was murdered?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, where did she keep her jewellery?" +</P> + +<P> +"In a safe in her bedroom, monsieur. Every night she took off what she +had been wearing and locked it up with the rest. She was never too +tired for that." +</P> + +<P> +"And what did she do with the keys?" +</P> + +<P> +"That I cannot tell you. Certainly she locked her rings and necklaces +away whilst I undressed her. And she laid the keys upon the +dressing-table or the mantel-shelf—anywhere. But in the morning the +keys were no longer where she had left them. She had put them secretly +away." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned to another point. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose that Mademoiselle Celie knew of the safe and that the jewels +were kept there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes! Mademoiselle indeed was often in Madame Dauvray's room when +she was dressing or undressing. She must often have seen madame take +them out and lock them up again. But then, monsieur, so did I." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded to her with a friendly smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you once more, mademoiselle," he said. "The torture is over. But +of course Monsieur Fleuriot will require your presence." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier looked anxiously towards him. +</P> + +<P> +"But meanwhile I can go from this villa, monsieur?" she pleaded, with a +trembling voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly; you shall go to your friends at once." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, monsieur, thank you!" she cried, and suddenly she gave way. The +tears began to flow from her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and +sobbed. "It is foolish of me, but what would you?" She jerked out the +words between her sobs. "It has been too terrible." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," said Hanaud soothingly. "The nurse will put a few things +together for you in a bag. You will not leave Aix, of course, and I +will send some one with you to your friends." +</P> + +<P> +The maid started violently. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not a sergent-de-ville, monsieur, I beg of you. I should be +disgraced." +</P> + +<P> +"No. It shall be a man in plain clothes, to see that you are not +hindered by reporters on the way." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned towards the door. On the dressing-table a cord was lying. +He took it up and spoke to the nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"Was this the cord with which Helene Vauquier's hands were tied?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud handed it to the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +"It will be necessary to keep that," he said. +</P> + +<P> +It was a thin piece of strong whipcord. It was the same kind of cord as +that which had been found tied round Mme. Dauvray's throat. Hanaud +opened the door and turned back to the nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"We will send for a cab for Mlle. Vauquier. You will drive with her to +her door. I think after that she will need no further help. Pack up a +few things and bring them down. Mlle. Vauquier can follow, no doubt, +now without assistance." And, with a friendly nod, he left the room. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo had been wondering, through the examination, in what light +Hanaud considered Helene Vauquier. He was sympathetic, but the sympathy +might merely have been assumed to deceive. His questions betrayed in no +particular the colour of his mind. Now, however, he made himself clear. +He informed the nurse, in the plainest possible way, that she was no +longer to act as jailer. She was to bring Vauquier's things down; but +Vauquier could follow by herself. Evidently Helene Vauquier was cleared. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A STARTLING DISCOVERY +</H3> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill, however, was not so easily satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely, monsieur, it would be well to know whither she is going," he +said, "and to make sure that when she has gone there she will stay +there—until we want her again?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked at the young man pityingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can understand, monsieur, that you hold strong views about Helene +Vauquier. You are human, like the rest of us. And what she has said to +us just now would not make you more friendly. But—but—" and he +preferred to shrug his shoulders rather than to finish in words his +sentence. "However," he said, "we shall take care to know where Helene +Vauquier is staying. Indeed, if she is at all implicated in this affair +we shall learn more if we leave her free than if we keep her under lock +and key. You see that if we leave her quite free, but watch her very, +very carefully, so as to awaken no suspicion, she may be emboldened to +do something rash—or the others may." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo approved of Hanaud's reasoning. +</P> + +<P> +"That is quite true," he said. "She might write a letter." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, or receive one," added Hanaud, "which would be still more +satisfactory for us—supposing, of course, that she has anything to do +with this affair"; and again he shrugged his shoulders. He turned +towards the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +"You have a discreet officer whom you can trust?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly. A dozen." +</P> + +<P> +"I want only one." +</P> + +<P> +"And here he is," said the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +They were descending the stairs. On the landing of the first floor +Durette, the man who had discovered where the cord was bought, was +still waiting. Hanaud took Durette by the sleeve in the familiar way +which he so commonly used and led him to the top of the stairs, where +the two men stood for a few moments apart. It was plain that Hanaud was +giving, Durette receiving, definite instructions. Durette descended the +stairs; Hanaud came back to the others. +</P> + +<P> +"I have told him to fetch a cab," he said, "and convey Helene Vauquier +to her friends." Then he looked at Ricardo, and from Ricardo to the +Commissaire, while he rubbed his hand backwards and forwards across his +shaven chin. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you," he said, "I find this sinister little drama very +interesting to me. The sordid, miserable struggle for mastery in this +household of Mme. Dauvray—eh? Yes, very interesting. Just as much +patience, just as much effort, just as much planning for this small end +as a general uses to defeat an army—and, at the last, nothing gained. +What else is politics? Yes, very interesting." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes rested upon Wethermill's face for a moment, but they gave the +young man no hope. He took a key from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"We need not keep this room locked," he said. "We know all that there +is to be known." And he inserted the key into the lock of Celia's room +and turned it. +</P> + +<P> +"But is that wise, monsieur?" said Besnard. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The case is in your hands," said the Commissaire. To Ricardo the +proceedings seemed singularly irregular. But if the Commissaire was +content, it was not for him to object. +</P> + +<P> +"And where is my excellent friend Perrichet?" asked Hanaud; and leaning +over the balustrade he called him up from the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"We will now," said Hanaud, "have a glance into this poor murdered +woman's room." +</P> + +<P> +The room was opposite to Celia's. Besnard produced the key and unlocked +the door. Hanaud took off his hat upon the threshold and then passed +into the room with his companions. Upon the bed, outlined under a +sheet, lay the rigid form of Mme. Dauvray. Hanaud stepped gently to the +bedside and reverently uncovered the face. For a moment all could see +it—livid, swollen, unhuman. +</P> + +<P> +"A brutal business," he said in a low voice, and when he turned again +to his companions his face was white and sickly. He replaced the sheet +and gazed about the room. +</P> + +<P> +It was decorated and furnished in the same style as the salon +downstairs, yet the contrast between the two rooms was remarkable. +</P> + +<P> +Downstairs, in the salon, only a chair had been overturned. Here there +was every sign of violence and disorder. An empty safe stood open in +one corner; the rugs upon the polished floor had been tossed aside; +every drawer had been torn open, every wardrobe burst; the very bed had +been moved from its position. +</P> + +<P> +"It was in this safe that Madame Dauvray hid her jewels each night," +said the Commissaire as Hanaud gazed about the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, was it so?" Hanaud asked slowly. It seemed to Ricardo that he read +something in the aspect of this room too, which troubled his mind and +increased his perplexity. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Besnard confidently. "Every night Mme. Dauvray locked her +jewels away in this safe. Vauquier told us so this morning. Every night +she was never too tired for that. Besides, here"—and putting his hand +into the safe he drew out a paper—"here is the list of Mme. Dauvray's +jewellery." +</P> + +<P> +Plainly, however, Hanaud was not satisfied. He took the list and +glanced through the items. But his thoughts were not concerned with it. +</P> + +<P> +"If that is so," he said slowly, "Mme. Dauvray kept her jewels in this +safe, why has every drawer been ransacked, why was the bed moved? +Perrichet, lock the door—quietly—from the inside. That is right. Now +lean your back against it." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud waited until he saw Perrichet's broad back against the door. +Then he went down upon his knees, and, tossing the rugs here and there, +examined with the minutest care the inlaid floor. By the side of the +bed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread. This in its turn he moved +quickly aside. He bent his eyes to the ground, lay prone, moved this +way and that to catch the light upon the floor, then with a spring he +rose upon his knees. He lifted his finger to his lips. In a dead +silence he drew a pen-knife quickly from his pocket and opened it. He +bent down again and inserted the blade between the cracks of the +blocks. The three men in the room watched him with an intense +excitement. A block of wood rose from the floor, he pulled it out, laid +it noiselessly down, and inserted his hand into the opening. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill at Ricardo's elbow uttered a stifled cry. "Hush!" whispered +Hanaud angrily. He drew out his hand again. It was holding a green +leather jewel-case. He opened it, and a diamond necklace flashed its +thousand colours in their faces. He thrust in his hand again and again +and again, and each time that he withdrew it, it held a jewel-case. +Before the astonished eyes of his companions he opened them. Ropes of +pearls, collars of diamonds, necklaces of emeralds, rings of +pigeon-blood rubies, bracelets of gold studded with opals—Mme. +Dauvray's various jewellery was disclosed. +</P> + +<P> +"But that is astounding," said Besnard, in an awe-struck voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Then she was never robbed after all?" cried Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"What a piece of irony!" he whispered. "The poor woman is murdered for +her jewels, the room's turned upside down, and nothing is found. For +all the while they lay safe in this cache. Nothing is taken except what +she wore. Let us see what she wore." +</P> + +<P> +"Only a few rings, Helene Vauquier thought," said Besnard. "But she was +not sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Well, let us make sure!" and, taking the list from +the safe, he compared it with the jewellery in the cases on the floor, +ticking off the items one by one. When he had finished he knelt down +again, and, thrusting his hand into the hole, felt carefully about. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a pearl necklace missing," he said. "A valuable necklace, +from the description in the list and some rings. She must have been +wearing them;" and he sat back upon his heels. "We will send the +intelligent Perrichet for a bag," he said, "and we will counsel the +intelligent Perrichet not to breathe a word to any living soul of what +he has seen in this room. Then we will seal up in the bag the jewels, +and we will hand it over to M. le Commissaire, who will convey it with +the greatest secrecy out of this villa. For the list—I will keep it," +and he placed it carefully in his pocket-book. +</P> + +<P> +He unlocked the door and went out himself on to the landing. He looked +down the stairs and up the stairs; then he beckoned Perrichet to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Go!" he whispered. "Be quick, and when you come back hide the bag +carefully under your coat." +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet went down the stairs with pride written upon his face. Was he +not assisting the great M. Hanaud from the Surete in Paris? Hanaud +returned into Mme. Dauvray's room and closed the door. He looked into +the eyes of his companions. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you see the scene?" he asked with a queer smile of excitement. +He had forgotten Wethermill; he had forgotten even the dead woman +shrouded beneath the sheet. He was absorbed. His eyes were bright, his +whole face vivid with life. Ricardo saw the real man at this +moment—and feared for the happiness of Harry Wethermill. For nothing +would Hanaud now turn aside until he had reached the truth and set his +hands upon the quarry. Of that Ricardo felt sure. He was trying now to +make his companions visualise just what he saw and understood. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you see it? The old woman locking up her jewels in this safe +every night before the eyes of her maid or her companion, and then, as +soon as she was alone, taking them stealthily out of the safe and +hiding them in this secret place. But I tell you—this is human. Yes, +it is interesting just because it is so human. Then picture to +yourselves last night, the murderers opening this safe and finding +nothing—oh, but nothing!—and ransacking the room in deadly haste, +kicking up the rugs, forcing open the drawers, and always finding +nothing—nothing—nothing. Think of their rage, their stupefaction, and +finally their fear! They must go, and with one pearl necklace, when +they had hoped to reap a great fortune. Oh, but this is +interesting—yes, I tell you—I, who have seen many strange +things—this is interesting." +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet returned with a canvas bag, into which Hanaud placed the +jewel-cases. He sealed the bag in the presence of the four men and +handed it to Besnard. He replaced the block of wood in the floor, +covered it over again with the rug, and rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" he said, in a low voice, and with a gravity which impressed +them all. "There is something in this house which I do not understand. +I have told you so. I tell you something more now. I am afraid—I am +afraid." And the word startled his hearers like a thunderclap, though +it was breathed no louder than a whisper, "Yes, my friends," he +repeated, nodding his head, "terribly afraid." And upon the others fell +a discomfort, an awe, as though something sinister and dangerous were +present in the room and close to them. So vivid was the feeling, +instinctively they drew nearer together. "Now, I warn you solemnly. +There must be no whisper that these jewels have been discovered; no +newspaper must publish a hint of it; no one must suspect that here in +this room we have found them. Is that understood?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure, monsieur," said Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +As for Harry Wethermill, he made no reply. His burning eyes were fixed +upon Hanaud's face, and that was all. Hanaud, for his part, asked for +no reply from him. Indeed, he did not look towards Harry Wethermill's +face at all. Ricardo understood. Hanaud did not mean to be deterred by +the suffering written there. +</P> + +<P> +He went down again into the little gay salon lit with flowers and +August sunlight, and stood beside the couch gazing at it with troubled +eyes. And, as he gazed, he closed his eyes and shivered. He shivered +like a man who has taken a sudden chill. Nothing in all this morning's +investigations, not even the rigid body beneath the sheet, nor the +strange discovery of the jewels, had so impressed Ricardo. For there he +had been confronted with facts, definite and complete; here was a +suggestion of unknown horrors, a hint, not a fact, compelling the +imagination to dark conjecture. Hanaud shivered. That he had no idea +why Hanaud shivered made the action still more significant, still more +alarming. And it was not Ricardo alone who was moved by it. A voice of +despair rang through the room. The voice was Harry Wethermill's, and +his face was ashy white. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur!" he cried, "I do not know what makes you shudder; but I am +remembering a few words you used this morning." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned upon his heel. His face was drawn and grey and his eyes +blazed. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend, I also am remembering those words," he said. Thus the two +men stood confronting one another, eye to eye, with awe and fear in +both their faces. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo was wondering to what words they both referred, when the sound +of wheels broke in upon the silence. The effect upon Hanaud was +magical. He thrust his hands in his pockets. +</P> + +<P> +"Helene Vauquier's cab," he said lightly. He drew out his +cigarette-case and lighted a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us see that poor woman safely off. It is a closed cab I hope." +</P> + +<P> +It was a closed landau. It drove past the open door of the salon to the +front door of the house. In Hanaud's wake they all went out into the +hall. The nurse came down alone carrying Helene Vauquier's bag. She +placed it in the cab and waited in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps Helene Vauquier has fainted," she said anxiously: "she does +not come." And she moved towards the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud took a singularly swift step forward and stopped her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you think that?" he asked, with a queer smile upon his +face, and as he spoke a door closed gently upstairs. "See," he +continued, "you are wrong: she is coming." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo was puzzled. It had seemed to him that the door which had +closed so gently was nearer than Helene Vauquier's door. It seemed to +him that the door was upon the first, not the second landing. But +Hanaud had noticed nothing strange; so it could not be. He greeted +Helene Vauquier with a smile as she came down the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"You are better, mademoiselle," he said politely. +"One can see that. There is more colour in your cheeks. A day or two, +and you will be yourself again." +</P> + +<P> +He held the door open while she got into the cab. The nurse took her +seat beside her; Durette mounted on the box. The cab turned and went +down the drive. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodbye, mademoiselle," cried Hanaud, and he watched until the high +shrubs hid the cab from his eyes. Then he behaved in an extraordinary +way. He turned and sprang like lightning up the stairs. His agility +amazed Ricardo. The others followed upon his heels. He flung himself at +Celia's door and opened it He burst into the room, stood for a second, +then ran to the window. He hid behind the curtain, looking out. With +his hand he waved to his companions to keep back. The sound of wheels +creaking and rasping rose to their ears. The cab had just come out into +the road. Durette upon the box turned and looked towards the house. +Just for a moment Hanaud leaned from the window, as Besnard, the +Commissaire, had done, and, like Besnard again, he waved his hand. Then +he came back into the room and saw, standing in front of him, with his +mouth open and his eyes starting out of his head, Perrichet—the +intelligent Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," cried Perrichet, "something has been taken from this room." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked round the room and shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"But yes, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "Oh, but yes. See! Upon this +dressing-table there was a small pot of cold cream. It stood here, +where my finger is, when we were in this room an hour ago. Now it is +gone." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud burst into a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend Perrichet," he said ironically, "I will tell you the +newspaper did not do you justice. You are more intelligent. The truth, +my excellent friend, lies at the bottom of a well; but you would find +it at the bottom of a pot of cold cream. Now let us go. For in this +house, gentlemen, we have nothing more to do." +</P> + +<P> +He passed out of the room. Perrichet stood aside, his face crimson, his +attitude one of shame. He had been rebuked by the great M. Hanaud, and +justly rebuked. He knew it now. He had wished to display his +intelligence—yes, at all costs he must show how intelligent he was. +And he had shown himself a fool. He should have kept silence about that +pot of cream. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP +</H3> + +<P> +Hanaud walked away from the Villa Rose in the company of Wethermill and +Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"We will go and lunch," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; come to my hotel," said Harry Wethermill. But Hanaud shook his +head. +</P> + +<P> +"No; come with me to the Villa des Fleurs," he replied. "We may learn +something there; and in a case like this every minute is of importance. +We have to be quick." +</P> + +<P> +"I may come too?" cried Mr. Ricardo eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"By all means," replied Hanaud, with a smile of extreme courtesy. +"Nothing could be more delicious than monsieur's suggestions"; and with +that remark he walked on silently. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo was in a little doubt as to the exact significance of the +words. But he was too excited to dwell long upon them. Distressed +though he sought to be at his friend's grief, he could not but assume +an air of importance. All the artist in him rose joyfully to the +occasion. He looked upon himself from the outside. He fancied without +the slightest justification that people were pointing him out. "That +man has been present at the investigation at the Villa Rose," he seemed +to hear people say. "What strange things he could tell us if he would!" +</P> + +<P> +And suddenly, Mr. Ricardo began to reflect. What, after all, could he +have told them? +</P> + +<P> +And that question he turned over in his mind while he ate his luncheon. +Hanaud wrote a letter between the courses. They were sitting at a +corner table, and Hanaud was in the corner with his back to the wall. +He moved his plate, too, over the letter as he wrote it. It would have +been impossible for either of his guests to see what he had written, +even if they had wished. Ricardo, indeed, did wish. He rather resented +the secrecy with which the detective, under a show of openness, +shrouded his thoughts and acts. Hanaud sent the waiter out to fetch an +officer in plain clothes, who was in attendance at the door, and he +handed the letter to this man. Then he turned with an apology to his +guests. +</P> + +<P> +"It is necessary that we should find out," he explained, "as soon as +possible, the whole record of Mlle. Celie." +</P> + +<P> +He lighted a cigar, and over the coffee he put a question to Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Now tell me what you make of the case. What M. Wethermill thinks—that +is clear, is it not? Helene Vauquier is the guilty one. But you, M. +Ricardo? What is your opinion?" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo took from his pocket-book a sheet of paper and from his pocket +a pencil. He was intensely flattered by the request of Hanaud, and he +proposed to do himself justice. "I will make a note here of what I +think the salient features of the mystery"; and he proceeded to +tabulate the points in the following way: +</P> + +<P> +(1) Celia Harland made her entrance into Mme. Dauvray's household under +very doubtful circumstances. +</P> + +<P> +(2) By methods still more doubtful she acquired an extraordinary +ascendency over Mme. Dauvray's mind. +</P> + +<P> +(3) If proof were needed how complete that ascendency was, a glance at +Celia Harland's wardrobe would suffice; for she wore the most expensive +clothes. +</P> + +<P> +(4) It was Celia Harland who arranged that Servettaz, the chauffeur, +should be absent at Chambery on the Tuesday night—the night of the +murder. +</P> + +<P> +(5) It was Celia Harland who bought the cord with which Mme. Dauvray +was strangled and Helene Vauquier bound. +</P> + +<P> +(6) The footsteps outside the salon show that Celia Harland ran from +the salon to the motor-car. +</P> + +<P> +(7) Celia Harland pretended that there should be a seance on the +Tuesday, but she dressed as though she had in view an appointment with +a lover, instead of a spiritualistic seance. +</P> + +<P> +(8) Celia Harland has disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +These eight points are strongly suggestive of Celia Harland's +complicity in the murder. But I have no clue which will enable me to +answer the following questions: +</P> + +<P> +(a) Who was the man who took part in the crime? (b) Who was the woman +who came to the villa on the evening of the murder with Mme. Dauvray +and Celia Harland? +</P> + +<P> +(c) What actually happened in the salon? How was the murder committed? +</P> + +<P> +(d) Is Helene Vauquier's story true? +</P> + +<P> +(e) What did the torn-up scrap of writing mean? (Probably spirit +writing in Celia Harland's hand.) +</P> + +<P> +(f) Why has one cushion on the settee a small, fresh, brown stain, +which is probably blood? Why is the other cushion torn? +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo had a momentary thought of putting down yet another +question. He was inclined to ask whether or no a pot of cold cream had +disappeared from Celia Harland's bedroom; but he remembered that Hanaud +had set no store upon that incident, and he refrained. Moreover, he had +come to the end of his sheet of paper. He handed it across the table to +Hanaud and leaned back in his chair, watching the detective with all +the eagerness of a young author submitting his first effort to a critic. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud read it through slowly. At the end he nodded his head in +approval. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we will see what M. Wethermill has to say," he said, and he +stretched out the paper towards Harry Wethermill, who throughout the +luncheon had not said a word. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," cried Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +But Harry Wethermill already held the written sheet in his hand. He +smiled rather wistfully at his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"It is best that I should know just what you both think," he said, and +in his turn he began to read the paper through. He read the first eight +points, and then beat with his fist upon the table. +</P> + +<P> +"No no," he cried; "it is not possible! I don't blame you, Ricardo. +These are facts, and, as I said, I can face facts. But there will be an +explanation—if only we can discover it." +</P> + +<P> +He buried his face for a moment in his hands. Then he took up the paper +again. +</P> + +<P> +"As for the rest, Helene Vauquier lied," he cried violently, and he +tossed the paper to Hanaud. "What do you make of it?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud smiled and shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever go for a voyage on a ship?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because every day at noon three officers take an observation to +determine the ship's position—the captain, the first officer, and the +second officer. Each writes his observation down, and the captain takes +the three observations and compares them. If the first or second +officer is out in his reckoning, the captain tells him so, but he does +not show his own. For at times, no doubt, he is wrong too. So, +gentlemen, I criticise your observations, but I do not show you mine." +</P> + +<P> +He took up Ricardo's paper and read it through again. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said pleasantly. "But the two questions which are most +important, which alone can lead us to the truth—how do they come to be +omitted from your list, Mr. Ricardo?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud put the question with his most serious air. But Ricardo was none +the less sensible of the raillery behind the solemn manner. He flushed +and made no answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Still," continued Hanaud, "here are undoubtedly some questions. Let us +consider them! Who was the man who took a part in the crime? Ah, if we +only knew that, what a lot of trouble we should save ourselves! Who was +the woman? What a good thing it would be to know that too! How clearly, +after all, Mr. Ricardo puts his finger on the important points! What +did actually happen in the salon?" And as he quoted that question the +raillery died out of his voice. He leaned his elbows on the table and +bent forward. +</P> + +<P> +"What did actually happen in that little pretty room, just twelve hours +ago?" he repeated. "When no sunlight blazed upon the lawn, and all the +birds were still, and all the windows shuttered and the world dark, +what happened? What dreadful things happened? We have not much to go +upon. Let us formulate what we know. We start with this. The murder was +not the work of a moment. It was planned with great care and cunning, +and carried out to the letter of the plan. There must be no noise, no +violence. On each side of the Villa Rose there are other villas; a few +yards away the road runs past. A scream, a cry, the noise of a +struggle—these sounds, or any one of them, might be fatal to success. +Thus the crime was planned; and there WAS no scream, there WAS no +struggle. Not a chair was broken, and only a chair upset. Yes, there +were brains behind that murder. We know that. But what do we know of +the plan? How far can we build it up? Let us see. First, there was an +accomplice in the house—perhaps two." +</P> + +<P> +"No!" cried Harry Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud took no notice of the interruption. +</P> + +<P> +"Secondly the woman came to the house with Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. Celie +between nine and half-past nine. Thirdly, the man came afterwards, but +before eleven, set open the gate, and was admitted into the salon, +unperceived by Mme. Dauvray. That also we can safely assume. But what +happened in the salon? Ah! There is the question." Then he shrugged his +shoulders and said with the note of raillery once more in his voice: +</P> + +<P> +"But why should we trouble our heads to puzzle out this mystery, since +M. Ricardo knows?" +</P> + +<P> +"I?" cried Ricardo in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure," replied Hanaud calmly. "For I look at another of your +questions. 'WHAT DID THE TORN-UP SCRAP OF WRITING MEAN?' and you add: +'Probably spirit-writing.' Then there was a seance held last night in +the little salon! Is that so?" +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill started. Mr. Ricardo was at a loss. +</P> + +<P> +"I had not followed my suggestion to its conclusion," he admitted +humbly. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Hanaud. "But I ask myself in sober earnest, 'Was there a +seance held in the salon last night?' Did the tambourine rattle in the +darkness on the wall?" +</P> + +<P> +"But if Helene Vauquier's story is all untrue?" cried Wethermill, again +in exasperation. +</P> + +<P> +"Patience, my friend. Her story was not all untrue. I say there were +brains behind this crime; yes, but brains, even the cleverest, would +not have invented this queer, strange story of the seances and of Mme. +de Montespan. That is truth. But yet, if there were a seance held, if +the scrap of paper were spirit-writing in answer to some awkward +question, why—and here I come to my first question, which M. Ricardo +has omitted—why did Mlle. Celie dress herself with so much elegance +last night? What Vauquier said is true. Her dress was not suited to a +seance. A light-coloured, rustling frock, which would be visible in a +dim light, or even in the dark, which would certainly be heard at every +movement she made, however lightly she stepped, and a big hat—no no! I +tell you, gentlemen, we shall not get to the bottom of this mystery +until we know why Mlle. Celie dressed herself as she did last night."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Ricardo admitted. "I overlooked that point." "Did she—" Hanaud +broke off and bowed to Wethermill with a grace and a respect which +condoned his words. "You must bear with me, my young friend, while I +consider all these points. Did she expect to join that night a lover—a +man with the brains to devise this crime? But if so—and here I come to +the second question omitted from M. Ricardo's list—why, on the patch +of grass outside the door of the salon, were the footsteps of the man +and woman so carefully erased, and the footsteps of Mlle. Celie—those +little footsteps so easily identified—left for all the world to see +and recognise?" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo felt like a child in the presence of his schoolmaster. He was +convicted of presumption. He had set down his questions with the belief +that they covered the ground. And here were two of the utmost +importance, not forgotten, but never even thought of. +</P> + +<P> +"Did she go, before the murder, to join a lover? Or after it? At some +time, you will remember, according to Vauquier's story, she must have +run upstairs to fetch her coat. Was the murder committed during the +interval when she was upstairs? Was the salon dark when she came down +again? Did she run through it quickly, eagerly, noticing nothing amiss? +And, indeed, how should she notice anything if the salon were dark, and +Mme. Dauvray's body lay under the windows at the side?" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo leaned forward eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"That must be the truth," he cried; and Wethermill's voice broke +hastily in: +</P> + +<P> +"It is not the truth and I will tell you why. Celia Harland was to have +married me this week." +</P> + +<P> +There was so much pain and misery in his voice that Ricardo was moved +as he had seldom been. Wethermill buried his face in his hands. Hanaud +shook his head and gazed across the table at Ricardo with an expression +which the latter was at no loss to understand. Lovers were +impracticable people. But he—Hanaud—he knew the world. Women had +fooled men before to-day. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill snatched his hands away from before his face. +</P> + +<P> +"We talk theories," he cried desperately, "of what may have happened at +the villa. But we are not by one inch nearer to the man and woman who +committed the crime. It is for them we have to search." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but except by asking ourselves questions, how shall we find them, +M. Wethermill?" said Hanaud. "Take the man! We know nothing of him. He +has left no trace. Look at this town of Aix, where people come and go +like a crowd about the baccarat-table! He may be at Marseilles to-day. +He may be in this very room where we are taking our luncheon. How shall +we find him?" +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill nodded his head in a despairing assent. +</P> + +<P> +"I know. But it is so hard to sit still and do nothing," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but we are not sitting still," said Hanaud; and Wethermill looked +up with a sudden interest. "All the time that we have been lunching +here the intelligent Perrichet has been making inquiries. Mme. Dauvray +and Mlle. Celie left the Villa Rose at five, and returned on foot soon +after nine with the strange woman. And there I see Perrichet himself +waiting to be summoned." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud beckoned towards the sergent-de-ville. +</P> + +<P> +"Perrichet will make an excellent detective," he said; "for he looks +more bovine and foolish in plain clothes than he does in uniform." +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet advanced in his mufti to the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak, my friend," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"I went to the shop of M. Corval. Mlle. Celie was quite alone when she +bought the cord. But a few minutes later, in the Rue du Casino, she and +Mme. Dauvray were seen together, walking slowly in the direction of the +villa. No other woman was with them." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a pity," said Hanaud quietly, and with a gesture he dismissed +Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, we shall find out nothing—nothing," said Wethermill, with a +groan. +</P> + +<P> +"We must not yet lose heart, for we know a little more about the woman +than we do about the man," said Hanaud consolingly. +</P> + +<P> +"True," exclaimed Ricardo. "We have Helene Vauquier's description of +her. We must advertise it." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"But that is a fine suggestion," he cried. "We must think over that," +and he clapped his hand to his forehead with a gesture of +self-reproach. "Why did not such a fine idea occur to me, fool that I +am! However, we will call the head waiter." +</P> + +<P> +The head waiter was sent for and appeared before them. +</P> + +<P> +"You knew Mme. Dauvray?" Hanaud asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur—oh, the poor woman! And he flung up his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"And you knew her young companion?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, monsieur. They generally had their meals here. See, at that +little table over there! I kept it for them. But monsieur knows +well"—and the waiter looked towards Harry Wethermill—"for monsieur +was often with them." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Hanaud. "Did Mme. Dauvray dine at that little table last +night?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur. She was not here last night." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor Mlle. Celie?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur! I do not think they were in the Villa des Fleurs at all." +</P> + +<P> +"We know they were not," exclaimed Ricardo. "Wethermill and I were in +the rooms and we did not see them." +</P> + +<P> +"But perhaps you left early," objected Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Ricardo. "It was just ten o'clock when we reached the +Majestic." +</P> + +<P> +"You reached your hotel at ten," Hanaud repeated. "Did you walk +straight from here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you left here about a quarter to ten. And we know that Mme. +Dauvray was back at the villa soon after nine. Yes—they could not have +been here last night," Hanaud agreed, and sat for a moment silent. Then +he turned to the head waiter. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you noticed any woman with Mme. Dauvray and her companion lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur. I do not think so." +</P> + +<P> +"Think! A woman, for instance, with red hair." +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill started forward. Mr. Ricardo stared at Hanaud in +amazement. The waiter reflected. +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur. I have seen no woman with red hair." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Hanaud, and the waiter moved away. +</P> + +<P> +"A woman with red hair!" cried Wethermill. "But Helene Vauquier +described her. She was sallow; her eyes, her hair, were dark." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned with a smile to Harry Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Did Helene Vauquier, then, speak the truth?" he asked. "No; the woman +who was in the salon last night, who returned home with Mme. Dauvray +and Mlle. Celie, was not a woman with black hair and bright black eyes. +Look!" And, fetching his pocket-book from his pocket, he unfolded a +sheet of paper and showed them, lying upon its white surface a long red +hair. +</P> + +<P> +"I picked that up on the table—the round satinwood table in the salon. +It was easy not to see it, but I did see it. Now, that is not Mlle. +Celie's hair, which is fair; nor Mme. Dauvray's, which is dyed brown; +nor Helene Vauquier's, which is black; nor the charwoman's, which, as I +have taken the trouble to find out, is grey. It is therefore from the +head of our unknown woman. And I will tell you more. This woman with +the red hair—she is in Geneva." +</P> + +<P> +A startled exclamation burst from Ricardo. Harry Wethermill sat slowly +down. For the first time that day there had come some colour into his +cheeks, a sparkle into his eye. +</P> + +<P> +"But that is wonderful!" he cried. "How did you find that out?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud leaned back in his chair and took a pull at his cigar. He was +obviously pleased with Wethermill's admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, how did you find it out?" Ricardo repeated. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"As to that," he said, "remember I am the captain of the ship, and I do +not show you my observation." Ricardo was disappointed. Harry +Wethermill, however, started to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"We must search Geneva, then," he cried. "It is there that we should +be, not here drinking our coffee at the Villa des Fleurs." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud raised his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"The search is not being overlooked. But Geneva is a big city. It is +not easy to search Geneva and find, when we know nothing about the +woman for whom we are searching, except that her hair is red, and that +probably a young girl last night was with her. It is rather here, I +think—in Aix—that we must keep our eyes wide open." +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" cried Wethermill in exasperation. He stared at Hanaud as though +he were mad. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, here; at the post office—at the telephone exchange. Suppose that +the man is in Aix, as he may well be; some time he will wish to send a +letter, or a telegram, or a message over the telephone. That, I tell +you, is our chance. But here is news for us." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud pointed to a messenger who was walking towards them. The man +handed Hanaud an envelope. +</P> + +<P> +"From M. le Commissaire," he said; and he saluted and retired. "From M. +le Commissaire?" cried Ricardo excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +But before Hanaud could open the envelope Harry Wethermill laid a hand +upon his sleeve. +</P> + +<P> +"Before we pass to something new, M. Hanaud," he said, "I should be +very glad if you would tell me what made you shiver in the salon this +morning. It has distressed me ever since. What was it that those two +cushions had to tell you?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a note of anguish in his voice difficult to resist. But +Hanaud resisted it. He shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Again," he said gravely, "I am to remind you that I am captain of the +ship and do not show my observation." +</P> + +<P> +He tore open the envelope and sprang up from his seat. +</P> + +<P> +"Mme. Dauvray's motor-car has been found," he cried. "Let us go!" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud called for the bill and paid it. The three men left the Villa +des Fleurs together. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MME. DAUVRAY'S MOTOR-CAR +</H3> + +<P> +They got into a cab outside the door. Perrichet mounted the box, and +the cab was driven along the upward-winding road past the Hotel +Bernascon. A hundred yards beyond the hotel the cab stopped opposite to +a villa. A hedge separated the garden of the villa from the road, and +above the hedge rose a board with the words "To Let" upon it. At the +gate a gendarme was standing, and just within the gate Ricardo saw +Louis Besnard, the Commissaire, and Servettaz, Mme. Dauvray's chauffeur. +</P> + +<P> +"It is here," said Besnard, as the party descended from the cab, "in +the coach-house of this empty villa." +</P> + +<P> +"Here?" cried Ricardo in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +The discovery upset all his theories. He had expected to hear that it +had been found fifty leagues away; but here, within a couple of miles +of the Villa Rose itself—the idea seemed absurd! Why take it away at +all—unless it was taken away as a blind? That supposition found its +way into Ricardo's mind, and gathered strength as he thought upon it; +for Hanaud had seemed to lean to the belief that one of the murderers +might be still in Aix. Indeed, a glance at him showed that he was not +discomposed by their discovery. +</P> + +<P> +"When was it found?" Hanaud asked. +</P> + +<P> +"This morning. A gardener comes to the villa on two days a week to keep +the grounds in order. Fortunately Wednesday is one of his days. +Fortunately, too, there was rain yesterday evening. He noticed the +tracks of the wheels which you can see on the gravel, and since the +villa is empty he was surprised. He found the coach-house door forced +and the motor-car inside it. When he went to his luncheon he brought +the news of his discovery to the depot." +</P> + +<P> +The party followed the Commissaire along the drive to the coach-house. +</P> + +<P> +"We will have the car brought out," said Hanaud to Servettaz. +</P> + +<P> +It was a big and powerful machine with a limousine body, luxuriously +fitted and cushioned in the shade of light grey. The outside panels of +the car were painted a dark grey. The car had hardly been brought out +into the sunlight before a cry of stupefaction burst from the lips of +Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" he cried, in utter abasement. "I shall never forgive +myself—never, never!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" Hanaud asked, turning sharply as he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet was standing with his round eyes staring and his mouth agape. +</P> + +<P> +"Because, monsieur, I saw that car—at four o'clock this morning—at +the corner of the road—not fifty yards from the Villa Rose." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" cried Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"You saw it!" exclaimed Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Upon their faces was reflected now the stupefaction of Perrichet. +</P> + +<P> +"But you must have made a mistake," said the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "It was that car. It was that +number. It was just after daylight. I was standing outside the gate of +the villa on duty where M. le Commissaire had placed me. The car +appeared at the corner and slackened speed. It seemed to me that it was +going to turn into the road and come down past me. But instead the +driver, as if he were now sure of his way, put the car at its top speed +and went on into Aix." +</P> + +<P> +"Was any one inside the car?" asked Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur; it was empty." +</P> + +<P> +"But you saw the driver!" exclaimed Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; what was he like?" cried the Commissaire. +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet shook his head mournfully. +</P> + +<P> +"He wore a talc mask over the upper part of his face, and had a little +black moustache, and was dressed in a heavy great-coat of blue with a +white collar." +</P> + +<P> +"That is my coat, monsieur," said Servettaz, and as he spoke he lifted +it up from the chauffeur's seat. "It is Mme. Dauvray's livery." +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill groaned aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"We have lost him. He was within our grasp—he, the murderer!—and he +was allowed to go!" +</P> + +<P> +Perrichet's grief was pitiable. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," he pleaded, "a car slackens its speed and goes on again—it +is not so unusual a thing. I did not know the number of Mme. Dauvray's +car. I did not even know that it had disappeared"; and suddenly tears +of mortification filled his eyes. "But why do I make these excuses?" he +cried. "It is better, M. Hanaud, that I go back to my uniform and stand +at the street corner. I am as foolish as I look." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense, my friend," said Hanaud, clapping the disconsolate man upon +the shoulder. "You remembered the car and its number. That is +something—and perhaps a great deal," he added gravely. "As for the +talc mask and the black moustache, that is not much to help us, it is +true." He looked at Ricardo's crestfallen face and smiled. "We might +arrest our good friend M. Ricardo upon that evidence, but no one else +that I know." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud laughed immoderately at his joke. He alone seemed to feel no +disappointment at Perrichet's oversight. Ricardo was a little touchy on +the subject of his personal appearance, and bridled visibly. Hanaud +turned towards Servettaz. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," he said, "you know how much petrol was taken from the garage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you tell me, by the amount which has been used, how far that car +was driven last night?" Hanaud asked. +</P> + +<P> +Servettaz examined the tank. +</P> + +<P> +"A long way, monsieur. From a hundred and thirty to a hundred and fifty +kilometres, I should say." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, just about that distance, I should say," cried Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes brightened, and a smile, a rather fierce smile, came to his +lips. He opened the door, and examined with a minute scrutiny the floor +of the carriage, and as he looked, the smile faded from his face. +Perplexity returned to it. He took the cushions, looked them over and +shook them out. +</P> + +<P> +"I see no sign—" he began, and then he uttered a little shrill cry of +satisfaction. From the crack of the door by the hinge he picked off a +tiny piece of pale green stuff, which he spread out upon the back of +his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, what is this?" he said to Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a green fabric," said Ricardo very wisely. +</P> + +<P> +"It is green chiffon," said Hanaud. "And the frock in which Mlle. Celie +went away was of green chiffon over satin. Yes, Mlle. Celie travelled +in this car." +</P> + +<P> +He hurried to the driver's seat. Upon the floor there was some dark +mould. Hanaud cleaned it off with his knife and held some of it in the +palm of his hand. He turned to Servettaz. +</P> + +<P> +"You drove the car on Tuesday morning before you went to Chambery?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you take up Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. Celie?" +</P> + +<P> +"At the front door of the Villa Rose." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get down from the seat at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, monsieur; not after I left the garage." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud returned to his companions. +</P> + +<P> +"See!" And he opened his hand. "This is black soil—moist from last +night's rain—soil like the soil in front of Mme. Dauvray's salon. +Look, here is even a blade or two of the grass"; and he turned the +mould over in the palm of his hand. Then he took an empty envelope from +his pocket and poured the soil into it and gummed the flap down. He +stood and frowned at the motor-car. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," he said, "how I am puzzled! There was a man last night at the +Villa Rose. There were a man's blurred footmarks in the mould before +the glass door. That man drove madame's car for a hundred and fifty +kilometres, and he leaves the mould which clung to his boots upon the +floor of his seat. Mlle. Celie and another woman drove away inside the +car. Mlle. Celie leaves a fragment of the chiffon tunic of her frock +which caught in the hinge. But Mlle. Celie made much clearer +impressions in the mould than the man. Yet on the floor of the carriage +there is no trace of her shoes. Again I say there is something here +which I do not understand." And he spread out his hands with an +impulsive gesture of despair. +</P> + +<P> +"It looks as if they had been careful and he careless," said Mr. +Ricardo, with the air of a man solving a very difficult problem. +</P> + +<P> +"What a mind!" cried Hanaud, now clasping his hands together in +admiration. "How quick and how profound!" +</P> + +<P> +There was at times something elephantinely elfish in M. Hanaud's +demeanour, which left Mr. Ricardo at a loss. But he had come to notice +that these undignified manifestations usually took place when Hanaud +had reached a definite opinion upon some point which had perplexed him. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet there is perhaps, another explanation," Hanaud continued. "For +observe, M. Ricardo. We have other evidence to show that the careless +one was Mlle. Celie. It was she who left her footsteps so plainly +visible upon the grass, not the man. However, we will go back to M. +Wethermill's room at the Hotel Majestic and talk this matter over. We +know something now. Yes, we know—what do we know, monsieur?" he asked, +suddenly turning with a smile to Ricardo, and, as Ricardo paused: +"Think it over while we walk down to M. Wethermill's apartment in the +Hotel Majestic." +</P> + +<P> +"We know that the murderer has escaped," replied Ricardo hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"The murderer is not now the most important object of our search. He is +very likely at Marseilles by now. We shall lay our hands on him, never +fear," replied Hanaud, with a superb gesture of disdain. "But it was +thoughtful of you to remind me of him. I might so easily have clean +forgotten him, and then indeed my reputation would have suffered an +eclipse." He made a low, ironical bow to Ricardo and walked quickly +down the road. +</P> + +<P> +"For a cumbersome man he is extraordinarily active," said Mr. Ricardo +to Harry Wethermill, trying to laugh, without much success. "A heavy, +clever, middle-aged man, liable to become a little gutter-boy at a +moment's notice." +</P> + +<P> +Thus he described the great detective, and the description is quoted. +For it was Ricardo's best effort in the whole of this business. +</P> + +<P> +The three men went straight to Harry Wethermill's apartment, which +consisted of a sitting-room and a bedroom on the first floor. A balcony +ran along outside. Hanaud stepped out on to it, looked about him, and +returned. +</P> + +<P> +"It is as well to know that we cannot be overheard," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill meanwhile had thrown himself into a chair. The mask he +had worn had slipped from its fastenings for a moment. There was a look +of infinite suffering upon his face. It was the face of a man tortured +by misery to the snapping-point. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud, on the other hand, was particularly alert. The discovery of the +motor-car had raised his spirits. He sat at the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I will tell you what we have learnt," he said, "and it is of +importance. The three of them—the man, the woman with the red hair, +and Mlle. Celie—all drove yesterday night to Geneva. That is only one +thing we have learnt." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you still cling to Geneva?" said Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"More than ever," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +He turned in his chair towards Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my poor friend!" he said, when he saw the young man's distress. +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill sprang up with a gesture as though to sweep the need +of sympathy away. +</P> + +<P> +"What can I do for you?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You have a road map, perhaps?" said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Wethermill, "mine is here. There it is"; and crossing the +room he brought it from a sidetable and placed it in front of Hanaud.</p> + +<p> +Hanaud took a pencil from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"One hundred and fifty kilometres was about the distance which the car +had travelled. Measure the distances here, and you will see that Geneva +is the likely place. It is a good city to hide in. Moreover the car +appears at the corner at daylight. How does it appear there? What road +is it which comes out at that corner? The road from Geneva. I am not +sorry that it is Geneva, for the Chef de la Surete is a friend of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"And what else do we know?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"This," said Hanaud. He paused impressively. "Bring up your chair to +the table, M. Wethermill, and consider whether I am right or wrong"; +and he waited until Harry Wethermill had obeyed. Then he laughed in a +friendly way at himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot help it," he said; "I have an eye for dramatic effects. I +must prepare for them when I know they are coming. And one, I tell you, +is coming now." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his finger at his companions. Ricardo shifted and shuffled in +his chair. Harry Wethermill kept his eyes fixed on Hanaud's face, but +he was quiet, as he had been throughout the long inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud lit a cigarette and took his time. +</P> + +<P> +"What I think is this. The man who drove the car into Geneva drove it +back, because—he meant to leave it again in the garage of the Villa +Rose." +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, flinging himself back. The theory so +calmly enunciated took his breath away. +</P> + +<P> +"Would he have dared?" asked Harry Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud leaned across and tapped his fingers on the table to emphasise +his answer. +</P> + +<P> +"All through this crime there are two things visible—brains and +daring; clever brains and extraordinary daring. Would he have dared? He +dared to be at the corner close to the Villa Rose at daylight. Why else +should he have returned except to put back the car? Consider! The +petrol is taken from tins which Servettaz might never have touched for +a fortnight, and by that time he might, as he said, have forgotten +whether he had not used them himself. I had this possibility in my mind +when I put the questions to Servettaz about the petrol which the +Commissaire thought so stupid. The utmost care is taken that there +shall be no mould left on the floor of the carriage. The scrap of +chiffon was torn off, no doubt, when the women finally left the car, +and therefore not noticed, or that, too, would have been removed. That +the exterior of the car was dirty betrayed nothing, for Servettaz had +left it uncleaned." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud leaned back and, step by step, related the journey of the car. +</P> + +<P> +"The man leaves the gate open; he drives into Geneva the two women, who +are careful that their shoes shall leave no marks upon the floor. At +Geneva they get out. The man returns. If he can only leave the car in +the garage he covers all traces of the course he and his friends have +taken. No one would suspect that the car had ever left the garage. At +the corner of the road, just as he is turning down to the villa, he +sees a sergent-de-ville at the gate. He knows that the murder is +discovered. He puts on full speed and goes straight out of the town. +What is he to do? He is driving a car for which the police in an hour +or two, if not now already, will be surely watching. He is driving it +in broad daylight. He must get rid of it, and at once, before people +are about to see it, and to see him in it. Imagine his feelings! It is +almost enough to make one pity him. Here he is in a car which convicts +him as a murderer, and he has nowhere to leave it. He drives through +Aix. Then on the outskirts of the town he finds an empty villa. He +drives in at the gate, forces the door of the coach-house, and leaves +his car there. Now, observe! It is no longer any use for him to pretend +that he and his friends did not disappear in that car. The murder is +already discovered, and with the murder the disappearance of the car. +So he no longer troubles his head about it. He does not remove the +traces of mould from the place where his feet rested, which otherwise, +no doubt, he would have done. It no longer matters. He has to run to +earth now before he is seen. That is all his business. And so the state +of the car is explained. It was a bold step to bring that car +back—yes, a bold and desperate step. But a clever one. For, if it had +succeeded, we should have known nothing of their movements—oh, but +nothing—nothing. Ah! I tell you this is no ordinary blundering affair. +They are clever people who devised this crime—clever, and of an +audacity which is surprising." +</P> + +<P> +Then Hanaud lit another cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo, on the other hand, could hardly continue to smoke for +excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot understand your calmness," he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"No?" said Hanaud. "Yet it is so obvious. You are the amateur, I am the +professional—that is all." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at his watch and rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"I must go" he said and as he turned towards the door a cry sprang from +Mr. Ricardo's lips "It is true. I am the amateur. Yet I have knowledge, +Monsieur Hanaud which the professional would do well to obtain." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud turned a guarded face towards Ricardo. There was no longer any +raillery in his manner. He spoke slowly, coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me have it then!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have driven in my motor-car from Geneva to Aix," Ricardo cried +excitedly. "A bridge crosses a ravine high up amongst the mountains. At +the bridge there is a Custom House. There—at the Pont de la +Caille—your car is stopped. It is searched. You must sign your name in +a book. And there is no way round. You would find sure and certain +proof whether or no Madame Dauvray's car travelled last night to +Geneva. Not so many travellers pass along that road at night. You would +find certain proof too of how many people were in the car. For they +search carefully at the Pont de la Caille." +</P> + +<P> +A dark flush overspread Hanaud's face. Ricardo was in the seventh +Heaven. He had at last contributed something to the history of this +crime. He had repaired an omission. He had supplied knowledge to the +omniscient. Wethermill looked up drearily like one who has lost heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you must not neglect that clue," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud replied testily: +</P> + +<P> +"It is not a clue. M. Ricardo tells that he travelled from Geneva into +France and that his car was searched. Well, we know already that the +officers are particular at the Custom Houses of France. But travelling +from France into Switzerland is a very different affair. In +Switzerland, hardly a glance, hardly a word." That was true. M. Ricardo +crestfallen recognized the truth. But his spirits rose again at once. +"But the car came back from Geneva into France!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but when the car came back, the man was alone in it," Hanaud +answered. "I have more important things to attend to. For instance I +must know whether by any chance they have caught our man at +Marseilles." He laid his hand on Wethermill's shoulder. "And you, my +friend, I should counsel you to get some sleep. We may need all our +strength to-morrow. I hope so." He was speaking very bravely. "Yes, I +hope so." +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall try," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"That's better," said Hanaud cheerfully. "You will both stay here this +evening; for if I have news, I can then ring you up." +</P> + +<P> +Both men agreed, and Hanaud went away. He left Mr. Ricardo profoundly +disturbed. "That man will take advice from no one," he declared. "His +vanity is colossal. It is true they are not particular at the Swiss +Frontier. Still the car would have to stop there. At the Custom House +they would know something. Hanaud ought to make inquiries." But neither +Ricardo nor Harry Wethermill heard a word more from Hanaud that night. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NEWS FROM GENEVA +</H3> + +<P> +The next morning, however, before Mr. Ricardo was out of his bed, M. +Hanaud was announced. He came stepping gaily into the room, more +elephantinely elfish than ever. +</P> + +<P> +"Send your valet away," he said. And as soon as they were alone he +produced a newspaper, which he flourished in Mr. Ricardo's face and +then dropped into his hands. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo saw staring him in the face a full description of Celia +Harland, of her appearance and her dress, of everything except her +name, coupled with an intimation that a reward of four thousand francs +would be paid to any one who could give information leading to the +discovery of her whereabouts to Mr. Ricardo, the Hotel Majestic, +Aix-les-Bains! +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo sat up in his bed with a sense of outrage. +</P> + +<P> +"You have done this?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Why have you done it?" Mr. Ricardo cried. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud advanced to the bed mysteriously on the tips of his toes. +</P> + +<P> +"I will tell you," he said, in his most confidential tones. "Only it +must remain a secret between you and me. I did it—because I have a +sense of humour." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate publicity," said Mr. Ricardo acidly. +</P> + +<P> +"On the other hand you have four thousand francs," protested the +detective. "Besides, what else should I do? If I name myself, the very +people we are seeking to catch—who, you may be sure, will be the first +to read this advertisement—will know that I, the great, the +incomparable Hanaud, am after them; and I do not want them to know +that. Besides"—and he spoke now in a gentle and most serious +voice—"why should we make life more difficult for Mlle. Celie by +telling the world that the police want her? It will be time enough for +that when she appears before the Juge d'Instruction." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo grumbled inarticulately, and read through the advertisement +again. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, your description is incomplete," he said. "There is no +mention of the diamond earrings which Celia Harland was wearing when +she went away." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! so you noticed that!" exclaimed Hanaud. "A little more experience +and I should be looking very closely to my laurels. But as for the +earrings—I will tell you. Mlle. Celie was not wearing them when she +went away from the Villa Rose." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but," stammered Ricardo, "the case upon the dressing-room table +was empty." +</P> + +<P> +"Still, she was not wearing them, I know," said Hanaud decisively. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" cried Ricardo, gazing at Hanaud with awe in his +eyes. "How could you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because"—and Hanaud struck a majestic attitude, like a king in a +play—"because I am the captain of the ship." +</P> + +<P> +Upon that Mr. Ricardo suffered a return of his ill-humour. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not like to be trifled with," he remarked, with as much dignity +as his ruffled hair and the bed-clothes allowed him. He looked sternly +at the newspaper, turning it over, and then he uttered a cry of +surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"But this is yesterday's paper!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yesterday evening's paper," Hanaud corrected. +</P> + +<P> +"Printed at Geneva!" +</P> + +<P> +"Printed, and published and sold at Geneva," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"When did you send the advertisement in, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wrote a letter while we were taking our luncheon," Hanaud explained. +"The letter was to Besnard, asking him to telegraph the advertisement +at once." +</P> + +<P> +"But you never said a word about it to us," Ricardo grumbled. +</P> + +<P> +"No. And was I not wise?" said Hanaud, with complacency. "For you would +have forbidden me to use your name." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't go so far as that," said Ricardo reluctantly. His +indignation was rapidly evaporating. For there was growing up in his +mind a pleasant perception that the advertisement placed him in the +limelight. +</P> + +<P> +He rose from his bed. +</P> + +<P> +"You will make yourself comfortable in the sitting-room while I have my +bath." +</P> + +<P> +"I will, indeed," replied Hanaud cheerily. "I have already ordered my +morning chocolate. I have hopes that you may have a telegram very soon. +This paper was cried last night through the streets of Geneva." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo dressed for once in a way with some approach to ordinary +celerity, and joined Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Has nothing come?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No. This chocolate is very good; it is better than that which I get in +my hotel." +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, who was fairly twittering with +excitement. "You sit there talking about chocolate while my cup shakes +in my fingers." +</P> + +<P> +"Again I must remind you that you are the amateur, I the professional, +my friend." +</P> + +<P> +As the morning drew on, however, Hanaud's professional quietude +deserted him. He began to start at the sound of footsteps in the +corridor, to glance every other moment from the window, to eat his +cigarettes rather than to smoke them. At eleven o'clock Ricardo's valet +brought a telegram into the room. Ricardo seized it. +</P> + +<P> +"Calmly, my friend," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +With trembling fingers Ricardo tore it open. He jumped in his chair. +Speechless, he handed the telegram to Hanaud. It had been sent from +Geneva, and it ran thus: +</P> + +<P> +"Expect me soon after three.—MARTHE GOBIN." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you I had hopes." All his levity had gone in an instant from +his manner. He spoke very quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"I had better send for Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"As you like. But why raise hopes in that poor man's breast which an +hour or two may dash for ever to the ground? Consider! Marthe Gobin has +something to tell us. Think over those eight points of evidence which +you drew up yesterday in the Villa des Fleurs, and say whether what she +has to tell us is more likely to prove Mlle. Celie's innocence than her +guilt. Think well, for I will be guided by you, M. Ricardo," said +Hanaud solemnly. "If you think it better that your friend should live +in torture until Marthe Gobin comes, and then perhaps suffer worse +torture from the news she brings, be it so. You shall decide. If, on +the other hand, you think it will be best to leave M. Wethermill in +peace until we know her story, be it so. You shall decide." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo moved uneasily. The solemnity of Hanaud's manner impressed him. +He had no wish to take the responsibility of the decision upon himself. +But Hanaud sat with his eyes strangely fixed upon Ricardo, waiting for +his answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Ricardo, at length, "good news will be none the worse for +waiting a few hours. Bad news will be a little the better." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Hanaud; "so I thought you would decide." He took up a +Continental Bradshaw from a bookshelf in the room. "From Geneva she +will come through Culoz. Let us see!" He turned over the pages. "There +is a train from Culoz which reaches Aix at seven minutes past three. It +is by that train she will come. You have a motor-car?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Will you pick me up in it at three at my hotel? We will +drive down to the station and see the arrivals by that train. It may +help us to get some idea of the person with whom we have to deal. That +is always an advantage. Now I will leave you, for I have much to do. +But I will look in upon M. Wethermill as I go down and tell him that +there is as yet no news." +</P> + +<P> +He took up his hat and stick, and stood for a moment staring out of the +window. Then he roused himself from his reverie with a start. +</P> + +<P> +"You look out upon Mont Revard, I see. I think M. Wethermill's view +over the garden and the town is the better one," he said, and went out +of the room. +</P> + +<P> +At three o'clock Ricardo called in his car, which was an open car of +high power, at Hanaud's hotel, and the two men went to the station. +They waited outside the exit while the passengers gave up their +tickets. Amongst them a middle-aged, short woman, of a plethoric +tendency, attracted their notice. She was neatly but shabbily dressed +in black; her gloves were darned, and she was obviously in a hurry. As +she came out she asked a commissionaire: +</P> + +<P> +"How far is it to the Hotel Majestic?" +</P> + +<P> +The man told her the hotel was at the very top of the town, and the way +was steep. +</P> + +<P> +"But madame can go up in the omnibus of the hotel," he suggested.</p> + +<p> +Madame, however, was in too much of a hurry. The omnibus would have to +wait for luggage. She hailed a closed cab and drove off inside it. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, if we go back in the car, we shall be all ready for her when she +arrives," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +They passed the cab, indeed, a few yards up the steep hill which leads +from the station. The cab was moving at a walk. +</P> + +<P> +"She looks honest," said Hanaud, with a sigh of relief. "She is some +good bourgeoise anxious to earn four thousand francs." +</P> + +<P> +They reached the hotel in a few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"We may need your car again the moment Marthe Gobin has gone," said +Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"It shall wait here," said Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Hanaud; "let it wait in the little street at the back of my +hotel. It will not be so noticeable there. You have petrol for a long +journey?" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo gave the order quietly to his chauffeur, and followed Hanaud +into the hotel. Through a glass window they could see Wethermill +smoking a cigar over his coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"He looks as if he had not slept," said Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded sympathetically, and beckoned Ricardo past the window. +</P> + +<P> +"But we are nearing the end. These two days have been for him days of +great trouble; one can see that very clearly. And he has done nothing +to embarrass us. Men in distress are apt to be a nuisance. I am +grateful to M. Wethermill. But we are nearing the end. Who knows? +Within an hour or two we may have news for him." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke with great feeling, and the two men ascended the stairs to +Ricardo's rooms. For the second time that day Hanaud's professional +calm deserted him. The window overlooked the main entrance to the +hotel. Hanaud arranged the room, and, even while he arranged it, ran +every other second and leaned from the window to watch for the coming +of the cab. +</P> + +<P> +"Put the bank-notes upon the table," he said hurriedly. "They will +persuade her to tell us all that she has to tell. Yes, that will do. +She is not in sight yet? No." +</P> + +<P> +"She could not be. It is a long way from the station," said Ricardo, +"and the whole distance is uphill." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that is true," Hanaud replied. "We will not embarrass her by +sitting round the table like a tribunal. You will sit in that +arm-chair." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo took his seat, crossed his knees, and joined the tips of his +fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"So! not too judicial!" said Hanaud; "I will sit here at the table. +Whatever you do, do not frighten her." Hanaud sat down in the chair +which he had placed for himself. "Marthe Gobin shall sit opposite, with +the light upon her face. So!" And, springing up, he arranged a chair +for her. "Whatever you do, do not frighten her," he repeated. "I am +nervous. So much depends upon this interview." And in a second he was +back at the window. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo did not move. He arranged in his mind the interrogatory which +was to take place. He was to conduct it. He was the master of the +situation. All the limelight was to be his. Startling facts would come +to light elicited by his deft questions. Hanaud need not fear. He would +not frighten her. He would be gentle, he would be cunning. Softly and +delicately he would turn this good woman inside out, like a glove. +Every artistic fibre in his body vibrated to the dramatic situation. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Hanaud leaned out of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"It comes! it comes!" he said in a quick, feverish whisper. "I can see +the cab between the shrubs of the drive." +</P> + +<P> +"Let it come!" said Mr. Ricardo superbly. +</P> + +<P> +Even as he sat he could hear the grating of wheels upon the drive. He +saw Hanaud lean farther from the window and stamp impatiently upon the +floor. +</P> + +<P> +"There it is at the door," he said; and for a few seconds he spoke no +more. He stood looking downwards, craning his head, with his back +towards Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +Then, with a wild and startled cry, he staggered back into the room. +His face was white as wax, his eyes full of horror, his mouth open. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" exclaimed Ricardo, springing to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"They are lifting her out! She doesn't move! They are lifting her out!" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he stared into Ricardo's face—paralysed by fear. Then he +sprang down the stairs. Ricardo followed him. +</P> + +<P> +There was confusion in the corridor. Men were running, voices were +crying questions. As they passed the window they saw Wethermill start +up, aroused from his lethargy. They knew the truth before they reached +the entrance of the hotel. A cab had driven up to the door from the +station; in the cab was an unknown woman stabbed to the heart. +</P> + +<P> +"She should have come by the omnibus," Hanaud repeated and repeated +stupidly. For the moment he was off his balance. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE UNOPENED LETTER +</H3> + +<P> +The hall of the hotel had been cleared of people. At the entrance from +the corridor a porter barred the way. +</P> + +<P> +"No one can pass," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"I think that I can," said Hanaud, and he produced his card. "From the +Surete at Paris." +</P> + +<P> +He was allowed to enter, with Ricardo at his heels. On the ground lay +Marthe Gobin; the manager of the hotel stood at her side; a doctor was +on his knees. Hanaud gave his card to the manager. +</P> + +<P> +"You have sent word to the police?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said the manager. +</P> + +<P> +"And the wound?" asked Hanaud, kneeling on the ground beside the +doctor. It was a very small wound, round and neat and clean, and there +was very little blood. "It was made by a bullet," said Hanaud—"some +tiny bullet from an air-pistol." +</P> + +<P> +"No," answered the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"No knife made it," Hanaud asserted. +</P> + +<P> +"That is true," said the doctor. "Look!" and he took up from the floor +by his knee the weapon which had caused Marthe Gobin's death. It was +nothing but an ordinary skewer with a ring at one end and a sharp point +at the other, and a piece of common white firewood for a handle. The +wood had been split, the ring inserted and spliced in position with +strong twine. It was a rough enough weapon, but an effective one. The +proof of its effectiveness lay stretched upon the floor beside them. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud gave it to the manager of the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be very careful of this, and give it as it is to the police." +</P> + +<P> +Then he bent once more over Marthe Gobin. +</P> + +<P> +"Did she suffer?" he asked in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +"No; death must have been instantaneous," said the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad of that," said Hanaud, as he rose again to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +In the doorway the driver of the cab was standing. +</P> + +<P> +"What has he to say?" Hanaud asked. +</P> + +<P> +The man stepped forward instantly. He was an old, red-faced, stout man, +with a shiny white tall hat, like a thousand drivers of cabs. +</P> + +<P> +"What have I to say, monsieur?" he grumbled in a husky voice. "I take +up the poor woman at the station and I drive her where she bids me, and +I find her dead, and my day is lost. Who will pay my fare, monsieur?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will," said Hanaud. "There it is," and he handed the man a +five-franc piece. "Now, answer me! Do you tell me that this woman was +murdered in your cab and that you knew nothing about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But what should I know? I take her up at the station, and all the way +up the hill her head is every moment out of the window, crying, +'Faster, faster!' Oh, the good woman was in a hurry! But for me I take +no notice. The more she shouts, the less I hear; I bury my head between +my shoulders, and I look ahead of me and I take no notice. One cannot +expect cab-horses to run up these hills; it is not reasonable."</p> + +<p>"So you +went at a walk," said Hanaud. He beckoned to Ricardo, and said to the +manager: "M. Besnard will, no doubt, be here in a few minutes, and he +will send for the Juge d'Instruction. There is nothing that we can do." +</P> + +<P> +He went back to Ricardo's sitting-room and flung himself into a chair. +He had been calm enough downstairs in the presence of the doctor and +the body of the victim. Now, with only Ricardo for a witness, he gave +way to distress. +</P> + +<P> +"It is terrible," he said. "The poor woman! It was I who brought her to +Aix. It was through my carelessness. But who would have thought—?" He +snatched his hands from his face and stood up. "I should have thought," +he said solemnly. "Extraordinary daring—that was one of the qualities +of my criminal. I knew it, and I disregarded it. Now we have a second +crime." +</P> + +<P> +"The skewer may lead you to the criminal," said Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"The skewer!" cried Hanaud. "How will that help us? A knife, +yes—perhaps. But a skewer!" +</P> + +<P> +"At the shops—there will not be so many in Aix at which you can buy +skewers—they may remember to whom they sold one within the last day or +so." +</P> + +<P> +"How do we know it was bought in the last day or so?" cried Hanaud +scornfully. "We have not to do with a man who walks into a shop and +buys a single skewer to commit a murder with, and so hands himself over +to the police. How often must I say it!" +</P> + +<P> +The violence of his contempt nettled Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"If the murderer did not buy it, how did he obtain it?" he asked +obstinately. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my friend, could he not have stolen it? From this or from any +hotel in Aix? Would the loss of a skewer be noticed, do you think? How +many people in Aix to-day have had rognons a la brochette for their +luncheon! Besides, it is not merely the death of this poor woman which +troubles me. We have lost the evidence which she was going to bring to +us. She had something to tell us about Celie Harland which now we shall +never hear. We have to begin all over again, and I tell you we have not +the time to begin all over again. No, we have not the time. Time will +be lost, and we have no time to lose." He buried his face again in his +hands and groaned aloud. His grief was so violent and so sincere that +Ricardo, shocked as he was by the murder of Marthe Gobin, set himself +to console him. +</P> + +<P> +"But you could not have foreseen that at three o'clock in the afternoon +at Aix—" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud brushed the excuse aside. +</P> + +<P> +"It is no extenuation. I OUGHT to have foreseen. Oh, but I will have no +pity now," he cried, and as he ended the words abruptly his face +changed. He lifted a trembling forefinger and pointed. There came a +sudden look of life into his dull and despairing eyes. +</P> + +<P> +He was pointing to a side-table on which were piled Mr. Ricardo's +letters. +</P> + +<P> +"You have not opened them this morning?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No. You came while I was still in bed. I have not thought of them till +now." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud crossed to the table, and, looking down at the letters, uttered +a cry. +</P> + +<P> +"There's one, the big envelope," he said, his voice shaking like his +hand. "It has a Swiss stamp." +</P> + +<P> +He swallowed to moisten his throat. Ricardo sprang across the room and +tore open the envelope. There was a long letter enclosed in a +handwriting unknown to him. He read aloud the first lines of the letter: +</P> + +<P> +"I write what I saw and post it to-night, so that no one may be before +me with the news. I will come over to-morrow for the money." +</P> + +<P> +A low exclamation from Hanaud interrupted the words. +</P> + +<P> +"The signature! Quick!" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo turned to the end of the letter. +</P> + +<P> +"Marthe Gobin." +</P> + +<P> +"She speaks, then! After all she speaks!" Hanaud whispered in a voice +of awe. He ran to the door of the room, opened it suddenly, and, +shutting it again, locked it. "Quick! We cannot bring that poor woman +back to life; but we may still—" He did not finish his sentence. He +took the letter unceremoniously from Ricardo's hand and seated himself +at the table. Over his shoulder Mr. Ricardo, too, read Marthe Gobin's +letter. +</P> + +<P> +It was just the sort of letter, which in Ricardo's view, Marthe Gobin +would have written—a long, straggling letter which never kept to the +point, which exasperated them one moment by its folly and fired them to +excitement the next. +</P> + +<P> +It was dated from a small suburb of Geneva, on the western side of the +lake, and it ran as follows: +</P> + +<P> +"The suburb is but a street close to the lake-side, and a tram runs +into the city. It is quite respectable, you understand, monsieur, with +a hotel at the end of it, and really some very good houses. But I do +not wish to deceive you about the social position of myself or my +husband. Our house is on the wrong side of the street—definitely—yes. +It is a small house, and we do not see the water from any of the +windows because of the better houses opposite. M. Gobin, my husband, +who was a clerk in one of the great banks in Geneva, broke down in +health in the spring, and for the last three months has been compelled +to keep indoors. Of course, money has not been plentiful, and I could +not afford a nurse. Consequently I myself have been compelled to nurse +him. Monsieur, if you were a woman, you would know what men are when +they are ill—how fretful, how difficult. There is not much distraction +for the woman who nurses them. So, as I am in the house most of the +day, I find what amusement I can in watching the doings of my +neighbours. You will not blame me. +</P> + +<P> +"A month ago the house almost directly opposite to us was taken +furnished for the summer by a Mme. Rossignol. She is a widow, but +during the last fortnight a young gentleman has come several times in +the afternoon to see her, and it is said in the street that he is going +to marry her. But I cannot believe it myself. Monsieur is a young man +of perhaps thirty, with smooth, black hair. He wears a moustache, a +little black moustache, and is altogether captivating. Mme. Rossignol +is five or six years older, I should think—a tall woman, with red hair +and a bold sort of coarse beauty. I was not attracted by her. She +seemed not quite of the same world as that charming monsieur who was +said to be going to marry her. No; I was not attracted by Adele +Rossignol." +</P> + +<P> +And when he had come to that point Hanaud looked up with a start. +</P> + +<P> +"So the name was Adele," he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier spoke the truth." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded with a queer smile upon his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there she spoke the truth. I thought she did." +</P> + +<P> +"But she said Adele's hair was black," interposed Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there she didn't," said Hanaud drily, and his eyes dropped again +to the paper. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew her name was Adele, for often I have heard her servant calling +her so, and without any 'Madame' in front of the name. That is strange, +is it not, to hear an elderly servant-woman calling after her mistress, +'Adele,' just simple 'Adele'? It was that which made me think monsieur +and madame were not of the same world. But I do not believe that they +are going to be married. I have an instinct about it. Of course, one +never knows with what extraordinary women the nicest men will fall in +love. So that after all these two may get married. But if they do, I do +not think they will be happy. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides the old woman there was another servant, a man, Hippolyte, who +served in the house and drove the carriage when it was wanted—a +respectable man. He always touched his hat when Mme. Rossignol came out +of the house. He slept in the house at night, although the stable was +at the end of the street. I thought he was probably the son of Jeanne, +the servant-woman. He was young, and his hair was plastered down upon +his forehead, and he was altogether satisfied with himself and a great +favorite amongst the servants in the street. The carriage and the horse +were hired from Geneva. That is the household of Mme. Rossignol." +</P> + +<P> +So far, Mr. Ricardo read in silence. Then he broke out again. +</P> + +<P> +"But we have them! The red-haired woman called Adele; the man with the +little black moustache. It was he who drove the motor-car!" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud held up his hand to check the flow of words, and both read on +again: +</P> + +<P> +"At three o'clock on Tuesday afternoon madame was driven away in the +carriage, and I did not see it return all that evening. Of course, it +may have returned to the stables by another road. But it was not +unusual for the carriage to take her into Geneva and wait a long time. +I went to bed at eleven, but in the night M. Gobin was restless, and I +rose to get him some medicine. We slept in the front of the house, +monsieur, and while I was searching for the matches upon the table in +the middle of the room I heard the sound of carriage wheels in the +silent street. I went to the window, and, raising a corner of the +curtains, looked out. M. Gobin called to me fretfully from the bed to +know why I did not light the candle and get him what he wanted. I have +already told you how fretful sick men can be, always complaining if +just for a minute one distracts oneself by looking out of the window. +But there! One can do nothing to please them. Yet how right I was to +raise the blind and look out of the window! For if I had obeyed my +husband I might have lost four thousand francs. And four thousand +francs are not to be sneezed at by a poor woman whose husband lies in +bed. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw the carriage stop at Mme. Rossignol's house. Almost at once the +house door was opened by the old servant, although the hall of the +house and all the windows in the front were dark. That was the first +thing that surprised me. For when madame came home late and the house +was dark, she used to let herself in with a latchkey. Now, in the dark +house, in the early morning, a servant was watching for them. It was +strange. +</P> + +<P> +"As soon as the door of the house was opened the door of the carriage +opened too, and a young lady stepped quickly out on to the pavement. +The train of her dress caught in the door, and she turned round, +stooped, freed it with her hand, and held it up off the ground. The +night was clear, and there was a lamp in the street close by the door +of Mme. Rossignol's house. As she turned I saw her face under the big +green hat. It was very pretty and young, and the hair was fair. She +wore a white coat, but it was open in front and showed her evening +frock of pale green. When she lifted her skirt I saw the buckles +sparkling on her satin shoes. It was the young lady for whom you are +advertising, I am sure. She remained standing just for a moment without +moving, while Mme. Rossignol got out. I was surprised to see a young +lady of such distinction in Mme. Rossignol's company. Then, still +holding her skirt up, she ran very lightly and quickly across the +pavement into the dark house. I thought, monsieur, that she was very +anxious not to be seen. So when I saw your advertisement I was certain +that this was the young lady for whom you are searching. +</P> + +<P> +"I waited for a few moments and saw the carriage drive off towards the +stable at the end of the street. But no light went up in any of the +rooms in front of the house. And M. Gobin was so fretful that I dropped +the corner of the blind, lit the candle, and gave him his cooling +drink. His watch was on the table at the bedside, and I saw that it was +five minutes to three. I will send you a telegram to-morrow, as soon as +I am sure at what hour I can leave my husband. Accept, monsieur, I beg +you, my most distinguished salutations. +</P> + +<P> +"MARTHE GOBIN." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud leant back with an extraordinary look of perplexity upon his +face. But to Ricardo the whole story was now clear. Here was an +independent witness, without the jealousy or rancours of Helene +Vauquier. Nothing could be more damning than her statement; it +corroborated those footmarks upon the soil in front of the glass door +of the salon. There was nothing to be done except to set about +arresting Mlle. Celie at once. +</P> + +<P> +"The facts work with your theory, M. Hanaud. The young man with the +black moustache did not return to the house at Geneva. For somewhere +upon the road close to Geneva he met the carriage. He was driving back +the car to Aix—" And then another thought struck him: "But no!" he +cried. "We are altogether wrong. See! They did not reach home until +five minutes to three." +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes to three! But this demolished the whole of Hanaud's theory +about the motor-car. The murderers had left the villa between eleven +and twelve, probably before half-past eleven. The car was a machine of +sixty horse-power, and the roads were certain to be clear. Yet the +travellers only reached their home at three. Moreover, the car was back +in Aix at four. It was evident they did not travel by the car. +</P> + +<P> +"Geneva time is an hour later than French time," said Hanaud shortly. +It seemed as if the corroboration of this letter disappointed him. "A +quarter to three in Mme. Gobin's house would be a quarter to two by our +watches here." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud folded up the letter, and rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"We will go now, and we will take this letter with us." Hanaud looked +about the room, and picked up a glove lying upon a table. "I left this +behind me," he said, putting it into his pocket. "By the way, where is +the telegram from Marthe Gobin?" +</P> + +<P> +"You put it in your letter-case." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, did I?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud took out his letter-case and found the telegram within it. His +face lightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" he said emphatically. "For, since we have this telegram, there +must have been another message sent from Adele Rossignol to Aix saying +that Marthe Gobin, that busybody, that inquisitive neighbour, who had +no doubt seen M. Ricardo's advertisement, was on her way hither. Oh it +will not be put as crudely as that, but that is what the message will +mean. We shall have him." And suddenly his face grew very stern. "I +MUST catch him, for Marthe Gobin's death I cannot forgive. A poor woman +meaning no harm, and murdered like a sheep under our noses. No, that I +cannot forgive." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo wondered whether it was the actual murder of Marthe Gobin or +the fact that he had been beaten and outwitted which Hanaud could not +forgive. But discretion kept him silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us go," said Hanaud. "By the lift, if you please; it will save +time." +</P> + +<P> +They descended into the hall close by the main door. The body of Marthe +Gobin had been removed to the mortuary of the town. The life of the +hotel had resumed its course. +</P> + +<P> +"M. Besnard has gone, I suppose?" Hanaud asked of the porter; and, +receiving an assent, he walked quickly out of the front door. +</P> + +<P> +"But there is a shorter way," said Ricardo, running after him: "across +the garden at the back and down the steps." +</P> + +<P> +"It will make no difference now," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +They hurried along the drive and down the road which circled round the +hotel and dipped to the town. +</P> + +<P> +Behind Hanaud's hotel Ricardo's car was waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"We must go first to Besnard's office. The poor man will be at his +wits' end to know who was Mme. Gobin and what brought her to Aix. +Besides, I wish to send a message over the telephone." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud descended and spent a quarter of an hour with the Commissaire. +As he came out he looked at his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall be in time, I think," he said. He climbed into the car. "The +murder of Marthe Gobin on her way from the station will put our friends +at their ease. It will be published, no doubt, in the evening papers, +and those good people over there in Geneva will read it with amusement. +They do not know that Marthe Gobin wrote a letter yesterday night. +Come, let us go!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where to?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Where to?" exclaimed Hanaud. "Why, of course, to Geneva." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ALUMINIUM FLASK +</H3> + +<P> +"I have telephoned to Lemerre, the Chef de la Surete at Geneva," said +Hanaud, as the car sped out of Aix along the road to Annecy. "He will +have the house watched. We shall be in time. They will do nothing until +dark." +</P> + +<P> +But though he spoke confidently there was a note of anxiety in his +voice, and he sat forward in the car, as though he were already +straining his eyes to see Geneva. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo was a trifle disappointed. They were on the great journey to +Geneva. They were going to arrest Mlle. Celie and her accomplices. And +Hanaud had not come disguised. Hanaud, in Ricardo's eyes, was hardly +living up to the dramatic expedition on which they had set out. It +seemed to him that there was something incorrect in the great detective +coming out on the chase without a false beard. +</P> + +<P> +"But, my dear friend, why shouldn't I?" pleaded Hanaud. "We are going +to dine together at the Restaurant du Nord, over the lake, until it +grows dark. It is not pleasant to eat one's soup in a false beard. Have +you tried it? Besides, everybody stares so, seeing perfectly well that +it is false. Now, I do not want to-night that people should know me for +a detective; so I do not go disguised." +</P> + +<P> +"Humorist!" said Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"There! you have found me out!" cried Hanaud, in mock alarm. "Besides, +I told you this morning that that is precisely what I am." +</P> + +<P> +Beyond Annecy, they came to the bridge over the ravine. At the far end +of it, the car stopped. A question, a hurried glance into the body of +the car, and the officers of the Customs stood aside. +</P> + +<P> +"You see how perfunctory it is," said Hanaud and with a jerk the car +moved on. The jerk threw Hanaud against Mr. Ricardo. Something hard in +the detective's pocket knocked against his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"You have got them?" he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"The handcuffs." +</P> + +<P> +Another disappointment awaited Ricardo. A detective without a false +beard was bad enough, but that was nothing to a detective without +handcuffs. The paraphernalia of justice were sadly lacking. However, +Hanaud consoled Mr. Ricardo by showing him the hard thing; it was +almost as thrilling as the handcuffs, for it was a loaded revolver. +</P> + +<P> +"There will be danger, then?" said Ricardo, with a tremor of +excitement. "I should have brought mine." +</P> + +<P> +"There would have been danger, my friend," Hanaud objected gravely, "if +you had brought yours." +</P> + +<P> +They reached Geneva as the dusk was falling, and drove straight to the +restaurant by the side of the lake and mounted to the balcony on the +first floor. A small, stout man sat at a table alone in a corner of the +balcony. He rose and held out his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend, M. Lemerre, the Chef de la Surete of Geneva," said Hanaud, +presenting the little man to his companion. +</P> + +<P> +There were as yet only two couples dining in the restaurant, and Hanaud +spoke so that neither could overhear him. He sat down at the table. +</P> + +<P> +"What news?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"None," said Lemerre. "No one has come out of the house, no one has +gone in." +</P> + +<P> +"And if anything happens while we dine?" +</P> + +<P> +"We shall know," said Lemerre. "Look, there is a man loitering under +the trees there. He will strike a match to light his pipe." +</P> + +<P> +The hurried conversation was ended. +</P> + +<P> +"Good," said Hanaud. "We will dine, then, and be gay." +</P> + +<P> +He called to the waiter and ordered dinner. It was after seven when +they sat down to dinner, and they dined while the dusk deepened. In the +street below the lights flashed out, throwing a sheen on the foliage of +the trees at the water's side. Upon the dark lake the reflections of +lamps rippled and shook. A boat in which musicians sang to music, +passed by with a cool splash of oars. The green and red lights of the +launches glided backwards and forwards. Hanaud alone of the party on +the balcony tried to keep the conversation upon a light and general +level. But it was plain that even he was overdoing his gaiety. There +were moments when a sudden contraction of the muscles would clench his +hands and give a spasmodic jerk to his shoulders. He was waiting +uneasily, uncomfortably, until darkness should come. +</P> + +<P> +"Eat," he cried—"eat, my friends," playing with his own barely tasted +food. +</P> + +<P> +And then, at a sentence from Lemerre, his knife and fork clattered on +his plate, and he sat with a face suddenly grown white. +</P> + +<P> +For Lemerre said, as though it was no more than a matter of ordinary +comment: +</P> + +<P> +"So Mme. Dauvray's jewels were, after all, never stolen?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud started. +</P> + +<P> +"You know that? How did you know it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was in this evening's paper. I bought one on the way here. They +were found under the floor of the bedroom." +</P> + +<P> +And even as he spoke a newsboy's voice rang out in the street below +them. Lemerre was alarmed by the look upon his friend's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Does it matter, Hanaud?" he asked, with some solicitude. +</P> + +<P> +"It matters—" and Hanaud rose up abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +The boy's voice sounded louder in the street below. The words became +distinct to all upon that balcony. +</P> + +<P> +"The Aix murder! Discovery of the jewels!" +</P> + +<P> +"We must go," Hanaud whispered hoarsely. "Here are life and death in +the balance, as I believe, and there"—he pointed down to the little +group gathering about the newsboy under the trees—"there is the +command which way to tip the scales." +</P> + +<P> +"It was not I who sent it," said Ricardo eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +He had no precise idea what Hanaud meant by his words; but he realised +that the sooner he exculpated himself from the charge the better. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it was not you. I know that very well," said Hanaud. He +called for the bill. "When is that paper published?" +</P> + +<P> +"At seven," said Lemerre. +</P> + +<P> +"They have been crying it in the streets of Geneva, then, for more than +half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +He sat drumming impatiently upon the table until the bill should be +brought. +</P> + +<P> +"By Heaven, that's clever!" he muttered savagely. "There's a man who +gets ahead of me at every turn. See, Lemerre, I take every care, every +precaution, that no message shall be sent. I let it be known, I take +careful pains to let it be known, that no message can be sent without +detection following, and here's the message sent by the one channel I +never thought to guard against and stop. Look!" +</P> + +<P> +The murder at the Villa Rose and the mystery which hid its perpetration +had aroused interest. This new development had quickened it. From the +balcony Hanaud could see the groups thickening about the boy and the +white sheets of the newspapers in the hands of passers-by. +</P> + +<P> +"Every one in Geneva or near Geneva will know of this message by now." +</P> + +<P> +"Who could have told?" asked Ricardo blankly, and Hanaud laughed in his +face, but laughed without any merriment. +</P> + +<P> +"At last!" he cried, as the waiter brought the bill, and just as he had +paid it the light of a match flared up under the trees. +</P> + +<P> +"The signal!" said Lemerre. +</P> + +<P> +"Not too quickly," whispered Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +With as much unconcern as each could counterfeit, the three men +descended the stairs and crossed the road. Under the trees a fourth man +joined them—he who had lighted his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"The coachman, Hippolyte," he whispered, "bought an evening paper at +the front door of the house from a boy who came down the street +shouting the news. The coachman ran back into the house." +</P> + +<P> +"When was this?" asked Lemerre. +</P> + +<P> +The man pointed to a lad who leaned against the balustrade above the +lake, hot and panting for breath. +</P> + +<P> +"He came on his bicycle. He has just arrived." +</P> + +<P> +"Follow me," said Lemerre. +</P> + +<P> +Six yards from where they stood a couple of steps led down from the +embankment on to a wooden landing-stage, where boats were moored. +Lemerre, followed by the others, walked briskly down on to the +landing-stage. An electric launch was waiting. It had an awning and was +of the usual type which one hires at Geneva. There were two sergeants +in plain clothes on board, and a third man, whom Ricardo recognised. +</P> + +<P> +"That is the man who found out in whose shop the cord was bought," he +said to Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it is Durette. He has been here since yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +Lemerre and the three who followed him stepped into it, and it backed +away from the stage and, turning, sped swiftly outwards from Geneva. +The gay lights of the shops and the restaurants were left behind, the +cool darkness enveloped them; a light breeze blew over the lake, a +trail of white and tumbled water lengthened out behind and overhead, in +a sky of deepest blue, the bright stars shone like gold. +</P> + +<P> +"If only we are in time!" said Hanaud, catching his breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered Lemerre; and in both their voices there was a strange +note of gravity. +</P> + +<P> +Lemerre gave a signal after a while, and the boat turned to the shore +and reduced its speed. They had passed the big villas. On the bank the +gardens of houses—narrow, long gardens of a street of small +houses—reached down to the lake, and to almost each garden there was a +rickety landing-stage of wood projecting into the lake. Again Lemerre +gave a signal, and the boat's speed was so much reduced that not a +sound of its coming could be heard. It moved over the water like a +shadow, with not so much as a curl of white at its bows. +</P> + +<P> +Lemerre touched Hanaud on the shoulder and pointed to a house in a row +of houses. All the windows except two upon the second floor and one +upon the ground floor were in absolute darkness, and over those upper +two the wooden shutters were closed. But in the shutters there were +diamond-shaped holes, and from these holes two yellow beams of light, +like glowing eyes upon the watch, streamed out and melted in the air. +</P> + +<P> +"You are sure that the front of the house is guarded?" asked Hanaud +anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Lemerre. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo shivered with excitement. The launch slid noiselessly into the +bank and lay hidden under its shadow. Hanaud turned to his associates +with his finger to his lips. Something gleamed darkly in his hand. It +was the barrel of his revolver. Cautiously the men disembarked and +crept up the bank. First came Lemerre, then Hanaud; Ricardo followed +him, and the fourth man, who had struck the match under the trees, +brought up the rear. The other three officers remained in the boat. +</P> + +<P> +Stooping under the shadow of the side wall of the garden, the invaders +stole towards the house. When a bush rustled or a tree whispered in the +light wind, Ricardo's heart jumped to his throat. Once Lemerre stopped, +as though his ears heard a sound which warned him of danger. Then +cautiously he crept on again. The garden was a ragged place of unmown +lawn and straggling bushes. Behind each one Mr. Ricardo seemed to feel +an enemy. Never had he been in so strait a predicament. He, the +cultured host of Grosvenor Square, was creeping along under a wall with +Continental policemen; he was going to raid a sinister house by the +Lake of Geneva. It was thrilling. Fear and excitement gripped him in +turn and let him go, but always he was sustained by the pride of the +man doing an out-of-the-way thing. "If only my friends could see me +now!" The ancient vanity was loud in his bosom. Poor fellows, they were +upon yachts in the Solent or on grouse-moors in Scotland, or on +golf-links at North Berwick. He alone of them all was tracking +malefactors to their doom by Leman's Lake. +</P> + +<P> +From these agreeable reflections Ricardo was shaken. Lemerre stopped. +The raiders had reached the angle made by the side wall of the garden +and the house. A whisper was exchanged, and the party turned and moved +along the house wall towards the lighted window on the ground floor. As +Lemerre reached it he stooped. Then slowly his forehead and his eyes +rose above the sill and glanced this way and that into the room. Mr. +Ricardo could see his eyes gleaming as the light from the window caught +them. His face rose completely over the sill. He stared into the room +without care or apprehension, and then dropped again out of the reach +of the light. He turned to Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"The room is empty," he whispered.</p> + +<p>Hanaud turned to Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Pass under the sill, or the light from the window will throw your +shadow upon the lawn." +</P> + +<P> +The party came to the back door of the house. Lemerre tried the handle +of the door, and to his surprise it yielded. They crept into the +passage. The last man closed the door noiselessly, locked it, and +removed the key. A panel of light shone upon the wall a few paces +ahead. The door of the lighted room was open. As Ricardo stepped +silently past it, he looked in. It was a parlour meanly furnished. +Hanaud touched him on the arm and pointed to the table. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo had seen the objects at which Hanaud pointed often enough +without uneasiness; but now, in this silent house of crime, they had +the most sinister and appalling aspect. There was a tiny phial half +full of a dark-brown liquid, beside it a little leather case lay open, +and across the case, ready for use or waiting to be filled, was a +bright morphia needle. Ricardo felt the cold creep along his spine, and +shivered. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," whispered Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +They reached the foot of a flight of stairs, and cautiously mounted it. +They came out in a passage which ran along the side of the house from +the back to the front. It was unlighted, but they were now on the level +of the street, and a fan-shaped glass window over the front door +admitted a pale light. There was a street lamp near to the door, +Ricardo remembered. For by the light of it Marthe Gobin had seen Celia +Harland run so nimbly into this house. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the men in the passage held their breath. Some one strode +heavily by on the pavement outside—to Mr. Ricardo's ear a most +companionable sound. Then a clock upon a church struck the half-hour +musically, distantly. It was half-past eight. And a second afterwards a +tiny bright light shone. Hanaud was directing the light of a pocket +electric torch to the next flight of stairs. +</P> + +<P> +Here the steps were carpeted, and once more the men crept up. One after +another they came out upon the next landing. It ran, like those below +it, along the side of the house from the back to the front, and the +doors were all upon their left hand. From beneath the door nearest to +them a yellow line of light streamed out. +</P> + +<P> +They stood in the darkness listening. But not a sound came from behind +the door. Was this room empty, too? In each one's mind was the fear +that the birds had flown. Lemerre carefully took the handle of the door +and turned it. Very slowly and cautiously he opened the door. A strong +light beat out through the widening gap upon his face. And then, though +his feet did not move, his shoulders and his face drew back. The action +was significant enough. This room, at all events, was not empty. But of +what Lemerre saw in the room his face gave no hint. He opened the door +wider, and now Hanaud saw. Ricardo, trembling with excitement, watched +him. But again there was no expression of surprise, consternation, or +delight. He stood stolidly and watched. Then he turned to Ricardo, +placed a finger on his lips, and made room. Ricardo crept on tiptoe to +his side. And now he too could look in. He saw a brightly lit bedroom +with a made bed. On his left were the shuttered windows overlooking the +lake. On his right in the partition wall a door stood open. Through the +door he could see a dark, windowless closet, with a small bed from +which the bedclothes hung and trailed upon the floor, as though some +one had been but now roughly dragged from it. On a table, close by the +door, lay a big green hat with a brown ostrich feather, and a white +cloak. But the amazing spectacle which kept him riveted was just in +front of him. An old hag of a woman was sitting in a chair with her +back towards them. She was mending with a big needle the holes in an +old sack, and while she bent over her work she crooned to herself some +French song. Every now and then she raised her eyes, for in front of +her, under her charge, Mlle. Celie, the girl of whom Hanaud was in +search, lay helpless upon a sofa. The train of her delicate green frock +swept the floor. She was dressed as Helene Vauquier had described. Her +gloved hands were tightly bound behind her back, her feet were crossed +so that she could not have stood, and her ankles were cruelly strapped +together. Over her face and eyes a piece of coarse sacking was +stretched like a mask, and the ends were roughly sewn together at the +back of her head. She lay so still that, but for the labouring of her +bosom and a tremor which now and again shook her limbs, the watchers +would have thought her dead. She made no struggle of resistance; she +lay quiet and still. Once she writhed, but it was with the uneasiness +of one in pain, and the moment she stirred the old woman's hand went +out to a bright aluminium flask which stood on a little table at her +side. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep quiet, little one!" she ordered in a careless, chiding voice, and +she rapped with the flask peremptorily upon the table. Immediately, as +though the tapping had some strange message of terror for the girl's +ear, she stiffened her whole body and lay rigid. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not ready for you yet, little fool," said the old woman, and she +bent again to her work. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo's brain whirled. Here was the girl whom they had come to +arrest, who had sprung from the salon with so much activity of youth +across the stretch of grass, who had run so quickly and lightly across +the pavement into this very house, so that she should not be seen. And +now she was lying in her fine and delicate attire a captive, at the +mercy of the very people who were her accomplices. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a scream rang out in the garden—a shrill, loud scream, close +beneath the windows. The old woman sprang to her feet. The girl on the +sofa raised her head. The old woman took a step towards the window, and +then she swiftly turned towards the door. She saw the men upon the +threshold. She uttered a bellow of rage. There is no other word to +describe the sound. It was not a human cry; it was the bellow of an +angry animal. She reached out her hand towards the flask, but before +she could grasp it Hanaud seized her. She burst into a torrent of foul +oaths. Hanaud flung her across to Lemerre's officer, who dragged her +from the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick!" said Hanaud, pointing to the girl, who was now struggling +helplessly upon the sofa. "Mlle. Celie!" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo cut the stitches of the sacking. Hanaud unstrapped her hands +and feet. They helped her to sit up. She shook her hands in the air as +though they tortured her, and then, in a piteous, whimpering voice, +like a child's, she babbled incoherently and whispered prayers. +Suddenly the prayers ceased. She sat stiff, with eyes fixed and +staring. She was watching Lemerre, and she was watching him fascinated +with terror. He was holding in his hand the large, bright aluminium +flask. He poured a little of the contents very carefully on to a piece +of the sack; and then with an exclamation of anger he turned towards +Hanaud. But Hanaud was supporting Celia; and so, as Lemerre turned +abruptly towards him with the flask in his hand, he turned abruptly +towards Celia too. She wrenched herself from Hanaud's arms, she shrank +violently away. Her white face flushed scarlet and grew white again. +She screamed loudly, terribly; and after the scream she uttered a +strange, weak sigh, and so fell sideways in a swoon. Hanaud caught her +as she fell. A light broke over his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I understand!" he cried. "Good God! That's horrible." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE HOUSE AT GENEVA +</H3> + +<P> +It was well, Mr. Ricardo thought, that some one understood. For +himself, he frankly admitted that he did not. Indeed, in his view the +first principles of reasoning seemed to be set at naught. It was +obvious from the solicitude with which Celia Harland was surrounded +that every one except himself was convinced of her innocence. Yet it +was equally obvious that any one who bore in mind the eight points he +had tabulated against her must be convinced of her guilt. Yet again, if +she were guilty, how did it happen that she had been so mishandled by +her accomplices? He was not allowed, however, to reflect upon these +remarkable problems. He had too busy a time of it. At one moment he was +running to fetch water wherewith to bathe Celia's forehead. At another, +when he had returned with the water, he was distracted by the +appearance of Durette, the inspector from Aix, in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"We have them both," he said—"Hippolyte and the woman. They were +hiding in the garden." +</P> + +<P> +"So I thought," said Hanaud, "when I saw the door open downstairs, and +the morphia-needle on the table." +</P> + +<P> +Lemerre turned to one of the officers. +</P> + +<P> +"Let them be taken with old Jeanne in cabs to the depot." +</P> + +<P> +And when the man had gone upon his errand Lemerre spoke to Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"You will stay here to-night to arrange for their transfer to Aix?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will leave Durette behind," said Hanaud. "I am needed at Aix. We +will make a formal application for the prisoners." He was kneeling by +Celia's side and awkwardly dabbing her forehead with a wet +handkerchief. He raised a warning hand. Celia Harland moved and opened +her eyes. She sat up on the sofa, shivering, and looked with dazed and +wondering eyes from one to another of the strangers who surrounded her. +She searched in vain for a familiar face. +</P> + +<P> +"You are amongst good friends, Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud with great +gentleness. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I wonder! I wonder!" she cried piteously. +</P> + +<P> +"Be very sure of it," he said heartily, and she clung to the sleeve of +his coat with desperate hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you ARE friends," she said; "else why—?" and she moved her +numbed limbs to make certain that she was free. She looked about the +room. Her eyes fell upon the sack and widened with terror. +</P> + +<P> +"They came to me a little while ago in that cupboard there—Adele and +the old woman Jeanne. They made me get up. They told me they were going +to take me away. They brought my clothes and dressed me in everything I +wore when I came, so that no single trace of me might be left behind. +Then they tied me." She tore off her gloves and showed them her +lacerated wrists. "I think they meant to kill me—horribly." And she +caught her breath and whimpered like a child. Her spirit was broken. +</P> + +<P> +"My poor girl, all that is over," said Hanaud. And he stood up. +</P> + +<P> +But at the first movement he made she cried incisively, "No," and +tightened the clutch of her fingers upon his sleeve. +</P> + +<P> +"But, mademoiselle, you are safe," he said, with a smile. She stared at +him stupidly. It seemed the words had no meaning for her. She would not +let him go. It was only the feel of his coat within the clutch of her +fingers which gave her any comfort. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to be sure that I am safe," she said, with a wan little smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, mademoiselle, what have you had to eat and drink during the +last two days?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it two days?" she asked. "I was in the dark there. I did not know. +A little bread, a little water." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what is wrong," said Hanaud. "Come, let us go from here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes!" Celia cried eagerly. She rose to her feet, and tottered. +Hanaud put his arm about her. "You are very kind," she said in a low +voice, and again doubt looked out from her face and disappeared. "I am +sure that I can trust you." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo fetched her cloak and slipped it on her shoulders. Then he +brought her hat, and she pinned it on. She turned to Hanaud; +unconsciously familiar words rose to her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it straight?" she asked. And Hanaud laughed outright, and in a +moment Celia smiled herself. +</P> + +<P> +Supported by Hanaud she stumbled down the stairs to the garden. As they +passed the open door of the lighted parlour at the back of the house +Hanaud turned back to Lemerre and pointed silently to the +morphia-needle and the phial. Lemerre nodded his head, and going into +the room took them away. They went out again into the garden. Celia +Harland threw back her head to the stars and drew in a deep breath of +the cool night air. +</P> + +<P> +"I did not think," she said in a low voice, "to see the stars again." +</P> + +<P> +They walked slowly down the length of the garden, and Hanaud lifted her +into the launch. She turned and caught his coat. +</P> + +<P> +"You must come too," she said stubbornly. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud sprang in beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"For to-night," he said gaily, "I am your papa!" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo and the others followed, and the launch moved out over the lake +under the stars. The bow was turned towards Geneva, the water tumbled +behind them like white fire, the night breeze blew fresh upon their +faces. They disembarked at the landing-stage, and then Lemerre bowed to +Celia and took his leave. Hanaud led Celia up on to the balcony of the +restaurant and ordered supper. There were people still dining at the +tables. +</P> + +<P> +One party indeed sitting late over their coffee Ricardo recognised with +a kind of shock. They had taken their places, the very places in which +they now sat, before he and Hanaud and Lemerre had left the restaurant +upon their expedition of rescue. Into that short interval of time so +much that was eventful had been crowded. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud leaned across the table to Celia and said in a low voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle, if I may suggest it, it would be as well if you put on +your gloves; otherwise they may notice your wrists." +</P> + +<P> +Celia followed his advice. She ate some food and drank a glass of +champagne. A little colour returned to her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very kind to me, you and monsieur your friend," she said, with +a smile towards Ricardo. "But for you—" and her voice shook. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" said Hanaud—"all that is over; we will not speak of it." +</P> + +<P> +Celia looked out across the road on to the trees, of which the dark +foliage was brightened and made pale by the lights of the restaurant. +Out on the water some one was singing. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems impossible to me," she said in a low voice, "that I am here, +in the open air, and free." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud looked at his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie, it is past ten o'clock. M. Ricardo's car is waiting there +under the trees. I want you to drive back to Aix. I have taken rooms +for you at an hotel, and there will be a nurse from the hospital to +look after you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, monsieur," she said; "you have thought of everything. But I +shall not need a nurse." +</P> + +<P> +"But you will have a nurse," said Hanaud firmly. "You feel stronger +now—yes, but when you lay your head upon your pillow, mademoiselle, it +will be a comfort to you to know that you have her within call. And in +a day or two," he added gently, "you will perhaps be able to tell us +what happened on Tuesday night at the Villa Rose?" +</P> + +<P> +Celia covered her face with her hands for a few moments. Then she drew +them away and said simply: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur, I will tell you." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud bowed to her with a genuine deference. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, mademoiselle," he said, and in his voice there was a strong +ring of sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +They went downstairs and entered Ricardo's motor car. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to send a telephone message," said Hanaud, "if you will wait +here." +</P> + +<P> +"No!" cried Celia decisively, and she again laid hold of his coat, with +a pretty imperiousness, as though he belonged to her. +</P> + +<P> +"But I must," said Hanaud with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will come too," said Celia, and she opened the door and set a +foot upon the step. +</P> + +<P> +"You will not, mademoiselle," said Hanaud, with a laugh. "Will you take +your foot back into that car? That is better. Now you will sit with +your friend, M. Ricardo, whom, by the way, I have not yet introduced to +you. He is a very good friend of yours, mademoiselle, and will in the +future be a still better one." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo felt his conscience rather heavy within him, for he had come +out to Geneva with the fixed intention of arresting her as a most +dangerous criminal. Even now he could not understand how she could be +innocent of a share in Mme. Dauvray's murder. But Hanaud evidently +thought she was. And since Hanaud thought so, why, it was better to say +nothing if one was sensitive to gibes. So Ricardo sat and talked with +her while Hanaud ran back into the restaurant. It mattered very little, +however, what he said, for Celia's eyes were fixed upon the doorway +through which Hanaud had disappeared. And when he came back she was +quick to turn the handle of the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, mademoiselle, we will wrap you up in M. Ricardo's spare +motor-coat and cover your knees with a rug and put you between us, and +then you can go to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +The car sped through the streets of Geneva. Celia Harland, with a +little sigh of relief, nestled down between the two men. +</P> + +<P> +"If I knew you better," she said to Hanaud, "I should tell you—what, +of course, I do not tell you now—that I feel as if I had a big +Newfoundland dog with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud, and his voice told her that he was moved, +"that is a very pretty thing which you have said to me." +</P> + +<P> +The lights of the city fell away behind them. Now only a glow in the +sky spoke of Geneva; now even that was gone and with a smooth +continuous purr the car raced through the cool darkness. The great head +lamps threw a bright circle of light before them and the road slipped +away beneath the wheels like a running tide. Celia fell asleep. Even +when the car stopped at the Pont de La Caille she did not waken. The +door was opened, a search for contraband was made, the book was signed, +still she did not wake. The car sped on. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, coming into France is a different affair," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Still, I will own it, you caught me napping yesterday. +</P> + +<P> +"I did?" exclaimed Ricardo joyfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You did," returned Hanaud. "I had never heard of the Pont de La +Caille. But you will not mention it? You will not ruin me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will not," answered M. Ricardo, superb in his magnanimity. "You are +a good detective." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" cried Hanaud in a voice which shook—surely +with emotion. He wrung Ricardo's hand. He wiped an imaginary tear from +his eye. +</P> + +<P> +And still Celia slept. M. Ricardo looked at her. He said to Hanaud in a +whisper: +</P> + +<P> +"Yet I do not understand. The car, though no serious search was made, +must still have stopped at the Pont de La Caille on the Swiss side. Why +did she not cry for help then? One cry and she was safe. A movement +even was enough. Do you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," he answered, with a very gentle look at Celia. "Yes, I +think so." +</P> + +<P> +When Celia was aroused she found that the car had stopped before the +door of an hotel, and that a woman in the dress of a nurse was standing +in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"You can trust Marie," said Hanaud. And Celia turned as she stood upon +the ground and gave her hands to the two men. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you! Thank you both!" she said in a trembling voice. She looked +at Hanaud and nodded her head. "You understand why I thank you so very +much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Hanaud. "But, mademoiselle"—and he bent over the car and +spoke to her quietly, holding her hand—"there is ALWAYS a big +Newfoundland dog in the worst of troubles—if only you will look for +him. I tell you so—I, who belong to the Surete in Paris. Do not lose +heart!" And in his mind he added: "God forgive me for the lie." He +shook her hand and let it go; and gathering up her skirt she went into +the hall of the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud watched her as she went. She was to him a lonely and pathetic +creature, in spite of the nurse who bore her company. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be a good friend to that young girl, M. Ricardo," he said. +"Let us drive to your hotel." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Ricardo. And as they went the curiosity which all the way +from Geneva had been smouldering within him burst into flame. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you explain to me one thing?" he asked. "When the scream came +from the garden you were not surprised. Indeed, you said that when you +saw the open door and the morphia-needle on the table of the little +room downstairs you thought Adele and the man Hippolyte were hiding in +the garden." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I did think so." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? And why did the publication that the jewels had been discovered +so alarm you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Did not you understand that? Yet it is surely clear +and obvious, if you once grant that the girl was innocent, was a +witness of the crime, and was now in the hands of the criminals. Grant +me those premisses, M. Ricardo, for a moment, and you will see that we +had just one chance of finding the girl alive in Geneva. From the first +I was sure of that. What was the one chance? Why, this! She might be +kept alive on the chance that she could be forced to tell what, by the +way, she did not know, namely, the place where Mme. Dauvray's valuable +jewels were secreted. Now, follow this. We, the police, find the jewels +and take charge of them. Let that news reach the house in Geneva, and +on the same night Mlle. Celie loses her life, and not—very pleasantly. +They have no further use for her. She is merely a danger to them. So I +take my precautions—never mind for the moment what they were. I take +care that if the murderer is in Aix and gets wind of our discovery he +shall not be able to communicate his news." +</P> + +<P> +"The Post Office would have stopped letters or telegrams," said +Ricardo. "I understand." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," replied Hanaud. "No, I took my precautions, which +were of quite a different kind, before I knew the house in Geneva or +the name of Rossignol. But one way of communication I did not think of. +I did not think of the possibility that the news might be sent to a +newspaper, which of course would publish it and cry it through the +streets of Geneva. The moment I heard the news I knew we must hurry. +The garden of the house ran down to the lake. A means of disposing of +Mlle. Celie was close at hand. And the night had fallen. As it was, we +arrived just in time, and no earlier than just in time. The paper had +been bought, the message had reached the house, Mlle. Celie was no +longer of any use, and every hour she stayed in that house was of +course an hour of danger to her captors." +</P> + +<P> +"What were they going to do?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not pretty—what they were going to do. We reach the garden in +our launch. At that moment Hippolyte and Adele, who is most likely +Hippolyte's wife, are in the lighted parlour on the basement floor. +Adele is preparing her morphia-needle. Hippolyte is going to get ready +the rowing-boat which was tied at the end of the landing-stage. Quietly +as we came into the bank, they heard or saw us. They ran out and hid in +the garden, having no time to lock the garden door, or perhaps not +daring to lock it lest the sound of the key should reach our ears. We +find that door upon the latch, the door of the room open; on the table +lies the morphia-needle. Upstairs lies Mlle. Celie—she is helpless, +she cannot see what they are meaning to do." +</P> + +<P> +"But she could cry out," exclaimed Ricardo. "She did not even do that!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, my friend, she could not cry out," replied Hanaud very seriously. +"I know why. She could not. No living man or woman could. Rest assured +of that!" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo was mystified; but since the captain of the ship would not show +his observation, he knew it would be in vain to press him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, while Adele was preparing her morphia-needle and Hippolyte was +about to prepare the boat, Jeanne upstairs was making her preparation +too. She was mending a sack. Did you see Mlle. Celie's eyes and face +when first she saw that sack? Ah! she understood! They meant to give +her a dose of morphia, and, as soon as she became unconscious, they +were going perhaps to take some terrible precaution—" Hanaud paused +for a second. "I only say perhaps as to that. But certainly they were +going to sew her up in that sack, row her well out across the lake, fix +a weight to her feet, and drop her quietly overboard. She was to wear +everything which she had brought with her to the house. Mlle. Celie +would have disappeared for ever, and left not even a ripple upon the +water to trace her by!" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo clenched his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"But that's horrible!" he cried; and as he uttered the words the car +swerved into the drive and stopped before the door of the Hotel +Majestic. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo sprang out. A feeling of remorse seized hold of him. All +through that evening he had not given one thought to Harry Wethermill, +so utterly had the excitement of each moment engrossed his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"He will be glad to know!" cried Ricardo. "To-night, at all events, he +shall sleep. I ought to have telegraphed to him from Geneva that we and +Miss Celia were coming back." He ran up the steps into the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"I took care that he should know," said Hanaud, as he followed in +Ricardo's steps. +</P> + +<P> +"Then the message could not have reached him, else he would have been +expecting us," replied Ricardo, as he hurried into the office, where a +clerk sat at his books. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mr. Wethermill in?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +The clerk eyed him strangely. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Wethermill was arrested this evening," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo stepped back. +</P> + +<P> +"Arrested! When?" +</P> + +<P> +"At twenty-five minutes past ten," replied the clerk shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah," said Hanaud quietly. "That was my telephone message." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo stared in stupefaction at his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Arrested!" he cried. "Arrested! But what for?" +</P> + +<P> +"For the murders of Marthe Gobin and Mme. Dauvray," said Hanaud. +"Good-night." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MR. RICARDO IS BEWILDERED +</H3> + +<P> +Ricardo passed a most tempestuous night. He was tossed amongst dark +problems. Now it was Harry Wethermill who beset him. He repeated and +repeated the name, trying to grasp the new and sinister suggestion +which, if Hanaud were right, its sound must henceforth bear. Of course +Hanaud might be wrong. Only, if he were wrong, how had he come to +suspect Harry Wethermill? What had first directed his thoughts to that +seemingly heart-broken man? And when? Certain recollections became +vivid in Mr. Ricardo's mind—the luncheon at the Villa Rose, for +instance. Hanaud had been so insistent that the woman with the red hair +was to be found in Geneva, had so clearly laid it down that a message, +a telegram, a letter from Aix to Geneva, would enable him to lay his +hands upon the murderer in Aix. He was isolating the house in Geneva +even so early in the history of his investigations, even so soon he +suspected Harry Wethermill. Brains and audacity—yes, these two +qualities he had stipulated in the criminal. Ricardo now for the first +time understood the trend of all Hanaud's talk at that luncheon. He was +putting Harry Wethermill upon his guard, he was immobilising him, he +was fettering him in precautions; with a subtle skill he was forcing +him to isolate himself. And he was doing it deliberately to save the +life of Celia Harland in Geneva. Once Ricardo lifted himself up with +the hair stirring on his scalp. He himself had been with Wethermill in +the baccarat-rooms on the very night of the murder. They had walked +together up the hill to the hotel. It could not be that Harry +Wethermill was guilty. And yet, he suddenly remembered, they had +together left the rooms at an early hour. It was only ten o'clock when +they had separated in the hall, when they had gone, each to his own +room. There would have been time for Wethermill to reach the Villa Rose +and do his dreadful work upon that night before twelve, if all had been +arranged beforehand, if all went as it had been arranged. And as he +thought upon the careful planning of that crime, and remembered +Wethermill's easy chatter as they had strolled from table to table in +the Villa des Fleurs, Ricardo shuddered. Though he encouraged a taste +for the bizarre, it was with an effort. He was naturally of an orderly +mind, and to touch the eerie or inhuman caused him a physical +discomfort. So now he marvelled in a great uneasiness at the calm +placidity with which Wethermill had talked, his arm in his, while the +load of so dark a crime to be committed within the hour lay upon his +mind. Each minute he must have been thinking, with a swift spasm of the +heart, "Should such a precaution fail—should such or such an +unforeseen thing intervene," yet there had been never a sign of +disturbance, never a hint of any disquietude. +</P> + +<P> +Then Ricardo's thoughts turned as he tossed upon his bed to Celia +Harland, a tragic and a lonely figure. He recalled the look of +tenderness upon her face when her eyes had met Harry Wethermill's +across the baccarat-table in the Villa des Fleurs. He gained some +insight into the reason why she had clung so desperately to Hanaud's +coat-sleeve yesterday. Not merely had he saved her life. She was lying +with all her world of trust and illusion broken about her, and Hanaud +had raised her up. She had found some one whom she trusted—the big +Newfoundland dog, as she expressed it. Mr. Ricardo was still thinking +of Celia Harland when the morning came. He fell asleep, and awoke to +find Hanaud by his bed. +</P> + +<P> +"You will be wanted to-day," said Hanaud. +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo got up and walked down from the hotel with the detective. The +front door faces the hillside of Mont Revard, and on this side Mr. +Ricardo's rooms looked out. The drive from the front door curves round +the end of the long building and joins the road, which then winds down +towards the town past the garden at the back of the hotel. Down this +road the two men walked, while the supporting wall of the garden upon +their right hand grew higher and higher above their heads. They came to +a steep flight of steps which makes a short cut from the hotel to the +road, and at the steps Hanaud stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see?" he said. "On the opposite side there are no houses; there +is only a wall. Behind the wall there are climbing gardens and the +ground falls steeply to the turn of the road below. There's a flight of +steps leading down which corresponds with the flight of steps from the +garden. Very often there's a SERJENT-DE-VILLE stationed on the top of +the steps. But there was not one there yesterday afternoon at three. +Behind us is the supporting wall of the hotel garden. Well, look about +you. We cannot be seen from the hotel. There's not a soul in +sight—yes, there's some one coming up the hill, but we have been +standing here quite long enough for you to stab me and get back to your +coffee on the verandah of the hotel." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo started back. +</P> + +<P> +"Marthe Gobin!" he cried. "It was here, then?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"When we returned from the station in your motor-car and went up to +your rooms we passed Harry Wethermill sitting upon the verandah over +the garden drinking his coffee. He had the news then that Marthe Gobin +was on her way." +</P> + +<P> +"But you had isolated the house in Geneva. How could he have the news?" +exclaimed Ricardo, whose brain was whirling. +</P> + +<P> +"I had isolated the house from him, in the sense that he dared not +communicate with his accomplices. That is what you have to remember. He +could not even let them know that they must not communicate with him. +So he received a telegram. It was carefully worded. No doubt he had +arranged the wording of any message with the care which was used in all +the preparations. It ran like this"—and Hanaud took a scrap of paper +from his pocket and read out from it a copy of the telegram: "'Agent +arrives Aix 3.7 to negotiate purchase of your patent.' The telegram was +handed in at Geneva station at 12.45, five minutes after the train had +left which carried Marthe Gobin to Aix. And more, it was handed in by a +man strongly resembling Hippolyte Tace—that we know." +</P> + +<P> +"That was madness," said Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"But what else could they do over there in Geneva? They did not know +that Harry Wethermill was suspected. Harry Wethermill had no idea of it +himself. But, even if they had known, they must take the risk. Put +yourself into their place for a moment. They had seen my advertisement +about Celie Harland in the Geneva paper. Marthe Gobin, that busybody +who was always watching her neighbours, was no doubt watched herself. +They see her leave the house, an unusual proceeding for her with her +husband ill, as her own letter tells us. Hippolyte follows her to the +station, sees her take her ticket to Aix and mount into the train. He +must guess at once that she saw Celie Harland enter their house, that +she is travelling to Aix with the information of her whereabouts. At +all costs she must be prevented from giving that information. At all +risks, therefore, the warning telegram must be sent to Harry +Wethermill." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo recognised the force of the argument. +</P> + +<P> +"If only you had heard of the telegram yesterday in time!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes!" Hanaud agreed. "But it was only sent off at a quarter to +one. It was delivered to Wethermill and a copy was sent to the +Prefecture, but the telegram was delivered first." +</P> + +<P> +"When was it delivered to Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"At three. We had already left for the station. Wethermill was sitting +on the verandah. The telegram was brought to him there. It was brought +by a waiter in the hotel who remembers the incident very well. +Wethermill has seven minutes and the time it will take for Marthe Gobin +to drive from the station to the Majestic. What does he do? He runs up +first to your rooms, very likely not yet knowing what he must do. He +runs up to verify his telegram." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure of that?" cried Ricardo. "How can you be? You were at the +station with me. What makes you sure?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud produced a brown kid glove from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"This." +</P> + +<P> +"That is your glove; you told me so yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you so," replied Hanaud calmly; "but it is not my glove. It is +Wethermill's; there are his initials stamped upon the lining—see? I +picked up that glove in your room, after we had returned from the +station. It was not there before. He went to your rooms. No doubt he +searched for a telegram. Fortunately he did not examine your letters, +or Marthe Gobin would never have spoken to us as she did after she was +dead." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what did he do?" asked Ricardo eagerly; and, though Hanaud had +been with him at the entrance to the station all this while, he asked +the question in absolute confidence that the true answer would be given +to him. +</P> + +<P> +"He returned to the verandah wondering what he should do. He saw us +come back from the station in the motor-car and go up to your room. We +were alone. Marthe Gobin, then, was following. There was his chance. +Marthe Gobin must not reach us, must not tell her news to us. He ran +down the garden steps to the gate. No one could see him from the hotel. +Very likely he hid behind the trees, whence he could watch the road. A +cab comes up the hill; there's a woman in it—not quite the kind of +woman who stays at your hotel, M. Ricardo. Yet she must be going to +your hotel, for the road ends. The driver is nodding on his box, +refusing to pay any heed to his fare lest again she should bid him +hurry. His horse is moving at a walk. Wethermill puts his head in at +the window and asks if she has come to see M. Ricardo. Anxious for her +four thousand francs, she answers 'Yes.' Perhaps he steps into the cab, +perhaps as he walks by the side he strikes, and strikes hard and +strikes surely. Long before the cab reaches the hotel he is back again +on the verandah." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Ricardo, "it's the daring of which you spoke which made the +crime possible—the same daring which made him seek your help. That was +unexampled." +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Hanaud. "There's an historic crime in your own country, +monsieur. Cries for help were heard in a by-street of a town. When +people ran to answer them, a man was found kneeling by a corpse. It was +the kneeling man who cried for help, but it was also the kneeling man +who did the murder. I remembered that when I first began to suspect +Harry Wethermill." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo turned eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"And when—when did you first begin to suspect Harry Wethermill?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud smiled and shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"That you shall know in good time. I am the captain of the ship." His +voice took on a deeper note. "But I prepare you. Listen! Daring and +brains, those were the property of Harry Wethermill—yes. But it is not +he who is the chief actor in the crime. Of that I am sure. He was no +more than one of the instruments." +</P> + +<P> +"One of the instruments? Used, then, by whom?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"By my Normandy peasant-woman, M. Ricardo," said Hanaud. "Yes, there's +the dominating figure—cruel, masterful, relentless—that strange +woman, Helene Vauquier. You are surprised? You will see! It is not the +man of intellect and daring; it's my peasant-woman who is at the bottom +of it all." +</P> + +<P> +"But she's free!" exclaimed Ricardo. "You let her go free!" +</P> + +<P> +"Free!" repeated Ricardo. "She was driven straight from the Villa Rose +to the depot. She has been kept AU SECRET ever since." +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo stared in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"Already you knew of her guilt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Already she had lied to me in her description of Adele Rossignol. Do +you remember what she said—a black-haired woman with beady eyes; and I +only five minutes before had picked up from the table—this." +</P> + +<P> +He opened his pocket-book, and took from an envelope a long strand of +red hair. +</P> + +<P> +"But it was not only because she lied that I had her taken to the +depot. A pot of cold cream had disappeared from the room of Mlle. Celie." +</P> + +<P> +"Then Perrichet after all was right." +</P> + +<P> +"Perrichet after all was quite wrong—not to hold his tongue. For in +that pot of cold cream, as I was sure, were hidden those valuable +diamond earrings which Mlle. Celie habitually wore." +</P> + +<P> +The two men had reached the square in front of the Etablissement des +Bains. Ricardo dropped on to a bench and wiped his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"But I am in a maze," he cried. "My head turns round. I don't know +where I am." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud stood in front of Ricardo, smiling. He was not displeased with +his companion's bewilderment; it was all so much of tribute to himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I am the captain of the ship," he said. +</P> + +<P> +His smile irritated Ricardo, who spoke impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"I should be very glad," he said, "if you would tell me how you +discovered all these things. And what it was that the little salon on +the first morning had to tell to you? And why Celia Harland ran from +the glass doors across the grass to the motor-car and again from the +carriage into the house on the lake? Why she did not resist yesterday +evening? Why she did not cry for help? How much of Helene Vauquier's +evidence was true and how much false? For what reason Wethermill +concerned himself in this affair? Oh! and a thousand things which I +don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, the cushions, and the scrap of paper, and the aluminium flask," +said Hanaud; and the triumph faded from his face. He spoke now to +Ricardo with a genuine friendliness. "You must not be angry with me if +I keep you in the dark for a little while. I, too, Mr. Ricardo, have +artistic inclinations. I will not spoil the remarkable story which I +think Mlle. Celie will be ready to tell us. Afterwards I will willingly +explain to you what I read in the evidences of the room, and what so +greatly puzzled me then. But it is not the puzzle or its solution," he +said modestly, "which is most interesting here. Consider the people. +Mme. Dauvray, the old, rich, ignorant woman, with her superstitions and +her generosity, her desire to converse with Mme. de Montespan and the +great ladies of the past, and her love of a young, fresh face about +her; Helene Vauquier, the maid with her six years of confidential +service, who finds herself suddenly supplanted and made to tend and +dress in dainty frocks the girl who has supplanted her; the young girl +herself, that poor child, with her love of fine clothes, the Bohemian +who, brought up amidst trickeries and practising them as a profession, +looking upon them and upon misery and starvation and despair as the +commonplaces of life, keeps a simplicity and a delicacy and a freshness +which would have withered in a day had she been brought up otherwise; +Harry Wethermill, the courted and successful man of genius. +</P> + +<P> +"Just imagine if you can what his feelings must have been, when in Mme. +Dauvray's bedroom, with the woman he had uselessly murdered lying rigid +beneath the sheet, he saw me raise the block of wood from the inlaid +floor and take out one by one those jewel cases for which less than +twelve hours before he had been ransacking that very room. But what he +must have felt! And to give no sign! Oh, these people are the +interesting problems in this story. Let us hear what happened on that +terrible night. The puzzle—that can wait." In Mr. Ricardo's view +Hanaud was proved right. The extraordinary and appalling story which +was gradually unrolled of what had happened on that night of Tuesday in +the Villa Rose exceeded in its grim interest all the mystery of the +puzzle. But it was not told at once. +</P> + +<P> +The trouble at first with Mlle. Celie was a fear of sleep. She dared +not sleep—even with a light in the room and a nurse at her bedside. +When her eyes were actually closing she would force herself desperately +back into the living world. For when she slept she dreamed through +again that dark and dreadful night of Tuesday and the two days which +followed it, until at some moment endurance snapped and she woke up +screaming. But youth, a good constitution, and a healthy appetite had +their way with her in the end. +</P> + +<P> +She told her share of the story—she told what happened. There was +apparently one terrible scene when she was confronted with Harry +Wethermill in the office of Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge d'instruction, +and on her knees, with the tears streaming down her face, besought him +to confess the truth. For a long while he held out. And then there came +a strange and human turn to the affair. Adele Rossignol—or, to give +her real name, Adele Tace, the wife of Hippolyte—had conceived a +veritable passion for Harry Wethermill. He was of a not uncommon type, +cold and callous in himself, yet with the power to provoke passion in +women. And Adele Tace, as the story was told of how Harry Wethermill +had paid his court to Celia Harland, was seized with a vindictive +jealousy. Hanaud was not surprised. He knew the woman-criminal of his +country—brutal, passionate, treacherous. The anonymous letters in a +woman's handwriting which descend upon the Rue de Jerusalem, and betray +the men who have committed thefts, had left him no illusions upon that +figure in the history of crime. Adele Rossignol ran forward to confess, +so that Harry Wethermill might suffer to the last possible point of +suffering. Then at last Wethermill gave in and, broken down by the +ceaseless interrogations of the magistrate, confessed in his turn too. +The one, and the only one, who stood firmly throughout and denied the +crime was Helene Vauquier. Her thin lips were kept contemptuously +closed, whatever the others might admit. With a white, hard face, +quietly and respectfully she faced the magistrate week after week. She +was the perfect picture of a servant who knew her place. And nothing +was wrung from her. But without her help the story became complete. And +Ricardo was at pains to write it out. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CELIA'S STORY +</H3> + +<P> +The story begins with the explanation of that circumstance which had +greatly puzzled Mr. Ricardo—Celia's entry into the household of Mme. +Dauvray. +</P> + +<P> +Celia's father was a Captain Harland, of a marching regiment, who had +little beyond good looks and excellent manners wherewith to support his +position. He was extravagant in his tastes, and of an easy mind in the +presence of embarrassments. To his other disadvantages he added that of +falling in love with a pretty girl no better off than himself. They +married, and Celia was born. For nine years they managed, through the +wife's constant devotion, to struggle along and to give their daughter +an education. Then, however, Celia's mother broke down under the strain +and died. Captain Harland, a couple of years later, went out of the +service with discredit, passed through the bankruptcy court, and turned +showman. His line was thought-reading; he enlisted the services of his +daughter, taught her the tricks of his trade, and became "The Great +Fortinbras" of the music-halls. Captain Harland would move amongst the +audience, asking the spectators in a whisper to think of a number or of +an article in their pockets, after the usual fashion, while the child, +in her short frock, with her long fair hair tied back with a ribbon, +would stand blind-folded upon the platform and reel off the answers +with astonishing rapidity. She was singularly quick, singularly +receptive. +</P> + +<P> +The undoubted cleverness of the performance, and the beauty of the +child, brought to them a temporary prosperity. The Great Fortinbras +rose from the music-halls to the assembly rooms of provincial towns. +The performance became genteel, and ladies flocked to the matinees. +</P> + +<P> +The Great Fortinbras dropped his pseudonym and became once more Captain +Harland. +</P> + +<P> +As Celia grew up, he tried a yet higher flight—he became a +spiritualist, with Celia for his medium. The thought-reading +entertainments became thrilling seances, and the beautiful child, now +grown into a beautiful girl of seventeen, created a greater sensation +as a medium in a trance than she had done as a lightning thought-reader. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw no harm in it," Celia explained to M. Fleuriot, without any +attempt at extenuation. "I never understood that we might be doing any +hurt to any one. People were interested. They were to find us out if +they could, and they tried to and they couldn't. I looked upon it quite +simply in that way. It was just my profession. I accepted it without +any question. I was not troubled about it until I came to Aix." +</P> + +<P> +A startling exposure, however, at Cambridge discredited the craze for +spiritualism, and Captain Harland's fortunes declined. He crossed with +his daughter to France and made a disastrous tour in that country, +wasted the last of his resources in the Casino at Dieppe, and died in +that town, leaving Celia just enough money to bury him and to pay her +third-class fare to Paris. +</P> + +<P> +There she lived honestly but miserably. The slimness of her figure and +a grace of movement which was particularly hers obtained her at last a +situation as a mannequin in the show-rooms of a modiste. She took a +room on the top floor of a house in the Rue St. Honore and settled down +to a hard and penurious life. +</P> + +<P> +"I was not happy or contented—no," said Celia frankly and decisively. +"The long hours in the close rooms gave me headaches and made me +nervous. I had not the temperament. And I was very lonely—my life had +been so different. I had had fresh air, good clothes, and freedom. Now +all was changed. I used to cry myself to sleep up in my little room, +wondering whether I would ever have friends. You see, I was quite +young—only eighteen—and I wanted to live." +</P> + +<P> +A change came in a few months, but a disastrous change. The modiste +failed. Celia was thrown out of work, and could get nothing to do. +Gradually she pawned what clothes she could spare; and then there came +a morning when she had a single five-franc piece in the world and owed +a month's rent for her room. She kept the five-franc piece all day and +went hungry, seeking for work. In the evening she went to a provision +shop to buy food, and the man behind the counter took the five-franc +piece. He looked at it, rung it on the counter, and, with a laugh, bent +it easily in half. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, my little one," he said, tossing the coin back to her, "one +does not buy good food with lead." +</P> + +<P> +Celia dragged herself out of the shop in despair. She was starving. She +dared not go back to her room. The thought of the concierge at the +bottom of the stairs, insistent for the rent, frightened her. She stood +on the pavement and burst into tears. A few people stopped and watched +her curiously, and went on again. Finally a sergent-de-ville told her +to go away. +</P> + +<P> +The girl moved on with the tears running down her cheeks. She was +desperate, she was lonely. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought of throwing myself into the Seine," said Celia simply, in +telling her story to the Juge d'Instruction. "Indeed, I went to the +river. But the water looked so cold, so terrible, and I was young. I +wanted so much to live. And then—the night came, and the lights made +the city bright, and I was very tired and—and—" +</P> + +<P> +And, in a word, the young girl went up to Montmartre in desperation, as +quickly as her tired legs would carry her. She walked once or twice +timidly past the restaurants, and, finally, entered one of them, hoping +that some one would take pity on her and give her some supper. She +stood just within the door of the supper-room. People pushed past +her—men in evening dress, women in bright frocks and jewels. No one +noticed her. She had shrunk into a corner, rather hoping not to be +noticed, now that she had come. But the novelty of her surroundings +wore off. She knew that for want of food she was almost fainting. There +were two girls engaged by the management to dance amongst the tables +while people had supper—one dressed as a page in blue satin, and the +other as a Spanish dancer. Both girls were kind. They spoke to Celia +between their dances. They let her waltz with them. Still no one +noticed her. She had no jewels, no fine clothes, no CHIC—the three +indispensable things. She had only youth and a pretty face. +</P> + +<P> +"But," said Celia, "without jewels and fine clothes and CHIC these go +for nothing in Paris. At last, however, Mme. Dauvray came in with a +party of friends from a theatre, and saw how unhappy I was, and gave me +some supper. She asked me about myself, and I told her. She was very +kind, and took me home with her, and I cried all the way in the +carriage. She kept me a few days, and then she told me that I was to +live with her, for often she was lonely too, and that if I would she +would some day find me a nice, comfortable husband and give me a +marriage portion. So all my troubles seemed to be at an end," said +Celia, with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +Within a fortnight Mme. Dauvray confided to Celia that there was a new +fortune-teller come to Paris, who, by looking into a crystal, could +tell the most wonderful things about the future. The old woman's eyes +kindled as she spoke. She took Celia to the fortune-teller's rooms next +day, and the girl quickly understood the ruling passion of the woman +who had befriended her. It took very little time then for Celia to +notice how easily Mme. Dauvray was duped, how perpetually she was +robbed. Celia turned the problem over in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame had been very good to me. She was kind and simple," said Celia, +with a very genuine affection in her voice. "The people whom we knew +laughed at her, and were ungenerous. But there are many women whom the +world respects who are worse than ever was poor Mme. Dauvray. I was +very fond of her, so I proposed to her that we should hold a seance, +and I would bring people from the spirit world I knew that I could +amuse her with something much more clever and more interesting than the +fortune-tellers. And at the same time I could save her from being +plundered. That was all I thought about." +</P> + +<P> +That was all she thought about, yes. She left Helene Vauquier out of +her calculations, and she did not foresee the effect of her steances +upon Mme. Dauvray. Celia had no suspicions of Helene Vauquier. She +would have laughed if any one had told her that this respectable and +respectful middle-aged woman, who was so attentive, so neat, so +grateful for any kindness, was really nursing a rancorous hatred +against her. Celia had sprung from Montmartre suddenly; therefore +Helene Vauquier despised her. Celia had taken her place in Mme. +Dauvray's confidence, had deposed her unwittingly, had turned the +confidential friend into a mere servant; therefore Helene Vauquier +hated her. And her hatred reached out beyond the girl, and embraced the +old, superstitious, foolish woman, whom a young and pretty face could +so easily beguile. Helene Vauquier despised them both, hated them both, +and yet must nurse her rancour in silence and futility. Then came the +seances, and at once, to add fuel to her hatred, she found herself +stripped of those gifts and commissions which she had exacted from the +herd of common tricksters who had been wont to make their harvest out +of Mme. Dauvray. Helene Vauquier was avaricious and greedy, like so +many of her class. Her hatred of Celia, her contempt for Mme. Dauvray, +grew into a very delirium. But it was a delirium she had the cunning to +conceal. She lived at white heat, but to all the world she had lost +nothing of her calm. +</P> + +<P> +Celia did not foresee the hatred she was arousing; nor, on the other +hand, did she foresee the overwhelming effect of these spiritualistic +seances on Mme. Dauvray. Celia had never been brought quite close to +the credulous before. +</P> + +<P> +"There had always been the row of footlights," she said. "I was on the +platform; the audience was in the hall; or, if it was at a house, my +father made the arrangements. I only came in at the last moment, played +my part, and went away. It was never brought home to me that some +amongst these people really and truly believed. I did not think about +it. Now, however, when I saw Mme. Dauvray so feverish, so excited, so +firmly convinced that great ladies from the spirit world came and spoke +to her, I became terrified. I had aroused a passion which I had not +suspected. I tried to stop the seances, but I was not allowed. I had +aroused a passion which I could not control. I was afraid that Mme. +Dauvray's whole life—it seems absurd to those who did not know her, +but those who did will understand—yes, her whole life and happiness +would be spoilt if she discovered that what she believed in was all a +trick." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke with a simplicity and a remorse which it was difficult to +disbelieve. M. Fleuriot, the judge, now at last convinced that the +Dreyfus affair was for nothing in the history of this crime, listened +to her with sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +"That is your explanation, mademoiselle," he said gently. "But I must +tell you that we have another." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, monsieur?" Celia asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Given by Helene Vauquier," said Fleuriot. +</P> + +<P> +Even after these days Celia could not hear that woman's name without a +shudder of fear and a flinching of her whole body. Her face grew white, +her lips dry. +</P> + +<P> +"I know, monsieur, that Helene Vauquier is not my friend," she said. "I +was taught that very cruelly." +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, mademoiselle, to what she says," said the judge, and he read +out to Celia an extract or two from Hanaud's report of his first +interview with Helene Vauquier in her bedroom at the Villa Rose. +</P> + +<P> +"You hear what she says. 'Mme. Dauvray would have had seances all day, +but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at the end of them. +But Mlle. Celie was of an address.' And again, speaking of Mme. +Dauvray's queer craze that the spirit of Mme. de Montespan should be +called up, Helene Vauquier says: 'She was never gratified. Always she +hoped. Always Mlle. Celie tantalised her with the hope. She would not +spoil her fine affairs by making these treats too common.' Thus she +attributes your reluctance to multiply your experiments to a desire to +make the most profit possible out of your wares, like a good business +woman." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not true, monsieur," cried Celia earnestly. "I tried to stop the +seances because now for the first time I recognised that I had been +playing with a dangerous thing. It was a revelation to me. I did not +know what to do. Mme. Dauvray would promise me everything, give me +everything, if only I would consent when I refused. I was terribly +frightened of what would happen. I did not want power over people. I +knew it was not good for her that she should suffer so much excitement. +No, I did not know what to do. And so we all moved to Aix." +</P> + +<P> +And there she met Harry Wethermill on the second day after her arrival, +and proceeded straightway for the first time to fall in love. To Celia +it seemed that at last that had happened for which she had so longed. +She began really to live as she understood life at this time. The day, +until she met Harry Wethermill, was one flash of joyous expectation; +the hours when they were together a time of contentment which thrilled +with some chance meeting of the hands into an exquisite happiness. Mme. +Dauvray understood quickly what was the matter, and laughed at her +affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Celie, my dear," she said, "your friend, M. Wethermill—'Arry, is it +not? See, I pronounce your tongue—will not be as comfortable as the +nice, fat, bourgeois gentleman I meant to find for you. But, since you +are young, naturally you want storms. And there will be storms, Celie," +she concluded, with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Celia blushed. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose there will," she said regretfully. There were, indeed, +moments when she was frightened of Harry Wethermill, but frightened +with a delicious thrill of knowledge that he was only stern because he +cared so much. +</P> + +<P> +But in a day or two there began to intrude upon her happiness a +stinging dissatisfaction with her past life. At times she fell into +melancholy, comparing her career with that of the man who loved her. At +times she came near to an extreme irritation with Helene Vauquier. Her +lover was in her thoughts. As she put it herself: +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted always to look my best, and always to be very good." +</P> + +<P> +Good in the essentials of life, that is to be understood. She had lived +in a lax world. She was not particularly troubled by the character of +her associates; she was untouched by them; she liked her fling at the +baccarat-tables. These were details, and did not distress her. Love had +not turned her into a Puritan. But certain recollections plagued her +soul. The visit to the restaurant at Montmartre, for instance, and the +seances. Of these, indeed, she thought to have made an end. There were +the baccarat-rooms, the beauty of the town and the neighbourhood to +distract Mme. Dauvray. Celia kept her thoughts away from seances. There +was no seance as yet held in the Villa Rose. And there would have been +none but for Helene Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +One evening, however, as Harry Wethermill walked down from the Cercle +to the Villa des Fleurs, a woman's voice spoke to him from behind. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned and saw Mme. Dauvray's maid. He stopped under a street lamp, +and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what can I do for you?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope monsieur will pardon me," she said humbly. "I am committing a +great impertinence. But I think monsieur is not very kind to Mlle. +Celie." +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill stared at her. +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth do you mean?" he asked angrily. +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier looked him quietly in the face. +</P> + +<P> +"It is plain, monsieur, that Mlle. Celie loves monsieur. Monsieur has +led her on to love him. But it is also plain to a woman with quick eyes +that monsieur himself cares no more for mademoiselle than for the +button on his coat. It is not very kind to spoil the happiness of a +young and pretty girl, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +Nothing could have been more respectful than the manner in which these +words were uttered. Wethermill was taken in by it. He protested +earnestly, fearing lest the maid should become an enemy. +</P> + +<P> +"Helene, it is not true that I am playing with Mlle. Celie. Why should +I not care for her?" +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier shrugged her shoulders. The question needed no answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I seek her so often if I did not care?" +</P> + +<P> +And to this question Helene Vauquier smiled—a quiet, slow, +confidential smile. +</P> + +<P> +"What does monsieur want of Mme. Dauvray?" she asked. And the question +was her answer. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill stood silent. Then he said abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, of course; nothing." And he walked away. +</P> + +<P> +But the smile remained on Helene Vauquier's face. What did they all +want of Mme. Dauvray? She knew very well. It was what she herself +wanted—with other things. It was money—always money. Wethermill was +not the first to seek the good graces of Mme. Dauvray through her +pretty companion. Helene Vauquier went home. She was not discontented +with her conversation. Wethermill had paused long enough before he +denied the suggestion of her words. She approached him a few days later +a second time and more openly. She was shopping in the Rue du Casino +when he passed her. He stopped of his own accord and spoke to her. +Helene Vauquier kept a grave and respectful face. But there was a pulse +of joy at her heart. He was coming to her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," she said, "you do not go the right way." And again her +strange smile illuminated her face. "Mlle. Celie sets a guard about +Mme. Dauvray. She will not give to people the opportunity to find +madame generous." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Wethermill slowly. "Is that so?" And he turned and walked by +Helene Vauquier's side. +</P> + +<P> +"Never speak of Mme. Dauvray's wealth, monsieur, if you would keep the +favour of Mlle. Celie. She is young, but she knows her world." +</P> + +<P> +"I have not spoken of money to her," replied Wethermill; and then he +burst out laughing. "But why should you think that I—I, of all +men—want money?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +And Helene answered him again enigmatically. +</P> + +<P> +"If I am wrong, monsieur, I am sorry, but you can help me too," she +said, in her submissive voice. And she passed on, leaving Wethermill +rooted to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +It was a bargain she proposed—the impertinence of it! It was a bargain +she proposed—the value of it! In that shape ran Harry Wethermill's +thoughts. He was in desperate straits, though to the world's eye he was +a man of wealth. A gambler, with no inexpensive tastes, he had been +always in need of money. The rights in his patent he had mortgaged long +ago. He was not an idler; he was no sham foisted as a great man on an +ignorant public. He had really some touch of genius, and he cultivated +it assiduously. But the harder he worked, the greater was his need of +gaiety and extravagance. Gifted with good looks and a charm of manner, +he was popular alike in the great world and the world of Bohemia. He +kept and wanted to keep a foot in each. That he was in desperate +straits now, probably Helene Vauquier alone in Aix had recognised. She +had drawn her inference from one simple fact. Wethermill asked her at a +later time when they were better acquainted how she had guessed his +need. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur," she replied, "you were in Aix without a valet, and it +seemed to me that you were of that class of men who would never move +without a valet so long as there was money to pay his wages. That was +my first thought. Then when I saw you pursue your friendship with Mlle. +Celie—you, who so clearly to my eyes did not love her—I felt sure." +</P> + +<P> +On the next occasion that the two met, it was again Harry Wethermill +who sought Helene Vauquier. He talked for a minute or two upon +indifferent subjects, and then he said quickly: +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose Mme. Dauvray is very rich?" +</P> + +<P> +"She has a great fortune in jewels," said Helene Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill started. He was agitated that evening, the woman saw. His +hands shook, his face twitched. Clearly he was hard put to it. For he +seldom betrayed himself. She thought it time to strike. +</P> + +<P> +"Jewels which she keeps in the safe in her bedroom," she added. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why don't you—?" he began, and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"I said that I too needed help," replied Helene, without a ruffle of +her composure. +</P> + +<P> +It was nine o'clock at night. Helene Vauquier had come down to the +Casino with a wrap for Mme. Dauvray. The two people were walking down +the little street of which the Casino blocks the end. And it happened +that an attendant at the Casino, named Alphonse Ruel, passed them, +recognised them both, and—smiled to himself with some amusement. What +was Wethermill doing in company with Mme. Dauvray's maid? Ruel had no +doubt. Ruel had seen Wethermill often enough these recent days with +Mme. Dauvray's pretty companion. Ruel had all a Frenchman's sympathy +with lovers. He wished them well, those two young and attractive +people, and hoped that the maid would help their plans. +</P> + +<P> +But as he passed he caught a sentence spoken suddenly by Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it is true; I must have money." And the agitated voice and words +remained fixed in his memory. He heard, too, a warning "Hush!" from the +maid. Then they passed out of his hearing. But he turned and saw that +Wethermill was talking volubly. What Harry Wethermill was saying he was +saying in a foolish burst of confidence. +</P> + +<P> +"You have guessed it, Helene—you alone." He had mortgaged his patent +twice over—once in France, once in England—and the second time had +been a month ago. He had received a large sum down, which went to pay +his pressing creditors. He had hoped to pay the sum back from a new +invention. +</P> + +<P> +"But Helene, I tell you," he said, "I have a conscience." And when she +smiled he explained. "Oh, not what the priests would call a conscience; +that I know. But none the less I have a conscience—a conscience about +the things which really matter, at all events to me. There is a flaw in +that new invention. It can be improved; I know that. But as yet I do +not see how, and—I cannot help it—I must get it right; I cannot let +it go imperfect when I know that it's imperfect, when I know that it +can be improved, when I am sure that I shall sooner or later hit upon +the needed improvement. That is what I mean when I say I have a +conscience." +</P> + +<P> +Helena Vauquier smiled indulgently. Men were queer fish. Things which +were really of no account troubled and perplexed them and gave them +sleepless nights. But it was not for her to object, since it was one of +these queer anomalies which was giving her her chance. +</P> + +<P> +"And the people are finding out that you have sold your rights twice +over," she said sympathetically. "That is a pity, monsieur." +</P> + +<P> +"They know," he answered; "those in England know." +</P> + +<P> +"And they are very angry?" +</P> + +<P> +"They threaten me," said Wethermill. "They give me a month to restore +the money. Otherwise there will be disgrace, imprisonment, penal +servitude." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier walked calmly on. No sign of the intense joy which she +felt was visible in her face, and only a trace of it in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur will, perhaps, meet me to-morrow in Geneva," she said. And she +named a small cafe in a back street. "I can get a holiday for the +afternoon." And as they were near to the villa and the lights, she +walked on ahead. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill loitered behind. He had tried his luck at the tables and had +failed. And—and—he must have the money. +</P> + +<P> +He travelled, accordingly, the next day to Geneva, and was there +presented to Adele Tace and Hippolyte. +</P> + +<P> +"They are trusted friends of mine," said Helene Vauquier to Wethermill, +who was not inspired to confidence by the sight of the young man with +the big ears and the plastered hair. As a matter of fact, she had never +met them before they came this year to Aix. +</P> + +<P> +The Tace family, which consisted of Adele and her husband and Jeanne, +her mother, were practised criminals. They had taken the house in +Geneva deliberately in order to carry out some robberies from the great +villas on the lake-side. But they had not been fortunate; and a +description of Mme. Dauvray's jewellery in the woman's column of a +Geneva newspaper had drawn Adele Tace over to Aix. She had set about +the task of seducing Mme. Dauvray's maid, and found a master, not an +instrument. +</P> + +<P> +In the small cafe on that afternoon of July Helene Vauquier instructed +her accomplices, quietly and methodically, as though what she proposed +was the most ordinary stroke of business. Once or twice subsequently +Wethermill, who was the only safe go-between, went to the house in +Geneva, altering his hair and wearing a moustache, to complete the +arrangements. He maintained firmly at his trial that at none of these +meetings was there any talk of murder. +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure," said the judge, with a savage sarcasm. "In decent +conversation there is always a reticence. Something is left to be +understood." +</P> + +<P> +And it is difficult to understand how murder could not have been an +essential part of their plan, since—-But let us see what happened. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST MOVE +</H3> + +<P> +On the Friday before the crime was committed Mme. Dauvray and Celia +dined at the Villa des Fleurs. While they were drinking their coffee +Harry Wethermill joined them. He stayed with them until Mme. Dauvray +was ready to move, and then all three walked into the baccarat rooms +together. But there, in the throng of people, they were separated. +</P> + +<P> +Harry Wethermill was looking carefully after Celia, as a good lover +should. He had, it seemed, no eyes for any one else; and it was not +until a minute or two had passed that the girl herself noticed that +Mme. Dauvray was not with them. +</P> + +<P> +"We will find her easily," said Harry. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," replied Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"There is, after all, no hurry," said Wethermill, with a laugh; "and +perhaps she was not unwilling to leave us together." +</P> + +<P> +Celia dimpled to a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Mme. Dauvray is kind to me," she said, with a very pretty timidity. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet more kind to me," said Wethermill in a low voice which brought +the blood into Celia's cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +But even while he spoke he soon caught sight of Mme. Dauvray standing +by one of the tables; and near to her was Adele Tace. Adele had not yet +made Mme. Dauvray's acquaintance; that was evident. She was apparently +unaware of her; but she was gradually edging towards her. Wethermill +smiled, and Celia caught the smile. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" she asked, and her head began to turn in the direction of +Mme. Dauvray. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I like your frock—that's all," said Wethermill at once; and +Celia's eyes went down to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you?" she said, with a pleased smile. It was a dress of dark blue +which suited her well. "I am glad. I think it is pretty." And they +passed on. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill stayed by the girl's side throughout the evening. Once again +he saw Mme. Dauvray and Adele Tace. But now they were together; now +they were talking. The first step had been taken. Adele Tace had +scraped acquaintance with Mme. Dauvray. Celia saw them almost at the +same moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there is Mme. Dauvray," she cried, taking a step towards her. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill detained the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"She seems quite happy," he said; and, indeed, Mme. Dauvray was talking +volubly and with the utmost interest, the jewels sparkling about her +neck. She raised her head, saw Celia, nodded to her affectionately, and +then pointed her out to her companion. Adele Tace looked the girl over +with interest and smiled contentedly. There was nothing to be feared +from her. Her youth, her very daintiness, seemed to offer her as the +easiest of victims. +</P> + +<P> +"You see Mme. Dauvray does not want you," said Harry Wethermill. "Let +us go and play CHEMIN-DE-FER"; and they did, moving off into one of the +further rooms. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until another hour had passed that Celia rose and went in +search of Mme. Dauvray. She found her still talking earnestly to Adele +Tace. Mme. Dauvray got up at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you ready to go, dear?" she asked, and she turned to Adele Tace. +"This is Celie, Mme. Rossignol," she said, and she spoke with a marked +significance and a note of actual exultation in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +Celia, however, was not unused to this tone. Mme. Dauvray was proud of +her companion, and had a habit of showing her off, to the girl's +discomfort. The three women spoke a few words, and then Mme. Dauvray +and Celia left the rooms and walked to the entrance-doors. But as they +walked Celia became alarmed. +</P> + +<P> +She was by nature extraordinarily sensitive to impressions. It was to +that quick receptivity that the success of "The Great Fortinbras" had +been chiefly due. She had a gift of rapid comprehension. It was not +that she argued, or deducted, or inferred. But she felt. To take a +metaphor from the work of the man she loved, she was a natural +receiver. So now, although no word was spoken, she was aware that Mme. +Dauvray was greatly excited—greatly disturbed; and she dreaded the +reason of that excitement and disturbance. +</P> + +<P> +While they were driving home in the motor-car she said apprehensively: +</P> + +<P> +"You met a friend then, to-night, madame?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Mme. Dauvray; "I made a friend. I had not met Mme. Rossignol +before. A bracelet of hers came undone, and I helped her to fasten it. +We talked afterwards. She lives in Geneva." +</P> + +<P> +Mme. Dauvray was silent for a moment or two. Then she turned +impulsively and spoke in a voice of appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"Celie, we talked of things"; and the girl moved impatiently. She +understood very well what were the things of which Mme. Dauvray and her +new friend had talked. "And she laughed. ... I could not bear it." +</P> + +<P> +Celia was silent, and Mme. Dauvray went on in a voice of awe: +</P> + +<P> +"I told her of the wonderful things which happened when I sat with +Helene in the dark—how the room filled with strange sounds, how +ghostly fingers touched my forehead and my eyes. She laughed—Adele +Rossignol laughed, Celie. I told her of the spirits with whom we held +converse. She would not believe. Do you remember the evening, Celie, +when Mme. de Castiglione came back an old, old woman, and told us how, +when she had grown old and had lost her beauty and was very lonely, she +would no longer live in the great house which was so full of torturing +memories, but took a small APPARTEMENT near by, where no one knew her; +and how she used to walk out late at night, and watch, with her eyes +full of tears, the dark windows which had been once so bright with +light? Adele Rossignol would not believe. I told her that I had found +the story afterwards in a volume of memoirs. Adele Rossignol laughed +and said no doubt you had read that volume yourself before the seance." +</P> + +<P> +Celia stirred guiltily. +</P> + +<P> +"She had no faith in you, Celie. It made me angry, dear. She said that +you invented your own tests. She sneered at them. A string across a +cupboard! A child, she said, could manage that; much more, then, a +clever young lady. Oh, she admitted that you were clever! Indeed, she +urged that you were far too clever to submit to the tests of some one +you did not know. I replied that you would. I was right, Celie, was I +not?" +</P> + +<P> +And again the appeal sounded rather piteously in Mme. Dauvray's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Tests!" said Celia, with a contemptuous laugh. And, in truth, she was +not afraid of them. Mme. Dauvray's voice at once took courage. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" she cried triumphantly. "I was sure. I told her so. Celie, I +arranged with her that next Tuesday—" +</P> + +<P> +And Celia interrupted quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"No! Oh, no!" +</P> + +<P> +Again there was silence; and then Mme. Dauvray said gently, but very +seriously: +</P> + +<P> +"Celie, you are not kind." +</P> + +<P> +Celia was moved by the reproach. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, madame!" she cried eagerly. "Please don't think that. How could I +be anything else to you who are so kind to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then prove it, Celie. On Tuesday I have asked Mme. Rossignol to come; +and—" The old woman's voice became tremulous with excitement. "And +perhaps—who knows?—perhaps SHE will appear to us." +</P> + +<P> +Celia had no doubt who "she" was. She was Mme. de Montespan. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, madame!" she stammered. "Here, at Aix, we are not in the +spirit for such things." +</P> + +<P> +And then, in a voice of dread, Mme. Dauvray asked: "Is it true, then, +what Adele said?" +</P> + +<P> +And Celia started violently. Mme. Dauvray doubted. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe it would break my heart, my dear, if I were to think that; +if I were to know that you had tricked me," she said, with a trembling +voice.</p> + +<p>Celia covered her face with her hands. It would be true. She had +no doubt of it. Mme. Dauvray would never forgive herself—would never +forgive Celia. Her infatuation had grown so to engross her that the +rest of her life would surely be embittered. It was not merely a +passion—it was a creed as well. Celia shrank from the renewal of these +seances. Every fibre in her was in revolt. They were so unworthy—so +unworthy of Harry Wethermill, and of herself as she now herself wished +to be. But she had to pay now; the moment for payment had come. +</P> + +<P> +"Celie," said Mme. Dauvray, "it isn't true! Surely it isn't true?" +</P> + +<P> +Celia drew her hands away from her face. +</P> + +<P> +"Let Mme. Rossignol come on Tuesday!" she cried, and the old woman +caught the girl's hand and pressed it with affection. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" she cried. "Adele Rossignol laughs +to-night; we shall convince her on Tuesday, Celie! Celie, I am so +glad!" And her voice sank into a solemn whisper, pathetically +ludicrous. "It is not right that she should laugh! To bring people back +through the gates of the spirit-world—that is wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +To Celia the sound of the jargon learnt from her own lips, used by +herself so thoughtlessly in past times, was odious. "For the last +time," she pleaded to herself. All her life was going to change; though +no word had yet been spoken by Harry Wethermill, she was sure of it. +Just for this one last time, then, so that she might leave Mme. Dauvray +the colours of her belief, she would hold a seance at the Villa Rose. +</P> + +<P> +Mme. Dauvray told the news to Helene Vauquier when they reached the +villa. +</P> + +<P> +"You will be present, Helene," she cried excitedly. "It will be +Tuesday. There will be the three of us." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, if madame wishes," said Helene submissively. She looked +round the room. "Mlle. Celie can be placed on a chair in that recess +and the curtains drawn, whilst we—madame and madame's friend and +I—can sit round this table under the side windows." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Celia, "that will do very well." +</P> + +<P> +It was Madame Dauvray's habit when she was particularly pleased with +Celia to dismiss her maid quickly, and to send her to brush the girl's +hair at night; and in a little while on this night Helene went to +Celia's room. While she brushed Celia's hair she told her that +Servettaz's parents lived at Chambery, and that he would like to see +them. +</P> + +<P> +"But the poor man is afraid to ask for a day," she said. "He has been +so short a time with madame." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course madame will give him a holiday if he asks," replied Celia +with a smile. "I will speak to her myself to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be kind of mademoiselle," said Helene Vauquier. "But +perhaps—" She stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps mademoiselle would do better still to speak to Servattaz +himself and encourage him to ask with his own lips. Madame has her +moods, is it not so? She does not always like it to be forgotten that +she is the mistress." +</P> + +<P> +On the next day accordingly Celia did speak to Servettaz, and Servettaz +asked for his holiday. +</P> + +<P> +"But of course," Mme. Dauvray at once replied. "We must decide upon a +day." +</P> + +<P> +It was then that Helene Vauquier ventured humbly upon a suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"Since madame has a friend coming here on Tuesday, perhaps that would +be the best day for him to go. Madame would not be likely to take a +long drive that afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"No, indeed," replied Mme. Dauvray. "We shall all three dine together +early in Aix and return here." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will tell him he may go to-morrow," said Celia. +</P> + +<P> +For this conversation took place on the Monday, and in the evening Mme. +Dauvray and Celia went as usual to the Villa des Fleurs and dined there. +</P> + +<P> +"I was in a bad mind," said Celia, when asked by the Juge d'Instruction +to explain that attack of nerves in the garden which Ricardo had +witnessed. "I hated more and more the thought of the seance which was +to take place on the morrow. I felt that I was disloyal to Harry. My +nerves were all tingling. I was not nice that night at all," she added +quaintly. "But at dinner I determined that if I met Harry after dinner, +as I was sure to do, I would tell him the whole truth about myself. +However, when I did meet him I was frightened. I knew how stern he +could suddenly look. I dreaded what he would think. I was too afraid +that I should lose him. No, I could not speak; I had not the courage. +That made me still more angry with myself, and so I—I quarrelled at +once with Harry. He was surprised; but it was natural, wasn't it? What +else should one do under such circumstances, except quarrel with the +man one loved? Yes, I really quarrelled with him, and said things which +I thought and hoped would hurt. Then I ran away from him lest I should +break down and cry. I went to the tables and lost at once all the money +I had except one note of five louis. But that did not console me. And I +ran out into the garden, very unhappy. There I behaved like a child, +and Mr. Ricardo saw me. But it was not the little money I had lost +which troubled me; no, it was the thought of what a coward I was. +Afterwards Harry and I made it up, and I thought, like the little fool +I was, that he wanted to ask me to marry him. But I would not let him +that night. Oh! I wanted him to ask me—I was longing for him to ask +me—but not that night. Somehow I felt that the seance and the tricks +must be all over and done with before I could listen or answer." +</P> + +<P> +The quiet and simple confession touched the magistrate who listened to +it with profound pity. He shaded his eyes with his hand. The girl's +sense of her unworthiness, the love she had given so unstintingly to +Harry Wethermill, the deep pride she had felt in the delusion that he +loved her too, had in it an irony too bitter. But he was aroused to +anger against the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, mademoiselle," he said. But in spite of himself his voice +trembled. +</P> + +<P> +"So I arranged with him that we should meet on Wednesday, as Mr. +Ricardo heard." +</P> + +<P> +"You told him that you would 'want him' on Wednesday," said the Judge +quoting Mr. Ricardo's words. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Celia. "I meant that the last word of all these +deceptions would have been spoken. I should be free to hear what he had +to say to me. You see, monsieur, I was so sure that I knew what it was +he had to say to me—" and her voice broke upon the words. She +recovered herself with an effort. "Then I went home with Mme. Dauvray." +</P> + +<P> +On the morning of Tuesday, however, there came a letter from Adele +Tace, of which no trace was afterwards discovered. The letter invited +Mme. Dauvray and Celia to come out to Annecy and dine with her at an +hotel there. They could then return together to Aix. The proposal +fitted well with Mme. Dauvray's inclinations. She was in a feverish +mood of excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it will be better that we dine quietly together in a place where +there is no noise and no crowd, and where no one knows us," she said; +and she looked up the time-table. "There is a train back which reaches +Aix at nine o'clock," she said, "so we need not spoil Servettaz' +holiday." +</P> + +<P> +"His parents will be expecting him," Helene Vauquier added. +</P> + +<P> +Accordingly Servettaz left for Chambery by the 1.50 train from Aix; and +later on in the afternoon Mme. Dauvray and Celia went by train to +Annecy. In the one woman's mind was the queer longing that "she" should +appear and speak to-night; in the girl's there was a wish passionate as +a cry. "This shall be the last time," she said to herself again and +again—"the very last." +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, Helene Vauquier, it must be held, burnt carefully Adele +Taces letter. She was left in the Villa Rose with the charwoman to keep +her company. The charwoman bore testimony that Helene Vauquier +certainly did burn a letter in the kitchen-stove, and that after she +had burned it she sat for a long time rocking herself in a chair, with +a smile of great pleasure upon her face, and now and then moistening +her lips with her tongue. But Helene Vauquier kept her mouth sealed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE AFTERNOON OF TUESDAY +</H3> + +<P> +Mme. Dauvray and Celia found Adele Rossignol, to give Adele Tace the +name which she assumed, waiting for them impatiently in the garden of +an hotel at Annecy, on the Promenade du Paquier. She was a tall, lithe +woman, and she was dressed, by the purse and wish of Helene Vauquier, +in a robe and a long coat of sapphire velvet, which toned down the +coarseness of her good looks and lent something of elegance to her +figure. +</P> + +<P> +"So it is mademoiselle," Adele began, with a smile of raillery, "who is +so remarkably clever." +</P> + +<P> +"Clever?" answered Celia, looking straight at Adele, as though through +her she saw mysteries beyond. She took up her part at once. Since for +the last time it had got to be played, there must be no fault in the +playing. For her own sake, for the sake of Mme. Dauvray's happiness, +she must carry it off to-night with success. The suspicions of Adele +Rossignol must obtain no verification. She spoke in a quiet and most +serious voice. "Under spirit-control no one is clever. One does the +bidding of the spirit which controls." +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," said Adele in a malicious tone. "I only hope you will see +to it, mademoiselle, that some amusing spirits control you this evening +and appear before us." +</P> + +<P> +"I am only the living gate by which the spirit forms pass from the +realm of mind into the world of matter," Celia replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," said Adele comfortably. "Now let us be sensible and dine. +We can amuse ourselves with mademoiselle's rigmaroles afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +Mme. Dauvray was indignant. Celia, for her part, felt humiliated and +small. They sat down to their dinner in the garden, but the rain began +to fall and drove them indoors. There were a few people dining at the +same hour, but none near enough to overhear them. Alike in the garden +and the dining-room, Adele Tace kept up the same note of ridicule and +disbelief. She had been carefully tutored for her work. She was able to +cite the stock cases of exposure—"LES FRERES Davenport," as she called +them, Eusapia Palladino and Dr. Slade. She knew the precautions which +had been taken to prevent trickery and where those precautions had +failed. Her whole conversation was carefully planned to one end, and to +one end alone. She wished to produce in the minds of her companions so +complete an impression of her scepticism that it would seem the most +natural thing in the world to both of them that she should insist upon +subjecting Celia to the severest tests. The rain ceased, and they took +their coffee on the terrace of the hotel. Mme. Dauvray had been really +pained by the conversation of Adele Tace. She had all the missionary +zeal of a fanatic. +</P> + +<P> +"I do hope, Adele, that we shall make you believe. But we shall. Oh, I +am confident we shall." And her voice was feverish. +</P> + +<P> +Adele dropped for the moment her tone of raillery. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not unwilling to believe," she said, "but I cannot. I am +interested—yes. You see how much I have studied the subject. But I +cannot believe. I have heard stories of how these manifestations are +produced—stories which make me laugh. I cannot help it. The tricks are +so easy. A young girl wearing a black frock which does not rustle—it +is always a black frock, is it not, because a black frock cannot be +seen in the dark?—carrying a scarf or veil, with which she can make +any sort of headdress if only she is a little clever, and shod in a +pair of felt-soled slippers, is shut up in a cabinet or placed behind a +screen, and the lights are turned down or out—" Adele broke off with a +comic shrug of the shoulders. "Bah! It ought not to deceive a child." +</P> + +<P> +Celia sat with a face which WOULD grow red. She did not look, but none +the less she was aware that Mme. Dauvray was gazing at her with a +perplexed frown and some return of her suspicion showing in her eyes. +Adele Tace was not content to leave the subject there. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," she said, with a smile, "Mlle. Celie dresses in that way for +a seance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Madame shall see to-night," Celia stammered, and Camille Dauvray rather +sternly repeated her words. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Adele shall see to-night. I myself will decide what you shall +wear, Celie." +</P> + +<P> +Adele Tace casually suggested the kind of dress which she would prefer. +</P> + +<P> +"Something light in colour with a train, something which will hiss and +whisper if mademoiselle moves about the room—yes, and I think one of +mademoiselle's big hats," she said. "We will have mademoiselle as +modern as possible, so that, when the great ladies of the past appear +in the coiffure of their day, we may be sure it is not Mlle. Celie who +represents them." +</P> + +<P> +"I will speak to Helene," said Mme. Dauvray, and Adele Tace was content. +</P> + +<P> +There was a particular new dress of which she knew, and it was very +desirable that Mlle. Celie should wear it to-night. For one thing, if +Celia wore it, it would help the theory that she had put it on because +she expected that night a lover; for another, with that dress there +went a pair of satin slippers which had just come home from a shoemaker +at Aix, and which would leave upon soft mould precisely the same +imprints as the grey suede shoes which the girl was wearing now. +</P> + +<P> +Celia was not greatly disconcerted by Mme. Rossignol's precautions. She +would have to be a little more careful, and Mme. de Montespan would be +a little longer in responding to the call of Mme. Dauvray than most of +the other dead ladies of the past had been. But that was all. She was, +however, really troubled in another way. All through dinner, at every +word of the conversation, she had felt her reluctance towards this +seance swelling into a positive disgust. More than once she had felt +driven by some uncontrollable power to rise up at the table and cry out +to Adele: +</P> + +<P> +"You are right! It IS trickery. There is no truth in it." +</P> + +<P> +But she had mastered herself. For opposite to her sat her patroness, +her good friend, the woman who had saved her. The flush upon Mme. +Dauvray's cheeks and the agitation of her manner warned Celia how much +hung upon the success of this last seance. How much for both of them! +</P> + +<P> +And in the fullness of that knowledge a great fear assailed her. She +began to be afraid, so strong was her reluctance, that she would not +bring her heart into the task. "Suppose I failed to-night because I +could not force myself to wish not to fail!" she thought, and she +steeled herself against the thought. To-night she must not fail. For +apart altogether from Mme. Dauvray's happiness, her own, it seemed, was +at stake too. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be from my lips that Harry learns what I have been," she said +to herself, and with the resolve she strengthened herself. +</P> + +<P> +"I will wear what you please," she said, with a smile. "I only wish +Mme. Rossignol to be satisfied." +</P> + +<P> +"And I shall be," said Adele, "if—" She leaned forward in anxiety. She +had come to the real necessity of Helene Vauquier's plan. "If we +abandon as quite laughable the cupboard door and the string across it; +if, in a word, mademoiselle consents that we tie her hand and foot and +fasten her securely in a chair. Such restraints are usual in the +experiments of which I have read. Was there not a medium called Mlle. +Cook who was secured in this way, and then remarkable things, which I +could not believe, were supposed to have happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I permit it," said Celia, with indifference; and Mme. +Dauvray cried enthusiastically: +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you shall believe to-night in those wonderful things!" +</P> + +<P> +Adele Tace leaned back. She drew a breath. It was a breath of relief. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we will buy the cord in Aix," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"We have some, no doubt, in the house," said Mme. Dauvray. +</P> + +<P> +Adele shook her head and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear madame, you are dealing with a sceptic. I should not be +content." +</P> + +<P> +Celia shrugged her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us satisfy Mme. Rossignol," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Celia, indeed, was not alarmed by this last precaution. For her it was +a test less difficult than the light-coloured rustling robe. She had +appeared upon so many platforms, had experienced too often the bungling +efforts of spectators called up from the audience, to be in any fear. +There were very few knots from which her small hands and supple fingers +had not learnt long since to extricate themselves. She was aware how +much in all these matters the personal equation counted. Men who might, +perhaps, have been able to tie knots from which she could not get free +were always too uncomfortable and self-conscious, or too afraid of +hurting her white arms and wrists, to do it. Women, on the other hand, +who had no compunctions of that kind, did not know how. +</P> + +<P> +It was now nearly eight o'clock; the rain still held off. +</P> + +<P> +"We must go," said Mme. Dauvray, who for the last half-hour had been +continually looking at her watch. +</P> + +<P> +They drove to the station and took the train. Once more the rain came +down, but it had stopped again before the train steamed into Aix at +nine o'clock. +</P> + +<P> +"We will take a cab," said Mme. Dauvray: "it will save time." +</P> + +<P> +"It will do us good to walk, madame," pleaded Adele. The train was +full. Adele passed quickly out from the lights of the station in the +throng of passengers and waited in the dark square for the others to +join her. "It is barely nine. A friend has promised to call at the +Villa Rose for me after eleven and drive me back in a motor-car to +Geneva, so we have plenty of time." +</P> + +<P> +They walked accordingly up the hill, Mme. Dauvray slowly, since she was +stout, and Celia keeping pace with her. Thus it seemed natural that +Adele Tace should walk ahead, though a passer-by would not have thought +she was of their company. At the corner of the Rue du Casino Adele +waited for them and said quickly: +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle, you can get some cord, I think, at the shop there," and +she pointed to the shop of M. Corval. "Madame and I will go slowly on; +you, who are the youngest, will easily catch us up." Celia went into +the shop, bought the cord, and caught Mme. Dauvray up before she +reached the villa. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Mme. Rossignol?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"She went on," said Camille Dauvray. "She walks faster than I do." +</P> + +<P> +They passed no one whom they knew, although they did pass one who +recognised them, as Perrichet had discovered. They came upon Adele, +waiting for them at the corner of the road, where it turns down toward +the villa. +</P> + +<P> +"It is near here—the Villa Rose?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"A minute more and we are there." +</P> + +<P> +They turned in at the drive, closed the gate behind them, and walked up +to the villa. +</P> + +<P> +The windows and the glass doors were closed, the latticed shutters +fastened. A light burned in the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Helene is expecting us," said Mme. Dauvray, for as they approached she +saw the front door open to admit them, and Helene Vauquier in the +doorway. The three women went straight into the little salon, which was +ready with the lights up and a small fire burning. Celia noticed the +fire with a trifle of dismay. She moved a fire-screen in front of it. +</P> + +<P> +"I can understand why you do that, mademoiselle," said Adele Rossignol, +with a satirical smile. But Mme. Dauvray came to the girl's help. +</P> + +<P> +"She is right, Adele. Light is the great barrier between us and the +spirit-world," she said solemnly. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, in the hall Helene Vauquier locked and bolted the front +door. Then she stood motionless, with a smile upon her face and a heart +beating high. All through that afternoon she had been afraid that some +accident at the last moment would spoil her plan, that Adele Tace had +not learned her lesson, that Celie would take fright, that she would +not return. Now all those fears were over. She had her victims safe +within the villa. The charwoman had been sent home. She had them to +herself. She was still standing in the hall when Mme. Dauvray called +aloud impatiently: +</P> + +<P> +"Helene! Helene!" +</P> + +<P> +And when she entered the salon there was still, as Celia was able to +recall, some trace of her smile lingering upon her face. +</P> + +<P> +Adele Rossignol had removed her hat and was taking off her gloves. Mme. +Dauvray was speaking impatiently to Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"We will arrange the room, dear, while Helene helps you to dress. It +will be quite easy. We shall use the recess." +</P> + +<P> +And Celia, as she ran up the stairs, heard Mme. Dauvray discussing with +her maid what frock she should wear. She was hot, and she took a +hurried bath. When she came from her bathroom she saw with dismay that +it was her new pale-green evening gown which had been laid out. It was +the last which she would have chosen. But she dared not refuse it. She +must still any suspicion. She must succeed. She gave herself into +Helene's hands. Celia remembered afterwards one or two points which +passed barely heeded at the time. Once while Helene was dressing her +hair she looked up at the maid in the mirror and noticed a strange and +rather horrible grin upon her face, which disappeared the moment their +eyes met. Then again, Helene was extraordinarily slow and +extraordinarily fastidious that evening. Nothing satisfied her, neither +the hang of the girl's skirt, the folds of her sash, nor the +arrangement of her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Helene, be quick," said Celia. "You know how madame hates to be +kept waiting at these times. You might be dressing me to go to meet my +lover," she added, with a blush and a smile at her own pretty +reflection in the glass; and a queer look came upon Helene Vauquier's +face. For it was at creating just this very impression that she aimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, mademoiselle," said Helene. And even as she spoke Mme. +Dauvray's voice rang shrill and irritable up the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Celie! Celie!" +</P> + +<P> +"Quick, Helene," said Celia. For she herself was now anxious to have +the seance over and done with. +</P> + +<P> +But Helene did not hurry. The more irritable Mme. Dauvray became, the +more impatient with Mlle. Celie, the less would Mlle. Celie dare to +refuse the tests Adele wished to impose upon her. But that was not all. +She took a subtle and ironic pleasure to-night in decking out her +victim's natural loveliness. Her face, her slender throat, her white +shoulders, should look their prettiest, her grace of limb and figure +should be more alluring than ever before. The same words, indeed, were +running through both women's minds. +</P> + +<P> +"For the last time," said Celia to herself, thinking of these horrible +seances, of which to-night should see the end. +</P> + +<P> +"For the last time," said Helene Vauquier too. For the last time she +laced the girl's dress. There would be no more patient and careful +service for Mlle. Celie after to-night. But she should have it and to +spare to-night. She should be conscious that her beauty had never made +so strong an appeal; that she was never so fit for life as at the +moment when the end had come. One thing Helene regretted. She would +have liked Celia—Celia, smiling at herself in the glass—to know +suddenly what was in store for her! She saw in imagination the colour +die from the cheeks, the eyes stare wide with terror. +</P> + +<P> +"Celie! Celie!" +</P> + +<P> +Again the impatient voice rang up the stairs, as Helene pinned the +girl's hat upon her fair head. Celie sprang up, took a quick step or +two towards the door, and stopped in dismay. The swish of her long +satin train must betray her. She caught up the dress and tried again. +Even so, the rustle of it was heard. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall have to be very careful. You will help me, Helene?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, mademoiselle. I will sit underneath the switch of the light +in the salon. If madame, your visitor, makes the experiment too +difficult, I will find a way to help you," said Helene Vauquier, and as +she spoke she handed Celia a long pair of white gloves. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall not want them," said Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"Mme. Dauvray ordered me to give them to you," replied Helene. +</P> + +<P> +Celia took them hurriedly, picked up a white scarf of tulle, and ran +down the stairs. Helene Vauquier listened at the door and heard +madame's voice in feverish anger. +</P> + +<P> +"We have been waiting for you, Celie. You have been an age." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier laughed softly to herself, took out Celia's white frock +from the wardrobe, turned off the lights, and followed her down to the +hall. She placed the cloak just outside the door of the salon. Then she +carefully turned out all the lights in the hall and in the kitchen and +went into the salon. The rest of the house was in darkness. This room +was brightly lit; and it had been made ready. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SEANCE +</H3> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier locked the door of the salon upon the inside and placed +the key upon the mantel-shelf, as she had always done whenever a seance +had been held. The curtains had been loosened at the sides of the +arched recess in front of the glass doors, ready to be drawn across. +Inside the recess, against one of the pillars which supported the arch, +a high stool without a back, taken from the hall, had been placed, and +the back legs of the stool had been lashed with cord firmly to the +pillar, so that it could not be moved. The round table had been put in +position, with three chairs about it. Mme. Dauvray waited impatiently. +Celia stood apparently unconcerned, apparently lost to all that was +going on. Her eyes saw no one. Adele looked up at Celia, and laughed +maliciously. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle, I see, is in the very mood to produce the most wonderful +phenomena. But it will be better, I think, madame," she said, turning +to Mme. Dauvray, "that Mlle. Celie should put on those gloves which I +see she has thrown on to a chair. It will be a little more difficult +for mademoiselle to loosen these cords, should she wish to do so." +</P> + +<P> +The argument silenced Celia. If she refused this condition now she +would excite Mme. Dauvray to a terrible suspicion. She drew on her +gloves ruefully and slowly, smoothed them over her elbows, and buttoned +them. To free her hands with her fingers and wrists already hampered in +gloves would not be so easy a task. But there was no escape. Adele +Rossignol was watching her with a satiric smile. Mme. Dauvray was +urging her to be quick. Obeying a second order the girl raised her +skirt and extended a slim foot in a pale-green silk stocking and a +satin slipper to match. Adele was content. Celia was wearing the shoes +she was meant to wear. They were made upon the very same last as those +which Celia had just kicked off upstairs. An almost imperceptible nod +from Helene Vauquier, moreover, assured her. +</P> + +<P> +She took up a length of the thin cord. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, how are we to begin?" she said awkwardly. "I think I will ask +you, mademoiselle, to put your hands behind you." +</P> + +<P> +Celia turned her back and crossed her wrists. She stood in her satin +frock, with her white arms and shoulders bare, her slender throat +supporting her small head with its heavy curls, her big hat—a picture +of young grace and beauty. She would have had an easy task that night +had there been men instead of women to put her to the test. But the +women were intent upon their own ends: Mme. Dauvray eager for her +seance, Adele Tace and Helene Vauquier for the climax of their plot. +</P> + +<P> +Celia clenched her hands to make the muscles of her wrists rigid to +resist the pressure of the cord. Adele quietly unclasped them and +placed them palm to palm. And at once Celia became uneasy. It was not +merely the action, significant though it was of Adele's alertness to +thwart her, which troubled Celia. But she was extraordinarily receptive +of impressions, extraordinarily quick to feel, from a touch, some dim +sensation of the thought of the one who touched her. So now the touch +of Adele's swift, strong, nervous hands caused her a queer, vague shock +of discomfort. It was no more than that at the moment, but it was quite +definite as that. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep your hands so, please, mademoiselle," said Adele; "your fingers +loose." +</P> + +<P> +And the next moment Celia winced and had to bite her lip to prevent a +cry. The thin cord was wound twice about her wrists, drawn cruelly +tight and then cunningly knotted. For one second Celia was thankful for +her gloves; the next, more than ever she regretted that she wore them. +It would have been difficult enough for her to free her hands now, even +without them. And upon that a worse thing befell her. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg mademoiselle's pardon if I hurt her," said Adele. +</P> + +<P> +And she tied the girl's thumbs and little fingers. To slacken the knots +she must have the use of her fingers, even though her gloves made them +fumble. Now she had lost the use of them altogether. She began to feel +that she was in master-hands. She was sure of it the next instant. For +Adele stood up, and, passing a cord round the upper part of her arms, +drew her elbows back. To bring any strength to help her in wriggling +her hands free she must be able to raise her elbows. With them trussed +in the small of her back she was robbed entirely of her strength. And +all the time her strange uneasiness grew. She made a movement of +revolt, and at once the cord was loosened. +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie objects to my tests," said Adele, with a laugh, to Mme. +Dauvray. "And I do not wonder." +</P> + +<P> +Celia saw upon the old woman's foolish and excited face a look of +veritable consternation. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you afraid, Celie?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +There was anger, there was menace in the voice, but above all these +there was fear—fear that her illusions were to tumble about her. Celia +heard that note and was quelled by it. This folly of belief, these +seances, were the one touch of colour in Mme. Dauvray's life. And it +was just that instinctive need of colour which had made her so easy to +delude. How strong the need is, how seductive the proposal to supply +it, Celia knew well. She knew it from the experience of her life when +the Great Fortinbras was at the climax of his fortunes. She had +travelled much amongst monotonous, drab towns without character or +amusements. She had kept her eyes open. She had seen that it was from +the denizens of the dull streets in these towns that the quack +religions won their recruits. Mme. Dauvray's life had been a +featureless sort of affair until these experiments had come to colour +it. Madame Dauvray must at any rate preserve the memory of that colour. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she said boldly; "I am not afraid," and after that she moved no +more. +</P> + +<P> +Her elbows were drawn firmly back and tightly bound. She was sure she +could not free them. She glanced in despair at Helene Vauquier, and +then some glimmer of hope sprang up. For Helene Vauquier gave her a +look, a smile of reassurance. It was as if she said, "I will come to +your help." Then, to make security still more sure, Adele turned the +girl about as unceremoniously as if she had been a doll, and, passing a +cord at the back of her arms, drew both ends round in front and knotted +them at her waist. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Celie," said Adele, with a vibration in her voice which Celia had +not remarked before. +</P> + +<P> +Excitement was gaining upon her, as upon Mme. Dauvray. Her face was +flushed and shiny, her manner peremptory and quick. Celia's uneasiness +grew into fear. She could have used the words which Hanaud spoke the +next day in that very room—"There is something here which I do not +understand." The touch of Adele Tace's hands communicated something to +her—something which filled her with a vague alarm. She could not have +formulated it if she would; she dared not if she could. She had but to +stand and submit. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Adele. +</P> + +<P> +She took the girl by the shoulders and set her in a clear space in the +middle of the room, her back to the recess, her face to the mirror, +where all could see her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Celie"—she had dropped the "Mlle." and the ironic suavity of her +manner—"try to free yourself." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the girl's shoulders worked, her hands fluttered. But they +remained helplessly bound. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you will be content, Adele, to-night," cried Mme. Dauvray eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +But even in the midst of her eagerness—so thoroughly had she been +prepared—there lingered a flavour of doubt, of suspicion. In Celia's +mind there was still the one desperate resolve. +</P> + +<P> +"I must succeed to-night," she said to herself—"I must!" +</P> + +<P> +Adele Rossignol kneeled on the floor behind her. She gathered in +carefully the girl's frock. Then she picked up the long train, wound it +tightly round her limbs, pinioning and swathing them in the folds of +satin, and secured the folds with a cord about the knees. +</P> + +<P> +She stood up again. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you walk, Celie?" she asked. "Try!" +</P> + +<P> +With Helene Vauquier to support her if she fell, Celia took a tiny +shuffling step forward, feeling supremely ridiculous. No one, however, +of her audience was inclined to laugh. To Mme. Dauvray the whole +business was as serious as the most solemn ceremonial. Adele was intent +upon making her knots secure. Helene Vauquier was the well-bred servant +who knew her place. It was not for her to laugh at her young mistress, +in however ludicrous a situation she might be. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Adele, "we will tie mademoiselle's ankles, and then we +shall be ready for Mme. de Montespan." +</P> + +<P> +The raillery in her voice had a note of savagery in it now. Celia's +vague terror grew. She had a feeling that a beast was waking in the +woman, and with it came a growing premonition of failure. Vainly she +cried to herself, "I must not fail to-night." But she felt +instinctively that there was a stronger personality than her own in +that room, taming her, condemning her to failure, influencing the +others. +</P> + +<P> +She was placed in a chair. Adele passed a cord round her ankles, and +the mere touch of it quickened Celia to a spasm of revolt. Her last +little remnant of liberty was being taken from her. She raised herself, +or rather would have raised herself. But Helene with gentle hands held +her in the chair, and whispered under her breath: +</P> + +<P> +"Have no fear! Madame is watching." +</P> + +<P> +Adele looked fiercely up into the girl's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep still, HEIN, LA PETITE!" she cried. And the epithet—"little +one"—was a light to Celia. Till now, upon these occasions, with her +black ceremonial dress, her air of aloofness, her vague eyes, and the +dignity of her carriage, she had already produced some part of their +effect before the seance had begun. She had been wont to sail into the +room, distant, mystical. She had her audience already expectant of +mysteries, prepared for marvels. Her work was already half done. But +now of all that help she was deprived. She was no longer a person +aloof, a prophetess, a seer of visions; she was simply a +smartly-dressed girl of to-day, trussed up in a ridiculous and painful +position—that was all. The dignity was gone. And the more she realised +that, the more she was hindered from influencing her audience, the less +able she was to concentrate her mind upon them, to will them to favour +her. Mme. Dauvray's suspicions, she was sure, were still awake. She +could not quell them. There was a stronger personality than hers at +work in the room. The cord bit through her thin stockings into her +ankles. She dared not complain. It was savagely tied. She made no +remonstrance. And then Helene Vauquier raised her up from the chair and +lifted her easily off the ground. For a moment she held her so. If +Celia had felt ridiculous before, she knew that she was ten times more +so now. She could see herself as she hung in Helene Vauquier's arms, +with her delicate frock ludicrously swathed and swaddled about her +legs. But, again, of those who watched her no one smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"We have had no such tests as these," Mme. Dauvray explained, half in +fear, half in hope. +</P> + +<P> +Adele Rossignol looked the girl over and nodded her head with +satisfaction. She had no animosity towards Celia; she had really no +feeling of any kind for her or against her. Fortunately she was unaware +at this time that Harry Wethermill had been paying his court to her or +it would have gone worse with Mlle. Celie before the night was out. +Mlle. Celie was just a pawn in a very dangerous game which she happened +to be playing, and she had succeeded in engineering her pawn into the +desired condition of helplessness. She was content. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle," she said, with a smile, "you wish me to believe. You +have now your opportunity." +</P> + +<P> +Opportunity! And she was helpless. She knew very well that she could +never free herself from these cords without Helene's help. She would +fail, miserably and shamefully fail. +</P> + +<P> +"It was madame who wished you to believe," she stammered. +</P> + +<P> +And Adele Rossignol laughed suddenly—a short, loud, harsh laugh, which +jarred upon the quiet of the room. It turned Celia's vague alarm into a +definite terror. Some magnetic current brought her grave messages of +fear. The air about her seemed to tingle with strange menaces. She +looked at Adele. Did they emanate from her? And her terror answered her +"Yes." She made her mistake in that. The strong personality in the room +was not Adele Rossignol, but Helene Vauquier, who held her like a child +in her arms. But she was definitely aware of danger, and too late aware +of it. She struggled vainly. From her head to her feet she was +powerless. She cried out hysterically to her patron: +</P> + +<P> +"Madame! Madame! There is something—a presence here—some one who +means harm! I know it!" +</P> + +<P> +And upon the old woman's face there came a look, not of alarm, but of +extraordinary relief. The genuine, heartfelt cry restored her +confidence in Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"Some one—who means harm!" she whispered, trembling with excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, mademoiselle is already under control," said Helene, using the +jargon which she had learnt from Celia's lips. +</P> + +<P> +Adele Rossignol grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, LA PETITE is under control," she repeated, with a sneer; and all +the elegance of her velvet gown was unable to hide her any longer from +Celia's knowledge. Her grin had betrayed her. She was of the dregs. But +Helene Vauquier whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Keep still, mademoiselle. I shall help you." +</P> + +<P> +Vauquier carried the girl into the recess and placed her upon the +stool. With a long cord Adele bound her by the arms and the waist to +the pillar, and her ankles she fastened to the rung of the stool, so +that they could not touch the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Thus we shall be sure that when we hear rapping it will be the +spirits, and not the heels, which rap," she said. "Yes, I am contented +now." And she added, with a smile, "Celie may even have her scarf," +and, picking up a white scarf of tulle which Celia had brought down +with her, she placed it carelessly round her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" Helene Vauquier whispered in Celia's ear. +</P> + +<P> +To the cord about Celia's waist Adele was fastening a longer line. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall keep my foot on the other end of this," she said, "when the +lights are out, and I shall know then if our little one frees herself." +</P> + +<P> +The three women went out of the recess. And the next moment the heavy +silk curtains swung across the opening, leaving Celia in darkness. +Quickly and noiselessly the poor girl began to twist and work her +hands. But she only bruised her wrists. This was to be the last of the +seances. But it must succeed! So much of Mme. Dauvray's happiness, so +much of her own, hung upon its success. Let her fail to-night, she +would be surely turned from the door. The story of her trickery and her +exposure would run through Aix. And she had not told Harry! It would +reach his ears from others. He would never forgive her. To face the +old, difficult life of poverty and perhaps starvation again, and again +alone, would be hard enough; but to face it with Harry Wethermill's +contempt added to its burdens—as the poor girl believed she surely +would have to do—no, that would be impossible! Not this time would she +turn away from the Seine, because it was so terrible and cold. If she +had had the courage to tell him yesterday, he would have forgiven, +surely he would! The tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her +cheeks. What would become of her now? She was in pain besides. The +cords about her arms and ankles tortured her. And she feared—yes, +desperately she feared the effect of the exposure upon Mme. Dauvray. +She had been treated as a daughter; now she was in return to rob Mme. +Dauvray of the belief which had become the passion of her life. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us take our seats at the table," she heard Mme. Dauvray say. +"Helene, you are by the switch of the electric light. Will you turn it +off?" And upon that Helene whispered, yet so that the whisper reached +to Celia and awakened hope: +</P> + +<P> +"Wait! I will see what she is doing." +</P> + +<P> +The curtains opened, and Helene Vauquier slipped to the girl's side. +</P> + +<P> +Celia checked her tears. She smiled imploringly, gratefully. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I do?" asked Helene, in a voice so low that the movement of +her mouth rather than the words made the question clear. +</P> + +<P> +Celia raised her head to answer. And then a thing incomprehensible to +her happened. As she opened her lips Helene Vauquier swiftly forced a +handkerchief in between the girl's teeth, and lifting the scarf from +her shoulders wound it tightly twice across her mouth, binding her +lips, and made it fast under the brim of her hat behind her head. Celia +tried to scream; she could not utter a sound. She stared at Helene with +incredulous, horror-stricken eyes. Helene nodded at her with a cruel +grin of satisfaction, and Celia realised, though she did not +understand, something of the rancour and the hatred which seethed +against her in the heart of the woman whom she had supplanted. Helene +Vauquier meant to expose her to-night; Celia had not a doubt of it. +That was her explanation of Helene Vauquier's treachery; and believing +that error, she believed yet another—that she had reached the terrible +climax of her troubles. She was only at the beginning of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Helene!" cried Mme. Dauvray sharply. "What are you doing?" +</P> + +<P> +The maid instantly slid back into the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle has not moved," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Celia heard the women settle in their chairs about the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Is madame ready?" asked Helene; and then there was the sound of the +snap of a switch. In the salon darkness had come. +</P> + +<P> +If only she had not been wearing her gloves, Celia thought, she might +possibly have just been able to free her fingers and her supple hands +from their bonds. But as it was she was helpless. She could only sit +and wait until the audience in the salon grew tired of waiting and came +to her. She closed her eyes, pondering if by any chance she could +excuse her failure. But her heart sank within her as she thought of +Mme. Rossignol's raillery. No, it was all over for her. ... +</P> + +<P> +She opened her eyes, and she wondered. It seemed to her that there was +more light in the recess than there had been when she closed them. Very +likely her eyes were growing used to the darkness. Yet—yet—she ought +not to be able to distinguish quite so clearly the white pillar +opposite to her. She looked towards the glass doors and understood. The +wooden shutters outside the doors were not quite closed. They had been +carelessly left unbolted. A chink from lintel to floor let in a grey +thread of light. Celia heard the women whispering in the salon, and +turned her head to catch the words. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you hear any sound?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Was that a hand which touched me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"We must wait." +</P> + +<P> +And so silence came again, and suddenly there was quite a rush of light +into the recess. Celia was startled. She turned her head back again +towards the window. The wooden door had swung a little more open. There +was a wider chink to let the twilight of that starlit darkness through. +And as she looked, the chink slowly broadened and broadened, the door +swung slowly back on hinges which were strangely silent. Celia stared +at the widening panel of grey light with a vague terror. It was strange +that she could hear no whisper of wind in the garden. Why, oh, why was +that latticed door opening so noiselessly? Almost she believed that the +spirits after all... And suddenly the recess darkened again, and Celia +sat with her heart leaping and shivering in her breast. There was +something black against the glass doors—a man. He had appeared as +silently, as suddenly, as any apparition. He stood blocking out the +light, pressing his face against the glass, peering into the room. For +a moment the shock of horror stunned her. Then she tore frantically at +the cords. All thought of failure, of exposure, of dismissal had fled +from her. The three poor women—that was her thought—were sitting +unwarned, unsuspecting, defenceless in the pitch-blackness of the +salon. A few feet away a man, a thief, was peering in. They were +waiting for strange things to happen in the darkness. Strange and +terrible things would happen unless she could free herself, unless she +could warn them. And she could not. Her struggles were mere efforts to +struggle, futile, a shiver from head to foot, and noiseless as a +shiver. Adele Rossignol had done her work well and thoroughly. Celia's +arms, her waist, her ankles were pinioned; only the bandage over her +mouth seemed to be loosening. Then upon horror, horror was added. The +man touched the glass doors, and they swung silently inwards. They, +too, had been carelessly left unbolted. The man stepped without a sound +over the sill into the room. And, as he stepped, fear for herself drove +out for the moment from Celia's thoughts fear for the three women in +the black room. If only he did not see her! She pressed herself against +the pillar. He might overlook her, perhaps! His eyes would not be so +accustomed to the darkness of the recess as hers. He might pass her +unnoticed—if only he did not touch some fold of her dress. +</P> + +<P> +And then, in the midst of her terror, she experienced so great a +revulsion from despair to joy that a faintness came upon her, and she +almost swooned. She saw who the intruder was. For when he stepped into +the recess he turned towards her, and the dim light struck upon him and +showed her the contour of his face. It was her lover, Harry Wethermill. +Why he had come at this hour, and in this strange way, she did not +consider. Now she must attract his eyes, now her fear was lest he +should not see her. +</P> + +<P> +But he came at once straight towards her. He stood in front of her, +looking into her eyes. But he uttered no cry. He made no movement of +surprise. Celia did not understand it. His face was in the shadow now +and she could not see it. Of course, he was stunned, amazed. +But—but—he stood almost as if he had expected to find her there and +just in that helpless attitude. It was absurd, of course, but he seemed +to look upon her helplessness as nothing out of the ordinary way. And +he raised no hand to set her free. A chill struck through her. But the +next moment he did raise his hand and the blood flowed again, at her +heart. Of course, she was in the darkness. He had not seen her plight. +Even now he was only beginning to be aware of it. For his hand touched +the bandage over her mouth—tentatively. He felt for the knot under the +broad brim of her hat at the back of her head. He found it. In a moment +she would be free. She kept her head quite still, and then—why was he +so long? she asked herself. Oh, it was not possible! But her heart +seemed to stop, and she knew that it was not only possible—it was +true: he was tightening the scarf, not loosening it. The folds bound +her lips more surely. She felt the ends drawn close at the back of her +head. In a frenzy she tried to shake her head free. But he held her +face firmly and finished his work. He was wearing gloves, she noticed +with horror, just as thieves do. Then his hands slid down her trembling +arms and tested the cord about her wrists. There was something horribly +deliberate about his movements. Celia, even at that moment, even with +him, had the sensation which had possessed her in the salon. It was the +personal equation on which she was used to rely. But neither Adele nor +this—this STRANGER was considering her as even a human being. She was +a pawn in their game, and they used her, careless of her terror, her +beauty, her pain. Then he freed from her waist the long cord which ran +beneath the curtain to Adele Rossignol's foot. Celia's first thought +was one of relief. He would jerk the cord unwittingly. They would come +into the recess and see him. And then the real truth flashed in upon +her blindingly. He had jerked the cord, but he had jerked it +deliberately. He was already winding it up in a coil as it slid +noiselessly across the polished floor beneath the curtains towards him. +He had given a signal to Adele Rossignol. All that woman's scepticism +and precaution against trickery had been a mere blind, under cover of +which she had been able to pack the girl away securely without arousing +her suspicions. Helene Vauquier was in the plot, too. The scarf at +Celia's mouth was proof of that. As if to add proof to proof, she heard +Adele Rossignol speak in answer to the signal. +</P> + +<P> +"Are we all ready? Have you got Mme. Dauvray's left hand, Helene?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, madame," answered the maid. +</P> + +<P> +"And I have her right hand. Now give me yours, and thus we are in a +circle about the table." +</P> + +<P> +Celia, in her mind, could see them sitting about the round table in the +darkness, Mme. Dauvray between the two women, securely held by them. +And she herself could not utter a cry—could not move a muscle to help +her. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill crept back on noiseless feet to the window, closed the +wooden doors, and slid the bolts into their sockets. Yes, Helene +Vauquier was in the plot. The bolts and the hinges would not have +worked so smoothly but for her. Darkness again filled the recess +instead of the grey twilight. But in a moment a faint breath of wind +played upon Celia's forehead, and she knew that the man had parted the +curtains and slipped into the room. Celia let her head fall towards her +shoulder. She was sick and faint with terror. Her lover was in this +plot—the lover in whom she had felt so much pride, for whose sake she +had taken herself so bitterly to task. He was the associate of Adele +Rossignol, of Helene Vauquier. He had used her, Celia, as an instrument +for his crime. All their hours together at the Villa des Fleurs—here +to-night was their culmination. The blood buzzed in her ears and +hammered in the veins of her temples. In front of her eyes the darkness +whirled, flecked with fire. She would have fallen, but she could not +fall. Then, in the silence, a tambourine jangled. There was to be a +seance to-night, then, and the seance had begun. In a dreadful suspense +she heard Mme. Dauvray speak. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HELENE EXPLAINS +</H3> + +<P> +And what she heard made her blood run cold. +</P> + +<P> +Mme. Dauvray spoke in a hushed, awestruck voice. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a presence in the room." +</P> + +<P> +It was horrible to Celia that the poor woman was speaking the jargon +which she herself had taught to her. +</P> + +<P> +"I will speak to it," said Mme. Dauvray, and raising her voice a +little, she asked: "Who are you that come to us from the spirit-world?" +</P> + +<P> +No answer came, but all the while Celia knew that Wethermill was +stealing noiselessly across the floor towards that voice which spoke +this professional patter with so simple a solemnity. +</P> + +<P> +"Answer!" she said. And the next moment she uttered a little shrill +cry—a cry of enthusiasm. "Fingers touch my forehead—now they touch my +cheek—now they touch my throat!" +</P> + +<P> +And upon that the voice ceased. But a dry, choking sound was heard, and +a horrible scuffling and tapping of feet upon the polished floor, a +sound most dreadful. They were murdering her—murdering an old, kind +woman silently and methodically in the darkness. The girl strained and +twisted against the pillar furiously, like an animal in a trap. But the +coils of rope held her; the scarf suffocated her. The scuffling became +a spasmodic sound, with intervals between, and then ceased altogether. +A voice spoke—a man's voice—Wethermill's. But Celia would never have +recognised it—it had so shrill and fearful an intonation. +</P> + +<P> +"That's horrible," he said, and his voice suddenly rose to a scream. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" Helene Vauquier whispered sharply. "What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"She fell against me—her whole weight. Oh!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are afraid of her!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes!" And in the darkness Wethermill's voice came querulously +between long breaths. "Yes, NOW I am afraid of her!" +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier replied again contemptuously. She spoke aloud and quite +indifferently. Nothing of any importance whatever, one would have +gathered, had occurred. +</P> + +<P> +"I will turn on the light," she said. And through the chinks in the +curtain the bright light shone. Celia heard a loud rattle upon the +table, and then fainter sounds of the same kind. And as a kind of +horrible accompaniment there ran the laboured breathing of the man, +which broke now and then with a sobbing sound. They were stripping Mme. +Dauvray of her pearl necklace, her bracelets, and her rings. Celia had +a sudden importunate vision of the old woman's fat, podgy hands loaded +with brilliants. A jingle of keys followed. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all," Helene Vauquier said. She might have just turned out the +pocket of an old dress. +</P> + +<P> +There was the sound of something heavy and inert falling with a dull +crash upon the floor. A woman laughed, and again it was Helene Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +"Which is the key of the safe?" asked Adele. +</P> + +<P> +And Helene Vauquier replied:— +</P> + +<P> +"That one." +</P> + +<P> +Celia heard some one drop heavily into a chair. It was Wethermill, and +he buried his face in his hands. Helene went over to him and laid her +hand upon his shoulder and shook him. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you go and get her jewels out of the safe," she said, and she spoke +with a rough friendliness. +</P> + +<P> +"You promised you would blindfold the girl," he cried hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I?" she said. "Well, what does it matter?"</p> + +<p>"There would have been +no need to—" And his voice broke off shudderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't there? And what of us—Adele and me? She knows certainly that +we are here. Come, go and get the jewels. The key of the door's on the +mantelshelf. While you are away we two will arrange the pretty baby in +there." +</P> + +<P> +She pointed to the recess; her voice rang with contempt. Wethermill +staggered across the room like a drunkard, and picked up the key in +trembling fingers. Celia heard it turn in the lock, and the door bang. +Wethermill had gone upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +Celia leaned back, her heart fainting within her. Arrange! It was her +turn now. She was to be "arranged." She had no doubt what sinister +meaning that innocent word concealed. The dry, choking sound, the +horrid scuffling of feet upon the floor, were in her ears. And it had +taken so long—so terribly long! +</P> + +<P> +She heard the door open again and shut again. Then steps approached the +recess. The curtains were flung back, and the two women stood in front +of her—the tall Adele Rossignol with her red hair and her coarse good +looks and her sapphire dress, and the hard-featured, sallow maid. The +maid was carrying Celia's white coat. They did not mean to murder her, +then. They meant to take her away, and even then a spark of hope lit up +in the girl's bosom. For even with her illusions crushed she still +clung to life with all the passion of her young soul. +</P> + +<P> +The two women stood and looked at her; and then Adele Rossignol burst +out laughing. Vauquier approached the girl, and Celia had a moment's +hope that she meant to free her altogether, but she only loosed the +cords which fixed her to the pillar and the high stool. +</P> + +<P> +"Mademoiselle will pardon me for laughing," said Adele Rossignol +politely; "but it was mademoiselle who invited me to try my hand. And +really, for so smart a young lady, mademoiselle looks too ridiculous." +</P> + +<P> +She lifted the girl up and carried her back writhing and struggling +into the salon. The whole of the pretty room was within view, but in +the embrasure of a window something lay dreadfully still and quiet. +Celia held her head averted. But it was there, and, though it was +there, all the while the women joked and laughed, Adele Rossignol +feverishly, Helene Vauquier with a real glee most horrible to see. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg mademoiselle not to listen to what Adele is saying," exclaimed +Helene. And she began to ape in a mincing, extravagant fashion the +manner of a saleswoman in a shop. "Mademoiselle has never looked so +ravishing. This style is the last word of fashion. It is what there is +of most CHIC. Of course, mademoiselle understands that the costume is +not intended for playing the piano. Nor, indeed, for the ballroom. It +leaps to one's eyes that dancing would be difficult. Nor is it intended +for much conversation. It is a costume for a mood of quiet reflection. +But I assure mademoiselle that for pretty young ladies who are the +favourites of rich old women it is the style most recommended by the +criminal classes." +</P> + +<P> +All the woman's bitter rancour against Celia, hidden for months beneath +a mask of humility, burst out and ran riot now. She went to Adele +Rossignol's help, and they flung the girl face downwards upon the sofa. +Her face struck the cushion at one end, her feet the cushion at the +other. The breath was struck out of her body. She lay with her bosom +heaving. +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier watched her for a moment with a grin, paying herself +now for her respectful speeches and attendance. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, lie quietly and reflect, little fool!" she said savagely. "Were +you wise to come here and interfere with Helene Vauquier? Hadn't you +better have stayed and danced in your rags at Montmartre? Are the smart +frocks and the pretty hats and the good dinners worth the price? Ask +yourself these questions, my dainty little friend!" +</P> + +<P> +She drew up a chair to Celia's side, and sat down upon it comfortably. +</P> + +<P> +"I will tell you what we are going to do with you, Mlle. Celie. Adele +Rossignol and that kind gentleman, M. Wethermill, are going to take you +away with them. You will be glad to go, won't you, dearie? For you love +M. Wethermill, don't you? Oh, they won't keep you long enough for you +to get tired of them. Do not fear! But you will not come back, Mile. +Celie. No; you have seen too much to-night. And every one will think +that Mlle. Celie helped to murder and rob her benefactress. They are +certain to suspect some one, so why not you, pretty one?" +</P> + +<P> +Celia made no movement. She lay trying to believe that no crime had +been committed, that that lifeless body did not lie against the wall. +And then she heard in the room above a bed wheeled roughly from its +place. +</P> + +<P> +The two women heard it too, and looked at one another. +</P> + +<P> +"He should look in the safe," said Vauquier. "Go and see what he is +doing." +</P> + +<P> +And Adele Rossignol ran from the room. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as she was gone Vauquier followed to the door, listened, closed +it gently, and came back. She stooped down. +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie," she said, in a smooth, silky voice, which terrified the +girl more than her harsh tones, "there is just one little thing wrong +in your appearance, one tiny little piece of bad taste, if mademoiselle +will pardon a poor servant the expression. I did not mention it before +Adele Rossignol; she is so severe in her criticism, is she not? But +since we are alone, I will presume to point out to mademoiselle that +those diamond eardrops which I see peeping out under the scarf are a +little ostentatious in her present predicament. They are a provocation +to thieves. Will mademoiselle permit me to remove them?" +</P> + +<P> +She caught her by the neck and lifted her up. She pushed the lace scarf +up at the side of Celia's head. Celia began to struggle furiously, +convulsively. She kicked and writhed, and a little tearing sound was +heard. One of her shoe-buckles had caught in the thin silk covering of +the cushion and slit it. Helene Vauquier let her fall. She felt +composedly in her pocket, and drew from it an aluminium flask—the same +flask which Lemerre was afterward to snatch up in the bedroom in +Geneva. Celia stared at her in dread. She saw the flask flashing in the +light. She shrank from it. She wondered what new horror was to grip +her. Helene unscrewed the top and laughed pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mlle. Celie is under control," she said. "We shall have to teach her +that it is not polite in young ladies to kick." She pressed Celia down +with a hand upon her back, and her voice changed. "Lie still," she +commanded savagely. "Do you hear? Do you know what this is, Mlle. +Celie?" And she held the flask towards the girl's face. "This is +vitriol, my pretty one. Move, and I'll spoil these smooth white +shoulders for you. How would you like that?" +</P> + +<P> +Celia shuddered from head to foot, and, burying her face in the +cushion, lay trembling. She would have begged for death upon her knees +rather than suffer this horror. She felt Vauquier's fingers lingering +with a dreadful caressing touch upon her shoulders and about her +throat. She was within an ace of the torture, the disfigurement, and +she knew it. She could not pray for mercy. She could only lie quite +still, as she was bidden, trying to control the shuddering of her limbs +and body. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be a good lesson for Mlle. Celie," Helene continued slowly. +"I think that if Mlle. Celie will forgive the liberty I ought to +inflict it. One little tilt of the flask and the satin of these pretty +shoulders—" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off suddenly and listened. Some sound heard outside had given +Celia a respite, perhaps more than a respite. Helene set the flask down +upon the table. Her avarice had got the better of her hatred. She +roughly plucked the earrings out of the girl's ears. She hid them +quickly in the bosom of her dress with her eye upon the door. She did +not see a drop of blood gather on the lobe of Celia's ear and fall into +the cushion on which her face was pressed. She had hardly hidden them +away before the door opened and Adele Rossignol burst into the room. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" asked Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +"The safe's empty. We have searched the room. We have found nothing," +she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything is in the safe," Helene insisted. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +The two women ran out of the room and up the stairs. Celia, lying on +the settee, heard all the quiet of the house change to noise and +confusion. It was as though a tornado raged in the room overhead. +Furniture was tossed about and over the room, feet stamped and ran, +locks were smashed in with heavy blows. For many minutes the storm +raged. Then it ceased, and she heard the accomplices clattering down +the stairs without a thought of the noise they made. They burst into +the room. Harry Wethermill was laughing hysterically, like a man off +his head. He had been wearing a long dark overcoat when he entered the +house; now he carried the coat over his arm. He was in a dinner-jacket, +and his black clothes were dusty and disordered. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all for nothing!" he screamed rather than cried. "Nothing but the +one necklace and a handful of rings!" +</P> + +<P> +In a frenzy he actually stooped over the dead woman and questioned her. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us—where did you hide them?" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl will know," said Helene. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill rose up and looked wildly at Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," he said. +</P> + +<P> +He had no scruple, no pity any longer for the girl. There was no gain +from the crime unless she spoke. He would have placed his head in the +guillotine for nothing. He ran to the writing-table, tore off half a +sheet of paper, and brought it over with a pencil to the sofa. He gave +them to Vauquier to hold, and drawing out the sofa from the wall +slipped in behind. He lifted up Celia with Rossignol's help, and made +her sit in the middle of the sofa with her feet upon the ground. He +unbound her wrists and fingers, and Vauquier placed the writing-pad and +the paper on the girl's knees. Her arms were still pinioned above the +elbows; she could not raise her hands high enough to snatch the scarf +from her lips. But with the pad held up to her she could write. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did she keep her jewels! Quick! Take the pencil and write," said +Wethermill, holding her left wrist. +</P> + +<P> +Vauquier thrust the pencil into her right hand, and awkwardly and +slowly her gloved fingers moved across the page. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know," she wrote; and, with an oath, Wethermill snatched the +paper up, tore it into pieces, and threw it down. +</P> + +<P> +"You have got to know," he said, his face purple with passion, and he +flung out his arm as though he would dash his fist into her face. But +as he stood with his arm poised there came a singular change upon his +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear anything?" he asked in a whisper. +</P> + +<P> +All listened, and all heard in the quiet of the night a faint click, +and after an interval they heard it again, and after another but +shorter interval yet once more. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the gate," said Wethermill in a whisper of fear, and a pulse of +hope stirred within Celia. +</P> + +<P> +He seized her wrists, crushed them together behind her, and swiftly +fastened them once more. Adele Rossignol sat down upon the floor, took +the girl's feet upon her lap, and quietly wrenched off her shoes. +</P> + +<P> +"The light," cried Wethermill in an agonised voice, and Helena Vauquier +flew across the room and turned it off. +</P> + +<P> +All three stood holding their breath, straining their ears in the dark +room. On the hard gravel of the drive outside footsteps became faintly +audible, and grew louder and came near. Adele whispered to Vauquier: +</P> + +<P> +"Has the girl a lover?" +</P> + +<P> +And Helene Vauquier, even at that moment, laughed quietly. +</P> + +<P> +All Celia's heart and youth rose in revolt against her extremity. If +she could only free her lips! The footsteps came round the corner of +the house, they sounded on the drive outside the very window of this +room. One cry, and she would be saved. She tossed back her head and +tried to force the handkerchief out from between her teeth. But +Wethermill's hand covered her mouth and held it closed. The footsteps +stopped, a light shone for a moment outside. The very handle of the +door was tried. Within a few yards help was there—help and life. Just +a frail latticed wooden door stood between her and them. She tried to +rise to her feet. Adele Rossignol held her legs firmly. She was +powerless. She sat with one desperate hope that, whoever it was who was +in the garden, he would break in. Were it even another murderer, he +might have more pity than the callous brutes who held her now; he could +have no less. But the footsteps moved away. It was the withdrawal of +all hope. Celia heard Wethermill behind her draw a long breath of +relief. That seemed to Celia almost the cruellest part of the whole +tragedy. They waited in the darkness until the faint click of the gate +was heard once more. Then the light was turned up again. +</P> + +<P> +"We must go," said Wethermill. All the three of them were shaken. They +stood looking at one another, white and trembling. They spoke in +whispers. To get out of the room, to have done with the business—that +had suddenly become their chief necessity. +</P> + +<P> +Adele picked up the necklace and the rings from the satin-wood table +and put them into a pocket-bag which was slung at her waist. +</P> + +<P> +"Hippolyte shall turn these things into money," she said. "He shall set +about it to-morrow. We shall have to keep the girl now—until she tells +us where the rest is hidden." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, keep her," said Helene. "We will come over to Geneva in a few +days, as soon as we can. We will persuade her to tell." She glanced +darkly at the girl. Celia shivered. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's it," said Wethermill. "But don't harm her. She will tell +of her own will. You will see. The delay won't hurt now. We can't come +back and search for a little while." +</P> + +<P> +He was speaking in a quick, agitated voice. And Adele agreed. The +desire to be gone had killed even their fury at the loss of their +prize. Some time they would come back, but they would not search +now—they were too unnerved. +</P> + +<P> +"Helene," said Wethermill, "get to bed. I'll come up with the +chloroform and put you to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +Helene Vauquier hurried upstairs. It was part of her plan that she +should be left alone in the villa chloroformed. Thus only could +suspicion be averted from herself. She did not shrink from the +completion of the plan now. She went, the strange woman, without a +tremor to her ordeal. Wethermill took the length of rope which had +fixed Celia to the pillar. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll follow," he said, and as he turned he stumbled over the body of +Mme. Dauvray. With a shrill cry he kicked it out of his way and crept +up the stairs. Adele Rossignol quickly set the room in order. She +removed the stool from its position in the recess, and carried it to +its place in the hall. She put Celia's shoes upon her feet, loosening +the cord from her ankles. Then she looked about the floor and picked up +here and there a scrap of cord. In the silence the clock upon the +mantelshelf chimed the quarter past eleven. She screwed the stopper on +the flask of vitriol very carefully, and put the flask away in her +pocket. She went into the kitchen and fetched the key of the garage. +She put her hat on her head. She even picked up and drew on her gloves, +afraid lest she should leave them behind; and then Wethermill came down +again. Adele looked at him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is all done," he said, with a nod of the head. "I will bring the +car down to the door. Then I'll drive you to Geneva and come back with +the car here." +</P> + +<P> +He cautiously opened the latticed door of the window, listened for a +moment, and ran silently down the drive. Adele closed the door again, +but she did not bolt it. She came back into the room; she looked at +Celia, as she lay back upon the settee, with a long glance of +indecision. And then, to Celia's surprise—for she had given up all +hope—the indecision in her eyes became pity. She suddenly ran across +the room and knelt down before Celia. With quick and feverish hands she +untied the cord which fastened the train of her skirt about her knees. +</P> + +<P> +At first Celia shrank away, fearing some new cruelty. But Adele's voice +came to her ears, speaking—and speaking with remorse. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't endure it!" she whispered. "You are so young—too young to be +killed." +</P> + +<P> +The tears were rolling down Celia's cheeks. Her face was pitiful and +beseeching. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't look at me like that, for God's sake, child!" Adele went on, and +she chafed the girl's ankles for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you stand?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Celia nodded her head gratefully. After all, then, she was not to die. +It seemed to her hardly possible. But before she could rise a subdued +whirr of machinery penetrated into the room, and the motor-car came +slowly to the front of the villa. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep still!" said Adele hurriedly, and she placed herself in front of +Celia. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill opened the wooden door, while Celia's heart raced in her +bosom. +</P> + +<P> +"I will go down and open the gate," he whispered. "Are you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill disappeared; and this time he left the door open. Adele +helped Celia to her feet. For a moment she tottered; then she stood +firm. +</P> + +<P> +"Now run!" whispered Adele. "Run, child, for your life!" +</P> + +<P> +Celia did not stop to think whither she should run, or how she should +escape from Wethermill's search. She could not ask that her lips and +her hands might be freed. She had but a few seconds. She had one +thought—to hide herself in the darkness of the garden. Celia fled +across the room, sprang wildly over the sill, ran, tripped over her +skirt, steadied herself, and was swung off the ground by the arms of +Harry Wethermill. +</P> + +<P> +"There we are," he said, with his shrill, wavering laugh. "I opened the +gate before." And suddenly Celia hung inert in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +The light went out in the salon. Adele Rossignol, carrying Celia's +cloak, stepped out at the side of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"She has fainted," said Wethermill. "Wipe the mould off her shoes and +off yours too—carefully. I don't want them to think this car has been +out of the garage at all." +</P> + +<P> +Adele stooped and obeyed. Wethermill opened the door of the car and +flung Celia into a seat. Adele followed and took her seat opposite the +girl. Wethermill stepped carefully again on to the grass, and with the +toe of his shoe scraped up and ploughed the impressions which he and +Adele Rossignol had made on the ground, leaving those which Celia had +made. He came back to the window. +</P> + +<P> +"She has left her footmarks clear enough," he whispered. "There will be +no doubt in the morning that she went of her own free will." +</P> + +<P> +Then he took the chauffeur's seat, and the car glided silently down the +drive and out by the gate. As soon as it was on the road it stopped. In +an instant Adele Rossignol's head was out of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" she exclaimed in fear. +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill pointed to the roof. He had left the light burning in Helene +Vauquier's room. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't go back now," said Adele in a frantic whisper. "No; it is +over. I daren't go back." And Wethermill jammed down the lever. The car +sprang forward, and humming steadily over the white road devoured the +miles. But they had made their one mistake. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GENEVA ROAD +</H3> + +<P> +The car had nearly reached Annecy before Celia woke to consciousness. +And even then she was dazed. She was only aware that she was in the +motor-car and travelling at a great speed. She lay back, drinking in +the fresh air. Then she moved, and with the movement came to her +recollection and the sense of pain. Her arms and wrists were still +bound behind her, and the cords hurt her like hot wires. Her mouth, +however, and her feet were free. She started forward, and Adele +Rossignol spoke sternly from the seat opposite. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep still. I am holding the flask in my hand. If you scream, if you +make a movement to escape, I shall fling the vitriol in your face," she +said. +</P> + +<P> +Celia shrank back, shivering. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't! I won't!" she whispered piteously. Her spirit was broken by +the horrors of the night's adventure. She lay back and cried quietly in +the darkness of the carriage. The car dashed through Annecy. It seemed +incredible to Celia that less than six hours ago she had been dining +with Mme. Dauvray and the woman opposite, who was now her jailer. Mme. +Dauvray lay dead in the little salon, and she herself—she dared not +think what lay in front of her. She was to be persuaded—that was the +word—to tell what she did not know. Meanwhile her name would be +execrated through Aix as the murderess of the woman who had saved her. +Then suddenly the car stopped. There were lights outside. Celia heard +voices. A man was speaking to Wethermill. She started and saw Adele +Tace's arm flash upwards. She sank back in terror; and the car rolled +on into the darkness. Adele Tace drew a breath of relief. The one point +of danger had been passed. They had crossed the Pont de la Caille, they +were in Switzerland. +</P> + +<P> +Some long while afterwards the car slackened its speed. By the side of +it Celia heard the sound of wheels and of the hooves of a horse. A +single-horsed closed landau had been caught up as it jogged along the +road. The motor-car stopped; close by the side of it the driver of the +landau reined in his horse. Wethermill jumped down from the chauffeur's +seat, opened the door of the landau, and then put his head in at the +window of the car. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you ready? Be quick!" +</P> + +<P> +Adele turned to Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word, remember!" +</P> + +<P> +Wethermill flung open the door of the car. Adele took the girl's feet +and drew them down to the step of the car. Then she pushed her out. +Wethermill caught her in his arms and carried her to the landau. Celia +dared not cry out. Her hands were helpless, her face at the mercy of +that grim flask. Just ahead of them the lights of Geneva were visible, +and from the lights a silver radiance overspread a patch of sky. +Wethermill placed her in the landau; Adele sprang in behind her and +closed the door. The transfer had taken no more than a few seconds. The +landau jogged into Geneva; the motor turned and sped back over the +fifty miles of empty road to Aix. +</P> + +<P> +As the motor-car rolled away, courage returned for a moment to Celia. +The man—the murderer—had gone. She was alone with Adele Rossignol in +a carriage moving no faster than an ordinary trot. Her ankles were +free, the gag had been taken from her lips. If only she could free her +hands and choose a moment when Adele was off her guard she might open +the door and spring out on to the road. She saw Adele draw down the +blinds of the carriage, and very carefully, very secretly, Celia began +to work her hands behind her. She was an adept; no movement was +visible, but, on the other hand, no success was obtained. The knots had +been too cunningly tied. And then Mme. Rossignol touched a button at +her side in the leather of the carriage. +</P> + +<P> +The touch turned on a tiny lamp in the roof of the carriage, and she +raised a warning hand to Celia. +</P> + +<P> +"Now keep very quiet." +</P> + +<P> +Right through the empty streets of Geneva the landau was quietly +driven. Adele had peeped from time to time under the blind. There were +few people in the streets. Once or twice a sergent-de-ville was seen +under the light of a lamp. Celia dared not cry out. Over against her, +persistently watching her, Adele Rossignol sat with the open flask +clenched in her hand, and from the vitriol Celia shrank with an +overwhelming terror. The carriage drove out from the town along the +western edge of the lake. +</P> + +<P> +"Now listen," said Adele. "As soon as the landau stops the door of the +house opposite to which it stops will open. I shall open the carriage +door myself and you will get out. You must stand close by the carriage +door until I have got out. I shall hold this flask ready in my hand. As +soon as I am out you will run across the pavement into the house. You +won't speak or scream." +</P> + +<P> +Adele Rossignol turned out the lamp and ten minutes later the carriage +passed down the little street and attracted Mme. Gobin's notice. Marthe +Gobin had lit no light in her room. Adele Rossignol peered out of the +carriage. She saw the houses in darkness. She could not see the +busybody's face watching the landau from a dark window. She cut the +cords which fastened the girl's hands. The carriage stopped. She opened +the door. Celia sprang out on to the pavement. She sprang so quickly +that Adele Rossignol caught and held the train of her dress. But it was +the fear of the vitriol which had made her spring so nimbly. It was +that, too, which made her run so lightly and quickly into the house. +The old woman who acted as servant, Jeanne Tace, received her. Celia +offered no resistance. The fear of vitriol had made her supple as a +glove. Jeanne hurried her down the stairs into the little parlour at +the back of the house, where supper was laid, and pushed her into a +chair. Celia let her arms fall forward on the table. She had no hope +now. She was friendless and alone in a den of murderers, who meant +first to torture, then to kill her. She would be held up to execration +as a murderess. No one would know how she had died or what she had +suffered. She was in pain, and her throat burned. She buried her face +in her arms and sobbed. All her body shook with her sobbing. Jeanne +Rossignol took no notice. She treated Celie just as the others had +done. Celia was LA PETITE, against whom she had no animosity, by whom +she was not to be touched to any tenderness. LA PETITE had +unconsciously played her useful part in their crime. But her use was +ended now, and they would deal with her accordingly. She removed the +girl's hat and cloak and tossed them aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Now stay quiet until we are ready for you," she said. And Celia, +lifting her head, said in a whisper: +</P> + +<P> +"Water!" +</P> + +<P> +The old woman poured some from a jug and held the glass to Celia's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," whispered Celia gratefully, and Adele came into the room. +She told the story of the night to Jeanne, and afterwards to Hippolyte +when he joined them. +</P> + +<P> +"And nothing gained!" cried the older woman furiously. "And we have +hardly a five-franc piece in the house." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, something," said Adele. "A necklace—a good one—some good rings, +and bracelets. And we shall find out where the rest is hid—from her." +And she nodded at Celia. +</P> + +<P> +The three people ate their supper, and, while they ate it, discussed +Celia's fate. She was lying with her head bowed upon her arms at the +same table, within a foot of them. But they made no more of her +presence than if she had been an old shoe. Only once did one of them +speak to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop your whimpering," said Hippolyte roughly. "We can hardly hear +ourselves talk." +</P> + +<P> +He was for finishing with the business altogether to-night. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a mistake," he said. "There's been a bungle, and the sooner we +are rid of it the better. There's a boat at the bottom of the garden." +</P> + +<P> +Celia listened and shuddered. He would have no more compunction over +drowning her than he would have had over drowning a blind kitten. +</P> + +<P> +"It's cursed luck," he said. "But we have got the necklace—that's +something. That's our share, do you see? The young spark can look for +the rest." +</P> + +<P> +But Helene Vauquier's wish prevailed. She was the leader. They would +keep the girl until she came to Geneva. +</P> + +<P> +They took her upstairs into the big bedroom overlooking the lake. Adele +opened the door of the closet, where a truckle-bed stood, and thrust +the girl in. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my room," she said warningly, pointing to the bedroom. "Take +care I hear no noise. You might shout yourself hoarse, my pretty one; +no one else would hear you. But I should, and afterwards—we should no +longer be able to call you 'my pretty one,' eh?" +</P> + +<P> +And with a horrible playfulness she pinched the girl's cheek. +</P> + +<P> +Then with old Jeanne's help she stripped Celia and told her to get into +bed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give her something to keep her quiet," said Adele, and she +fetched her morphia-needle and injected a dose into Celia's arm. +</P> + +<P> +Then they took her clothes away and left her in the darkness. She heard +the key turn in the lock, and a moment after the sound of the bedstead +being drawn across the doorway. But she heard no more, for almost +immediately she fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +She was awakened some time the next day by the door opening. Old Jeanne +Tace brought her in a jug of water and a roll of bread, and locked her +up again. And a long time afterwards she brought her another supply. +Yet another day had gone, but in that dark cupboard Celia had no means +of judging time. In the afternoon the newspaper came out with the +announcement that Mme. Dauvray's jewellery had been discovered under +the boards. Hippolyte brought in the newspaper, and, cursing their +stupidity, they sat down to decide upon Celia's fate. That, however, +was soon arranged. They would dress her in everything which she wore +when she came, so that no trace of her might be discovered. They would +give her another dose of morphia, sew her up in a sack as soon as she +was unconscious, row her far out on to the lake, and sink her with a +weight attached. They dragged her out from the cupboard, always with +the threat of that bright aluminium flask before her eyes. She fell +upon her knees, imploring their pity with the tears running down her +cheeks; but they sewed the strip of sacking over her face so that she +should see nothing of their preparations. They flung her on the sofa, +secured her as Hanaud had found her, and, leaving her in the old +woman's charge, sent down Adele for her needle and Hippolyte to get +ready the boat. As Hippolyte opened the door he saw the launch of the +Chef de la Surete glide along the bank. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HANAUD EXPLAINS +</H3> + +<P> +This is the story as Mr. Ricardo wrote it out from the statement of +Celia herself and the confession of Adele Rossignol. Obscurities which +had puzzled him were made clear. But he was still unaware how Hanaud +had worked out the solution. +</P> + +<P> +"You promised me that you would explain," he said, when they were both +together after the trial was over at Aix. The two men had just finished +luncheon at the Cercle and were sitting over their coffee. Hanaud +lighted a cigar. +</P> + +<P> +"There were difficulties, of course," he said; "the crime was so +carefully planned. The little details, such as the footprints, the +absence of any mud from the girl's shoes in the carriage of the +motor-car, the dinner at Annecy, the purchase of the cord, the want of +any sign of a struggle in the little salon, were all carefully thought +out. Had not one little accident happened, and one little mistake been +made in consequence, I doubt if we should have laid our hands upon one +of the gang. We might have suspected Wethermill; we should hardly have +secured him, and we should very likely never have known of the Tace +family. That mistake was, as you no doubt are fully aware—" +</P> + +<P> +"The failure of Wethermill to discover Mme. Dauvray's jewels," said +Ricardo at once. +</P> + +<P> +"No, my friend," answered Hanaud. "That made them keep Mlle. Celie +alive. It enabled us to save her when we had discovered the whereabouts +of the gang. It did not help us very much to lay our hands upon them. +No; the little accident which happened was the entrance of our friend +Perrichet into the garden while the murderers were still in the room. +Imagine that scene, M. Ricardo. The rage of the murderers at their +inability to discover the plunder for which they had risked their +necks, the old woman crumpled up on the floor against the wall, the +girl writing laboriously with fettered arms 'I do not know' under +threats of torture, and then in the stillness of the night the clear, +tiny click of the gate and the measured, relentless footsteps. No +wonder they were terrified in that dark room. What would be their one +thought? Why, to get away—to come back perhaps later, when Mlle. Celie +should have told them what, by the way, she did not know, but in any +case to get away now. So they made their little mistake, and in their +hurry they left the light burning in the room of Helene Vauquier, and +the murder was discovered seven hours too soon for them." +</P> + +<P> +"Seven hours!" said Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. The household did not rise early. It was not until seven that the +charwoman came. It was she who was meant to discover the crime. By that +time the motor-car would have been back three hours ago in its garage. +Servettaz, the chauffeur, would have returned from Chambery some time +in the morning, he would have cleaned the car, he would have noticed +that there was very little petrol in the tank, as there had been when +he had left it on the day before. He would not have noticed that some +of his many tins which had been full yesterday were empty to-day. We +should not have discovered that about four in the morning the car was +close to the Villa Rose and that it had travelled, between midnight and +five in the morning, a hundred and fifty kilometres." +</P> + +<P> +"But you had already guessed 'Geneva,'" said Ricardo. "At luncheon, +before the news came that the car was found, you had guessed it." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a shot," said Hanaud. "The absence of the car helped me to make +it. It is a large city and not very far away, a likely place for people +with the police at their heels to run to earth in. But if the car had +been discovered in the garage I should not have made that shot. Even +then I had no particular conviction about Geneva. I really wished to +see how Wethermill would take it. He was wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +"He sprang up." +</P> + +<P> +"He betrayed nothing but surprise. You showed no less surprise than he +did, my good friend. What I was looking for was one glance of fear. I +did not get it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet you suspected him—even then you spoke of brains and audacity. You +told him enough to hinder him from communicating with the red-haired +woman in Geneva. You isolated him. Yes, you suspected him." +</P> + +<P> +"Let us take the case from the beginning. When you first came to me, as +I told you, the Commissaire had already been with me. There was an +interesting piece of evidence already in his possession. Adolphe +Ruel—who saw Wethermill and Vauquier together close by the Casino and +overheard that cry of Wethermill's, 'It is true: I must have +money!'—had already been with his story to the Commissaire. I knew it +when Harry Wethermill came into the room to ask me to take up the case. +That was a bold stroke, my friend. The chances were a hundred to one +that I should not interrupt my holiday to take up a case because of +your little dinner-party in London. Indeed, I should not have +interrupted it had I not known Adolphe Ruel's story. As it was I could +not resist. Wethermill's very audacity charmed me. Oh yes, I felt that +I must pit myself against him. So few criminals have spirit, M. +Ricardo. It is deplorable how few. But Wethermill! See in what a fine +position he would have been if only I had refused. He himself had been +the first to call upon the first detective in France. And his argument! +He loved Mlle. Celie. Therefore she must be innocent! How he stuck to +it! People would have said, 'Love is blind,' and all the more they +would have suspected Mile. Celie. Yes, but they love the blind lover. +Therefore all the more would it have been impossible for them to +believe Harry Wethermill had any share in that grim crime." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo drew his chair closer in to the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I will confess to you," he said, "that I thought Mlle. Celie was an +accomplice." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not surprising," said Hanaud. "Some one within the house was an +accomplice—we start with that fact. The house had not been broken +into. There was Mlle. Celie's record as Helene Vauquier gave it to us, +and a record obviously true. There was the fact that she had got rid of +Servettaz. There was the maid upstairs very ill from the chloroform. +What more likely than that Mlle. Celie had arranged a seance, and then +when the lights were out had admitted the murderer through that +convenient glass door?" +</P> + +<P> +"There were, besides, the definite imprints of her shoes," said Mr. +Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but that is precisely where I began to feel sure that she was +innocent," replied Hanaud dryly. "All the other footmarks had been so +carefully scored and ploughed up that nothing could be made of them. +Yet those little ones remained so definite, so easily identified, and I +began to wonder why these, too, had not been cut up and stamped over. +The murderers had taken, you see, an excess of precaution to throw the +presumption of guilt upon Mlle. Celie rather than upon Vauquier. +However, there the footsteps were. Mlle. Celie had sprung from the room +as I described to Wethermill. But I was puzzled. Then in the room I +found the torn-up sheet of notepaper with the words, 'Je ne sais pas,' +in mademoiselle's handwriting. The words might have been +spirit-writing, they might have meant anything. I put them away in my +mind. But in the room the settee puzzled me. And again I was +troubled—greatly troubled." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I saw that." +</P> + +<P> +"And not you alone," said Hanaud, with a smile. "Do you remember that +loud cry Wethermill gave when we returned to the room and once more I +stood before the settee? Oh, he turned it off very well. I had said +that our criminals in France were not very gentle with their victims, +and he pretended that it was in fear of what Mlle. Celie might be +suffering which had torn that cry from his heart. But it was not so. He +was afraid—deadly afraid—not for Mlle. Celie, but for himself. He was +afraid that I had understood what these cushions had to tell me." +</P> + +<P> +"What did they tell you?" asked Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"You know now," said Hanaud. "They were two cushions, both indented, +and indented in different ways. The one at the head was irregularly +indented—something shaped had pressed upon it. It might have been a +face—it might not; and there was a little brown stain which was fresh +and which was blood. The second cushion had two separate impressions, +and between them the cushion was forced up in a thin ridge; and these +impressions were more definite. I measured the distance between the two +cushions, and I found this: that supposing—and it was a large +supposition—the cushions had not been moved since those impressions +were made, a girl of Mlle. Celie's height lying stretched out upon the +sofa would have her face pressing down upon one cushion and her feet +and insteps upon the other. Now, the impressions upon the second +cushion and the thin ridge between them were just the impressions which +might have been made by a pair of shoes held close together. But that +would not be a natural attitude for any one, and the mark upon the head +cushion was very deep. Supposing that my conjectures were true, then a +woman would only lie like that because she was helpless, because she +had been flung there, because she could not lift herself—because, in a +word, her hands were tied behind her back and her feet fastened +together. Well, then, follow this train of reasoning, my friend! +Suppose my conjectures—and we had nothing but conjectures to build +upon—were true, the woman flung upon the sofa could not be Helene +Vauquier, for she would have said so; she could have had no reason for +concealment. But it must be Mlle. Celie. There was the slit in the one +cushion and the stain on the other which, of course, I had not +accounted for. There was still, too, the puzzle of the footsteps +outside the glass doors. If Mlle. Celie had been bound upon the sofa, +how came she to run with her limbs free from the house? There was a +question—a question not easy to answer." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but there was also another question. Suppose that Mlle. Celie +was, after all, the victim, not the accomplice; suppose she had been +flung tied upon the sofa; suppose that somehow the imprint of her shoes +upon the ground had been made, and that she had afterwards been carried +away, so that the maid might be cleared of all complicity—in that case +it became intelligible why the other footprints were scored out and +hers left. The presumption of guilt would fall upon her. There would be +proof that she ran hurriedly from the room and sprang into a motor-car +of her own free will. But, again, if that theory were true, then Helene +Vauquier was the accomplice and not Mlle. Celie." +</P> + +<P> +"I follow that." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I found an interesting piece of evidence with regard to the +strange woman who came: I picked up a long red hair—a very important +piece of evidence about which I thought it best to say nothing at all. +It was not Mlle. Celie's hair, which is fair; nor Vauquier's, which is +black; nor Mme. Dauvray's, which is dyed brown; nor the charwoman's, +which is grey. It was, therefore, the visitor's. Well, we went upstairs +to Mile. Celie's room." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo eagerly. "We are coming to the pot of cream." +</P> + +<P> +"In that room we learnt that Helene Vauquier, at her own request, had +already paid it a visit. It is true the Commissaire said that he had +kept his eye on her the whole time. But none the less from the window +he saw me coming down the road, and that he could not have done, as I +made sure, unless he had turned his back upon Vauquier and leaned out +of the window. Now at the time I had an open mind about Vauquier. On +the whole I was inclined to think she had no share in the affair. But +either she or Mlle. Celie had, and perhaps both. But one of them—yes. +That was sure. Therefore I asked what drawers she touched after the +Commissaire had leaned out of the window. For if she had any motive in +wishing to visit the room she would have satisfied it when the +Commissaire's back was turned. He pointed to a drawer, and I took out a +dress and shook it, thinking that she may have wished to hide +something. But nothing fell out. On the other hand, however, I saw some +quite fresh grease-marks, made by fingers, and the marks were wet. I +began to ask myself how it was that Helene Vauquier, who had just been +helped to dress by the nurse, had grease upon her fingers. Then I +looked at a drawer which she had examined first of all. There were no +grease-marks on the clothes she had turned over before the Commissaire +leaned out of the window. Therefore it followed that during the few +seconds when he was watching me she had touched grease. I looked about +the room, and there on the dressing-table close by the chest of drawers +was a pot of cold cream. That was the grease Helene Vauquier had +touched. And why—if not to hide some small thing in it which, firstly, +she dared not keep in her own room; which, secondly, she wished to hide +in the room of Mlle. Celie; and which, thirdly, she had not had an +opportunity to hide before? Now bear those three conditions in mind, +and tell me what the small thing was." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo nodded his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I know now," he said. "You told me. The earrings of Mlle. Celie. But I +should not have guessed it at the time." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor could I—at the time," said Hanaud. "I kept my open mind about +Helene Vauquier; but I locked the door and took the key. Then we went +and heard Vauquier's story. The story was clever, because so much of it +was obviously, indisputably true. The account of the seances, of Mme. +Dauvray's superstitions, her desire for an interview with Mme. de +Montespan—such details are not invented. It was interesting, too, to +know that there had been a seance planned for that night! The method of +the murder began to be clear. So far she spoke the truth. But then she +lied. Yes, she lied, and it was a bad lie, my friend. She told us that +the strange woman Adele had black hair. Now I carried in my pocket-book +proof that that woman's hair was red. Why did she lie, except to make +impossible the identification of that strange visitor? That was the +first false step taken by Helene Vauquier. +</P> + +<P> +"Now let us take the second. I thought nothing of her rancour against +Mlle. Celie. To me it was all very natural. She—the hard peasant woman +no longer young, who had been for years the confidential servant of +Mme. Dauvray, and no doubt had taken her levy from the impostors who +preyed upon her credulous mistress—certainly she would hate this young +and pretty outcast whom she has to wait upon, whose hair she has to +dress. Vauquier—she would hate her. But if by any chance she were in +the plot—and the lie seemed to show she was—then the seances showed +me new possibilities. For Helene used to help Mlle. Celie. Suppose that +the seance had taken place, that this sceptical visitor with the red +hair professed herself dissatisfied with Vauquier's method of testing +the medium, had suggested another way, Mlle. Celie could not object, +and there she would be neatly and securely packed up beyond the power +of offering any resistance, before she could have a suspicion that +things were wrong. It would be an easy little comedy to play. And if +that were true—why, there were my sofa cushions partly explained." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I see!" cried Ricardo, with enthusiasm. "You are wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud was not displeased with his companion's enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +"But wait a moment. We have only conjectures so far, and one fact that +Helene Vauquier lied about the colour of the strange woman's hair. Now +we get another fact. Mlle. Celie was wearing buckles on her shoes. And +there is my slit in the sofa cushions. For when she is flung on to the +sofa, what will she do? She will kick, she will struggle. Of course it +is conjecture. I do not as yet hold pigheadedly to it. I am not yet +sure that Mlle. Celie is innocent. I am willing at any moment to admit +that the facts contradict my theory. But, on the contrary, each fact +that I discover helps it to take shape. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I come to Helene Vauquier's second mistake. On the evening when +you saw Mlle. Celie in the garden behind the baccarat-rooms you noticed +that she wore no jewellery except a pair of diamond eardrops. In the +photograph of her which Wethermill showed me, again she was wearing +them. Is it not, therefore, probable that she usually wore them? When I +examined her room I found the case for those earrings—the case was +empty. It was natural, then, to infer that she was wearing them when +she came down to the seance." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I read a description—a carefully written description—of the +missing girl, made by Helene Vauquier after an examination of the +girl's wardrobe. There is no mention of the earrings. So I asked +her—'Was she not wearing them?' Helene Vauquier was taken by surprise. +How should I know anything of Mlle. Celie's earrings? She hesitated. +She did not quite know what answer to make. Now, why? Since she herself +dressed Mile. Celie, and remembers so very well all she wore, why does +she hesitate? Well, there is a reason. She does not know how much I +know about those diamond eardrops. She is not sure whether we have not +dipped into that pot of cold cream and found them. Yet without knowing +she cannot answer. So now we come back to our pot of cold cream." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" cried Mr. Ricardo. "They were there." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a bit," said Hanaud. "Let us see how it works out. Remember the +conditions. Vauquier has some small thing which she must hide, and +which she wishes to hide in Mlle. Celie's room. For she admitted that +it was her suggestion that she should look through mademoiselle's +wardrobe. For what reason does she choose the girl's room, except that +if the thing were discovered that would be the natural place for it? It +is, then, something belonging to Mlle. Celie. There was a second +condition we laid down. It was something Vauquier had not been able to +hide before. It came, then, into her possession last night. Why could +she not hide it last night? Because she was not alone. There were the +man and the woman, her accomplices. It was something, then, which she +was concerned in hiding from them. It is not rash to guess, then, that +it was some piece of the plunder of which the other two would have +claimed their share—and a piece of plunder belonging to Mlle. Celie. +Well, she has nothing but the diamond eardrops. Suppose Vauquier is +left alone to guard Mlle. Celie while the other two ransack Mme. +Dauvray's room. She sees her chance. The girl cannot stir hand or foot +to save herself. Vauquier tears the eardrops in a hurry from her +ears—and there I have my drop of blood just where I should expect it +to be. But now follow this! Vauquier hides the earrings in her pocket. +She goes to bed in order to be chloroformed. She knows that it is very +possible that her room will be searched before she regains +consciousness, or before she is well enough to move. There is only one +place to hide them in, only one place where they will be safe. In bed +with her. But in the morning she must get rid of them, and a nurse is +with her. Hence the excuse to go to Mlle. Celie's room. If the eardrops +are found in the pot of cold cream, it would only be thought that Mlle. +Celie had herself hidden them there for safety. Again it is conjecture, +and I wish to make sure. So I tell Vauquier she can go away, and I +leave her unwatched. I have her driven to the depot instead of to her +friends, and searched. Upon her is found the pot of cream, and in the +cream Mlle. Celie's eardrops. She has slipped into Mlle. Celie's room, +as, if my theory was correct, she would be sure to do, and put the pot +of cream into her pocket. So I am now fairly sure that she is concerned +in the murder. +</P> + +<P> +"We then went to Mme. Dauvray's room and discovered her brilliants and +her ornaments. At once the meaning of that agitated piece of +hand-writing of Mlle. Celie's becomes clear. She is asked where the +jewels are hidden. She cannot answer, for her mouth, of course, is +stopped. She has to write. Thus my conjectures get more and more +support. And, mind this, one of the two women is guilty—Celie or +Vauquier. My discoveries all fit in with the theory of Celie's +innocence. But there remain the footprints, for which I found no +explanation. +</P> + +<P> +"You will remember I made you all promise silence as to the finding of +Mme. Dauvray's jewellery. For I thought, if they have taken the girl +away so that suspicion may fall on her and not on Vauquier, they mean +to dispose of her. But they may keep her so long as they have a chance +of finding out from her Mme. Dauvray's hiding-place. It was a small +chance but our only one. The moment the discovery of the jewellery was +published the girl's fate was sealed, were my theory true. +</P> + +<P> +"Then came our advertisement and Mme. Gobin's written testimony. There +was one small point of interest which I will take first: her statement +that Adele was the Christian name of the woman with the red hair, that +the old woman who was the servant in that house in the suburb of Geneva +called her Adele, just simply Adele. That interested me, for Helene +Vauquier had called her Adele too when she was describing to us the +unknown visitor. 'Adele' was what Mme. Dauvray called her." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier made a slip there. She should +have given her a false name." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the one slip she made in the whole of the business. Nor did she +recover herself very cleverly. For when the Commissaire pounced upon +the name, she at once modified her words. She only thought now that the +name was Adele, or something like it. But when I went on to suggest +that the name in any case would be a false one, at once she went back +upon her modifications. And now she was sure that Adele was the name +used. I remembered her hesitation when I read Marthe Gobin's letter. +They helped to confirm me in my theory that she was in the plot; and +they made me very sure that it was an Adele for whom we had to look. So +far well. But other statements in the letter puzzled me. For instance, +'She ran lightly and quickly across the pavement into the house, as +though she were afraid to be seen.' Those were the words, and the woman +was obviously honest. What became of my theory then? The girl was free +to run, free to stoop and pick up the train of her gown in her hand, +free to shout for help in the open street if she wanted help. No; that +I could not explain until that afternoon, when I saw Mlle. Celie's +terror-stricken eyes fixed upon that flask, as Lemerre poured a little +out and burnt a hole in the sack. Then I understood well enough. The +fear of vitriol!" Hanaud gave an uneasy shudder. "And it is enough to +make any one afraid! That I can tell you. No wonder she lay still as a +mouse upon the sofa in the bedroom. No wonder she ran quickly into the +house. Well, there you have the explanation. I had only my theory to +work upon even after Mme. Gobin's evidence. But as it happened it was +the right one. Meanwhile, of course, I made my inquiries into +Wethermill's circumstances. My good friends in England helped me. They +were precarious. He owed money in Aix, money at his hotel. We knew from +the motor-car that the man we were searching for had returned to Aix. +Things began to look black for Wethermill. Then you gave me a little +piece of information." +</P> + +<P> +"I!" exclaimed Ricardo, with a start. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You told me that you walked up to the hotel with Harry Wethermill +on the night of the murder and separated just before ten. A glance into +his rooms which I had—you will remember that when we had discovered +the motor-car I suggested that we should go to Harry Wethermill's rooms +and talk it over—that glance enabled me to see that he could very +easily have got out of his room on to the verandah below and escaped +from the hotel by the garden quite unseen. For you will remember that +whereas your rooms look out to the front and on to the slope of Mont +Revard, Wethermill's look out over the garden and the town of Aix. In a +quarter of an hour or twenty minutes he could have reached the Villa +Rose. He could have been in the salon before half-past ten, and that is +just the hour which suited me perfectly. And, as he got out unnoticed, +so he could return. So he did return! My friend, there are some +interesting marks upon the window-sill of Wethermill's room and upon +the pillar just beneath it. Take a look, M. Ricardo, when you return to +your hotel. But that was not all. We talked of Geneva in Mr. +Wethermill's room, and of the distance between Geneva and Aix. Do you +remember that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Ricardo. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember too that I asked him for a road-book?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; to make sure of the distance. I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but it was not to make sure of the distance that I asked for the +road-book, my friend. I asked in order to find out whether Harry +Wethermill had a road-book at all which gave a plan of the roads +between here and Geneva. And he had. He handed it to me at once and +quite naturally. I hope that I took it calmly, but I was not at all +calm inside. For it was a new road-book, which, by the way, he bought a +week before, and I was asking myself all the while—now what was I +asking myself, M. Ricardo?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Ricardo, with a smile. "I am growing wary. I will not tell +you what you were asking yourself, M. Hanaud. For even were I right you +would make out that I was wrong, and leap upon me with injuries and +gibes. No, you shall drink your coffee and tell me of your own accord." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Hanaud, laughing, "I will tell you. I was asking myself: +'Why does a man who owns no motor-car, who hires no motor-car, go out +into Aix and buy an automobilist's road-map? With what object?' And I +found it an interesting question. M. Harry Wethermill was not the man +to go upon a walking tour, eh? Oh, I was obtaining evidence. But then +came an overwhelming thing—the murder of Marthe Gobin. We know now how +he did it. He walked beside the cab, put his head in at the window, +asked, 'Have you come in answer to the advertisement?' and stabbed her +straight to the heart through her dress. The dress and the weapon which +he used would save him from being stained with her blood. He was in +your room that morning, when we were at the station. As I told you, he +left his glove behind. He was searching for a telegram in answer to +your advertisement. Or he came to sound you. He had already received +his telegram from Hippolyte. He was like a fox in a cage, snapping at +every one, twisting vainly this way and that way, risking everything +and every one to save his precious neck. Marthe Gobin was in the way. +She is killed. Mlle. Celie is a danger. So Mile. Celie must be +suppressed. And off goes a telegram to the Geneva paper, handed in by a +waiter from the cafe at the station of Chambery before five o'clock. +Wethermill went to Chambery that afternoon when we went to Geneva. Once +we could get him on the run, once we could so harry and bustle him that +he must take risks—why, we had him. And that afternoon he had to take +them." +</P> + +<P> +"So that even before Marthe Gobin was killed you were sure that +Wethermill was the murderer?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud's face clouded over. +</P> + +<P> +"You put your finger on a sore place, M. Ricardo. I was sure, but I +still wanted evidence to convict. I left him free, hoping for that +evidence. I left him free, hoping that he would commit himself. He did, +but—well, let us talk of some one else. What of Mlle. Celie?" +</P> + +<P> +Ricardo drew a letter from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"I have a sister in London, a widow," he said. "She is kind. I, too, +have been thinking of what will become of Mlle. Celie. I wrote to my +sister, and here is her reply. Mlle. Celie will be very welcome." +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud stretched out his hand and shook Ricardo's warmly. +</P> + +<P> +"She will not, I think, be for very long a burden. She is young. She +will recover from this shock. She is very pretty, very gentle. If—if +no one comes forward whom she loves and who loves her—I—yes, I +myself, who was her papa for one night, will be her husband forever." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed inordinately at his own joke; it was a habit of M. Hanaud's. +Then he said gravely: +</P> + +<P> +"But I am glad, M. Ricardo, for Mlle. Celie's sake that I came to your +amusing dinner-party in London." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ricardo was silent for a moment. Then he asked: +</P> + +<P> +"And what will happen to the condemned?" +</P> + +<P> +"To the women? Imprisonment for life." +</P> + +<P> +"And to the man?" +</P> + +<P> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps the guillotine. Perhaps New Caledonia. How can I say? I am not +the President of the Republic." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of At the Villa Rose, by A. E. W. Mason + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE VILLA ROSE *** + +***** This file should be named 4745-h.htm or 4745-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/4/4745/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. 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Mason + +Posting Date: September 11, 2009 [EBook #4745] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 12, 2002 +[Last updated: June 29, 2013] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE VILLA ROSE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +AT THE VILLA ROSE + + +A.E.W. Mason + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. SUMMER LIGHTNING + II. A CRY FOR HELP + III. PERRICHET'S STORY + IV. AT THE VILLA + V. IN THE SALON + VI. HELENE VAUQUIER'S EVIDENCE + VII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY + VIII. THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP + IX. MME. DAUVRAY'S MOTOR-CAR + X. NEWS FROM GENEVA + XI. THE UNOPENED LETTER + XII. THE ALUMINIUM FLASK + XIII. IN THE HOUSE AT GENEVA + XIV. MR. RICARDO IS BEWILDERED + XV. CELIA'S STORY + XVI. THE FIRST MOVE + XVII. THE AFTERNOON OF TUESDAY + XVIII. THE SEANCE + XIX. HELENE EXPLAINS + XX. THE GENEVA ROAD + XXI. HANAUD EXPLAINS + + + + +AT THE VILLA ROSE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SUMMER LIGHTNING + + +It was Mr. Ricardo's habit as soon as the second week of August came +round to travel to Aix-les-Bains, in Savoy, where for five or six weeks +he lived pleasantly. He pretended to take the waters in the morning, he +went for a ride in his motor-car in the afternoon, he dined at the +Cercle in the evening, and spent an hour or two afterwards in the +baccarat-rooms at the Villa des Fleurs. An enviable, smooth life +without a doubt, and it is certain that his acquaintances envied him. +At the same time, however, they laughed at him and, alas with some +justice; for he was an exaggerated person. He was to be construed in +the comparative. Everything in his life was a trifle overdone, from the +fastidious arrangement of his neckties to the feminine nicety of his +little dinner-parties. In age Mr. Ricardo was approaching the fifties; +in condition he was a widower--a state greatly to his liking, for he +avoided at once the irksomeness of marriage and the reproaches justly +levelled at the bachelor; finally, he was rich, having amassed a +fortune in Mincing Lane, which he had invested in profitable securities. + +Ten years of ease, however, had not altogether obliterated in him the +business look. Though he lounged from January to December, he lounged +with the air of a financier taking a holiday; and when he visited, as +he frequently did, the studio of a painter, a stranger would have +hesitated to decide whether he had been drawn thither by a love of art +or by the possibility of an investment. His "acquaintances" have been +mentioned, and the word is suitable. For while he mingled in many +circles, he stood aloof from all. He affected the company of artists, +by whom he was regarded as one ambitious to become a connoisseur; and +amongst the younger business men, who had never dealt with him, he +earned the disrespect reserved for the dilettante. If he had a grief, +it was that he had discovered no great man who in return for practical +favours would engrave his memory in brass. He was a Maecenas without a +Horace, an Earl of Southampton without a Shakespeare. In a word, +Aix-les-Bains in the season was the very place for him; and never for a +moment did it occur to him that he was here to be dipped in agitations, +and hurried from excitement to excitement. The beauty of the little +town, the crowd of well-dressed and agreeable people, the rose-coloured +life of the place, all made their appeal to him. But it was the Villa +des Fleurs which brought him to Aix. Not that he played for anything +more than an occasional louis; nor, on the other hand, was he merely a +cold looker-on. He had a bank-note or two in his pocket on most +evenings at the service of the victims of the tables. But the pleasure +to his curious and dilettante mind lay in the spectacle of the battle +which was waged night after night between raw nature and good manners. +It was extraordinary to him how constantly manners prevailed. There +were, however, exceptions. + +For instance. On the first evening of this particular visit he found +the rooms hot, and sauntered out into the little semicircular garden at +the back. He sat there for half an hour under a flawless sky of stars +watching the people come and go in the light of the electric lamps, and +appreciating the gowns and jewels of the women with the eye of a +connoisseur; and then into this starlit quiet there came suddenly a +flash of vivid life. A girl in a soft, clinging frock of white satin +darted swiftly from the rooms and flung herself nervously upon a bench. +She could not, to Ricardo's thinking, be more than twenty years of age. +She was certainly quite young. The supple slenderness of her figure +proved it, and he had moreover caught a glimpse, as she rushed out, of +a fresh and very pretty face; but he had lost sight of it now. For the +girl wore a big black satin hat with a broad brim, from which a couple +of white ostrich feathers curved over at the back, and in the shadow of +that hat her face was masked. All that he could see was a pair of long +diamond eardrops, which sparkled and trembled as she moved her +head--and that she did constantly. Now she stared moodily at the +ground; now she flung herself back; then she twisted nervously to the +right, and then a moment afterwards to the left; and then again she +stared in front of her, swinging a satin slipper backwards and forwards +against the pavement with the petulance of a child. All her movements +were spasmodic; she was on the verge of hysteria. Ricardo was expecting +her to burst into tears, when she sprang up and as swiftly as she had +come she hurried back into the rooms. "Summer lightning," thought Mr. +Ricardo. + +Near to him a woman sneered, and a man said, pityingly: "She was +pretty, that little one. It is regrettable that she has lost." + +A few minutes afterwards Ricardo finished his cigar and strolled back +into the rooms, making his way to the big table just on the right hand +of the entrance, where the play as a rule runs high. It was clearly +running high to-night. For so deep a crowd thronged about the table that +Ricardo could only by standing on tiptoe see the faces of the players. +Of the banker he could not catch a glimpse. But though the crowd +remained, its units were constantly changing, and it was not long +before Ricardo found himself standing in the front rank of the +spectators, just behind the players seated in the chairs. The oval +green table was spread out beneath him littered with bank-notes. +Ricardo turned his eyes to the left, and saw seated at the middle of +the table the man who was holding the bank. Ricardo recognised him with +a start of surprise. He was a young Englishman, Harry Wethermill, who, +after a brilliant career at Oxford and at Munich, had so turned his +scientific genius to account that he had made a fortune for himself at +the age of twenty-eight. + +He sat at the table with the indifferent look of the habitual player +upon his cleanly chiselled face. But it was plain that his good fortune +stayed at his elbow to-night, for opposite to him the croupier was +arranging with extraordinary deftness piles of bank-notes in the order +of their value. The bank was winning heavily. Even as Ricardo looked +Wethermill turned up "a natural," and the croupier swept in the stakes +from either side. + +"Faites vos jeux, messieurs. Le jeu est fait?" the croupier cried, all +in a breath, and repeated the words. Wethermill waited with his hand +upon the wooden frame in which the cards were stacked. He glanced round +the table while the stakes were being laid upon the cloth, and suddenly +his face flashed from languor into interest. Almost opposite to him a +small, white-gloved hand holding a five-louis note was thrust forward +between the shoulders of two men seated at the table. Wethermill leaned +forward and shook his head with a smile. With a gesture he refused the +stake. But he was too late. The fingers of the hand had opened, the +note fluttered down on to the cloth, the money was staked. + +At once he leaned back in his chair. + +"Il y a une suite," he said quietly. He relinquished the bank rather +than play against that five-louis note. The stakes were taken up by +their owners. + +The croupier began to count Wethermill's winnings, and Ricardo, curious +to know whose small, delicately gloved hand it was which had brought +the game to so abrupt a termination, leaned forward. He recognised the +young girl in the white satin dress and the big black hat whose nerves +had got the better of her a few minutes since in the garden. He saw her +now clearly, and thought her of an entrancing loveliness. She was +moderately tall, fair of skin, with a fresh colouring upon her cheeks +which she owed to nothing but her youth. Her hair was of a light brown +with a sheen upon it, her forehead broad, her eyes dark and wonderfully +clear. But there was something more than her beauty to attract him. He +had a strong belief that somewhere, some while ago, he had already seen +her. And this belief grew and haunted him. He was still vaguely +puzzling his brains to fix the place when the croupier finished his +reckoning. + +"There are two thousand louis in the bank," he cried. "Who will take on +the bank for two thousand louis?" + +No one, however, was willing. A fresh bank was put up for sale, and +Wethermill, still sitting in the dealer's chair, bought it. He spoke at +once to an attendant, and the man slipped round the table, and, forcing +his way through the crowd, carried a message to the girl in the black +hat. She looked towards Wethermill and smiled; and the smile made her +face a miracle of tenderness. Then she disappeared, and in a few +moments Ricardo saw a way open in the throng behind the banker, and she +appeared again only a yard or two away, just behind Wethermill. He +turned, and taking her hand into his, shook it chidingly. + +"I couldn't let you play against me, Celia," he said, in English; "my +luck's too good to-night. So you shall be my partner instead. I'll put +in the capital and we'll share the winnings." + +The girl's face flushed rosily. Her hand still lay clasped in his. She +made no effort to withdraw it. + +"I couldn't do that," she exclaimed. + +"Why not?" said he. "See!" and loosening her fingers he took from them +the five-louis note and tossed it over to the croupier to be added to +his bank. "Now you can't help yourself. We're partners." + +The girl laughed, and the company at the table smiled, half in +sympathy, half with amusement. A chair was brought for her, and she sat +down behind Wethermill, her lips parted, her face joyous with +excitement. But all at once Wethermill's luck deserted him. He renewed +his bank three times, and had lost the greater part of his winnings +when he had dealt the cards through. He took a fourth bank, and rose +from that, too, a loser. + +"That's enough, Celia," he said. "Let us go out into the garden; it +will be cooler there." + +"I have taken your good luck away," said the girl remorsefully. +Wethermill put his arm through hers. + +"You'll have to take yourself away before you can do that," he +answered, and the couple walked together out of Ricardo's hearing. + +Ricardo was left to wonder about Celia. She was just one of those +problems which made Aix-les-Bains so unfailingly attractive to him. She +dwelt in some street of Bohemia; so much was clear. The frankness of +her pleasure, of her excitement, and even of her distress proved it. +She passed from one to the other while you could deal a pack of cards. +She was at no pains to wear a mask. Moreover, she was a young girl of +nineteen or twenty, running about those rooms alone, as unembarrassed +as if she had been at home. There was the free use, too, of Christian +names. Certainly she dwelt in Bohemia. But it seemed to Ricardo that +she could pass in any company and yet not be overpassed. She would look +a little more picturesque than most girls of her age, and she was +certainly a good deal more soignee than many, and she had the +Frenchwoman's knack of putting on her clothes. But those would be all +the differences, leaving out the frankness. Ricardo wondered in what +street of Bohemia she dwelt. He wondered still more when he saw her +again half an hour afterwards at the entrance to the Villa des Fleurs. +She came down the long hall with Harry Wethermill at her side. The +couple were walking slowly, and talking as they walked with so complete +an absorption in each other that they were unaware of their +surroundings. At the bottom of the steps a stout woman of fifty-five +over-jewelled, and over-dressed and raddled with paint, watched their +approach with a smile of good-humoured amusement. When they came near +enough to hear she said in French: + +"Well, Celie, are you ready to go home?" + +The girl looked up with a start. + +"Of course, madame," she said, with a certain submissiveness which +surprised Ricardo. "I hope I have not kept you waiting." + +She ran to the cloak-room, and came back again with her cloak. + +"Good-bye, Harry," she said, dwelling upon his name and looking out +upon him with soft and smiling eyes. + +"I shall see you to-morrow evening," he said, holding her hand. Again +she let it stay within his keeping, but she frowned, and a sudden +gravity settled like a cloud upon her face. She turned to the elder +woman with a sort of appeal. + +"No, I do not think we shall be here, to-morrow, shall we, madame?" she +said reluctantly. + +"Of course not," said madame briskly. "You have not forgotten what we +have planned? No, we shall not be here to-morrow; but the night +after--yes." + +Celia turned back again to Wethermill. + +"Yes, we have plans for to-morrow," she said, with a very wistful note +of regret in her voice; and seeing that madame was already at the door, +she bent forward and said timidly, "But the night after I shall want +you." + +"I shall thank you for wanting me," Wethermill rejoined; and the girl +tore her hand away and ran up the steps. + +Harry Wethermill returned to the rooms. Mr. Ricardo did not follow him. +He was too busy with the little problem which had been presented to him +that night. What could that girl, he asked himself, have in common with +the raddled woman she addressed so respectfully? Indeed, there had been +a note of more than respect in her voice. There had been something of +affection. Again Mr. Ricardo found himself wondering in what street in +Bohemia Celia dwelt--and as he walked up to the hotel there came yet +other questions to amuse him. + +"Why," he asked, "could neither Celia nor madame come to the Villa des +Fleurs to-morrow night? What are the plans they have made? And what was +it in those plans which had brought the sudden gravity and reluctance +into Celia's face?" + +Ricardo had reason to remember those questions during the next few +days, though he only idled with them now. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A CRY FOR HELP + + +It was on a Monday evening that Ricardo saw Harry Wethermill and the +girl Celia together. On the Tuesday he saw Wethermill in the rooms +alone and had some talk with him. + +Wethermill was not playing that night, and about ten o'clock the two +men left the Villa des Fleurs together. + +"Which way do you go?" asked Wethermill. + +"Up the hill to the Hotel Majestic," said Ricardo. + +"We go together, then. I, too, am staying there," said the young man, +and they climbed the steep streets together. Ricardo was dying to put +some questions about Wethermill's young friend of the night before, but +discretion kept him reluctantly silent. They chatted for a few moments +in the hall upon indifferent topics and so separated for the night. Mr. +Ricardo, however, was to learn something more of Celia the next +morning; for while he was fixing his tie before the mirror Wethermill +burst into his dressing-room. Mr. Ricardo forgot his curiosity in the +surge of his indignation. Such an invasion was an unprecedented outrage +upon the gentle tenor of his life. The business of the morning toilette +was sacred. To interrupt it carried a subtle suggestion of anarchy. +Where was his valet? Where was Charles, who should have guarded the +door like the custodian of a chapel? + +"I cannot speak to you for at least another half-hour," said Mr. +Ricardo, sternly. + +But Harry Wethermill was out of breath and shaking with agitation. + +"I can't wait," he cried, with a passionate appeal. "I have got to see +you. You must help me, Mr. Ricardo--you must, indeed!" + +Ricardo spun round upon his heel. At first he had thought that the help +wanted was the help usually wanted at Aix-les-Bains. A glance at +Wethermills face, however, and the ringing note of anguish in his +voice, told him that the thought was wrong. Mr. Ricardo slipped out of +his affectations as out of a loose coat. "What has happened?" he asked +quietly. + +"Something terrible." With shaking fingers Wethermill held out a +newspaper. "Read it," he said. + +It was a special edition of a local newspaper, Le Journal de Savoie, +and it bore the date of that morning. + +"They are crying it in the streets," said Wethermill. "Read!" + +A short paragraph was printed in large black letters on the first page, +and leaped to the eyes. + +"Late last night," it ran, "an appalling murder was committed at the +Villa Rose, on the road to Lac Bourget. Mme. Camille Dauvray, an +elderly, rich woman who was well known at Aix, and had occupied the +villa every summer for the last few years, was discovered on the floor +of her salon, fully dressed and brutally strangled, while upstairs, her +maid, Helene Vauquier, was found in bed, chloroformed, with her hands +tied securely behind her back. At the time of going to press she had +not recovered consciousness, but the doctor, Emile Peytin, is in +attendance upon her, and it is hoped that she will be able shortly to +throw some light on this dastardly affair. The police are properly +reticent as to the details of the crime, but the following statement +may be accepted without hesitation: + +"The murder was discovered at twelve o'clock at night by the +sergent-de-ville Perrichet, to whose intelligence more than a word of +praise is due, and it is obvious from the absence of all marks upon the +door and windows that the murderer was admitted from within the villa. +Meanwhile Mme. Dauvray's motor-car has disappeared, and with it a young +Englishwoman who came to Aix with her as her companion. The motive of +the crime leaps to the eyes. Mme. Dauvray was famous in Aix for her +jewels, which she wore with too little prudence. The condition of the +house shows that a careful search was made for them, and they have +disappeared. It is anticipated that a description of the young +Englishwoman, with a reward for her apprehension, will be issued +immediately. And it is not too much to hope that the citizens of Aix, +and indeed of France, will be cleared of all participation in so cruel +and sinister a crime." + +Ricardo read through the paragraph with a growing consternation, and +laid the paper upon his dressing-table. + +"It is infamous," cried Wethermill passionately. + +"The young Englishwoman is, I suppose, your friend Miss Celia?" said +Ricardo slowly. + +Wethermill started forward. + +"You know her, then?" he cried in amazement. + +"No; but I saw her with you in the rooms. I heard you call her by that +name." + +"You saw us together?" exclaimed Wethermill. "Then you can understand +how infamous the suggestion is." + +But Ricardo had seen the girl half an hour before he had seen her with +Harry Wethermill. He could not but vividly remember the picture of her +as she flung herself on to the bench in the garden in a moment of +hysteria, and petulantly kicked a satin slipper backwards and forwards +against the stones. She was young, she was pretty, she had a charm of +freshness, but--but--strive against it as he would, this picture in the +recollection began more and more to wear a sinister aspect. He +remembered some words spoken by a stranger. "She is pretty, that little +one. It is regrettable that she has lost." + +Mr. Ricardo arranged his tie with even a greater deliberation than he +usually employed. + +"And Mme. Dauvray?" he asked. "She was the stout woman with whom your +young friend went away?" + +"Yes," said Wethermill. + +Ricardo turned round from the mirror. + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Hanaud is at Aix. He is the cleverest of the French detectives. You +know him. He dined with you once." + +It was Mr. Ricardo's practice to collect celebrities round his +dinner-table, and at one such gathering Hanaud and Wethermill had been +present together. + +"You wish me to approach him?" + +"At once." + +"It is a delicate position," said Ricardo. "Here is a man in charge of +a case of murder, and we are quietly to go to him--" + +To his relief Wethermill interrupted him. + +"No, no," he cried; "he is not in charge of the case. He is on his +holiday. I read of his arrival two days ago in the newspaper. It was +stated that he came for rest. What I want is that he should take charge +of the case." + +The superb confidence of Wethermill shook Mr. Ricardo for a moment, but +his recollections were too clear. + +"You are going out of your way to launch the acutest of French +detectives in search of this girl. Are you wise, Wethermill?" + +Wethermill sprang up from his chair in desperation. + +"You, too, think her guilty! You have seen her. You think her +guilty--like this detestable newspaper, like the police." + +"Like the police?" asked Ricardo sharply. + +"Yes," said Harry Wethermill sullenly. "As soon as I saw that rag I ran +down to the villa. The police are in possession. They would not let me +into the garden. But I talked with one of them. They, too, think that +she let in the murderers." + +Ricardo took a turn across the room. Then he came to a stop in front of +Wethermill. + +"Listen to me," he said solemnly. "I saw this girl half an hour before +I saw you. She rushed out into the garden. She flung herself on to a +bench. She could not sit still. She was hysterical. You know what that +means. She had been losing. That's point number one." + +Mr. Ricardo ticked it off upon his finger. + +"She ran back into the rooms. You asked her to share the winnings of +your bank. She consented eagerly. And you lost. That's point number +two. A little later, as she was going away, you asked her whether she +would be in the rooms the next night--yesterday night--the night when +the murder was committed. Her face clouded over. She hesitated. She +became more than grave. There was a distinct impression as though she +shrank from the contemplation of what it was proposed she should do on +the next night. And then she answered you, 'No, we have other plans.' +That's number three." And Mr. Ricardo ticked off his third point. + +"Now," he asked, "do you still ask me to launch Hanaud upon the case?" + +"Yes, and at once," cried Wethermill. + +Ricardo called for his hat and his stick. + +"You know where Hanaud is staying?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied Wethermill, and he led Ricardo to an unpretentious +little hotel in the centre of the town. Ricardo sent in his name, and +the two visitors were immediately shown into a small sitting-room, +where M. Hanaud was enjoying his morning chocolate. He was stout and +broad-shouldered, with a full and almost heavy face. In his morning +suit at his breakfast-table he looked like a prosperous comedian. + +He came forward with a smile of welcome, extending both his hands to +Mr. Ricardo. + +"Ah, my good friend," he said, "it is pleasant to see you. And Mr. +Wethermill," he exclaimed, holding a hand out to the young inventor. + +"You remember me, then?" said Wethermill gladly. + +"It is my profession to remember people," said Hanaud, with a laugh. +"You were at that amusing dinner-party of Mr. Ricardo's in Grosvenor +Square." + +"Monsieur," said Wethermill, "I have come to ask your help." + +The note of appeal in his voice was loud. M. Hanaud drew up a chair by +the window and motioned to Wethermill to take it. He pointed to +another, with a bow of invitation to Mr. Ricardo. + +"Let me hear," he said gravely. + +"It is the murder of Mme. Dauvray," said Wethermill. + +Hanaud started. + +"And in what way, monsieur," he asked, "are you interested in the +murder of Mme. Dauvray?" + +"Her companion," said Wethermill, "the young English girl--she is a +great friend of mine." + +Hanaud's face grew stern. Then came a sparkle of anger in his eyes. + +"And what do you wish me to do, monsieur?" he asked coldly. + +"You are upon your holiday, M. Hanaud. I wish you--no, I implore you," +Wethermill cried, his voice ringing with passion, "to take up this +case, to discover the truth, to find out what has become of Celia." + +Hanaud leaned back in his chair with his hands upon the arms. He did +not take his eyes from Harry Wethermill, but the anger died out of them. + +"Monsieur," he said, "I do not know what your procedure is in England. +But in France a detective does not take up a case or leave it alone +according to his pleasure. We are only servants. This affair is in the +hands of M. Fleuriot, the Juge d'instruction of Aix." + +"But if you offered him your help it would be welcomed," cried +Wethermill. "And to me that would mean so much. There would be no +bungling. There would be no waste of time. Of that one would be sure." + +Hanaud shook his head gently. His eyes were softened now by a look of +pity. Suddenly he stretched out a forefinger. + +"You have, perhaps, a photograph of the young lady in that card-case in +your breast-pocket." + +Wethermill flushed red, and, drawing out the card-case, handed the +portrait to Hanaud. Hanaud looked at it carefully for a few moments. + +"It was taken lately, here?" he asked. + +"Yes; for me," replied Wethermill quietly. + +"And it is a good likeness?" + +"Very." + +"How long have you known this Mlle. Celie?" he asked. + +Wethermill looked at Hanaud with a certain defiance. + +"For a fortnight." + +Hanaud raised his eyebrows. + +"You met her here?" + +"Yes." + +"In the rooms, I suppose? Not at the house of one of your friends?" + +"That is so," said Wethermill quietly. "A friend of mine who had met +her in Paris introduced me to her at my request." + +Hanaud handed back the portrait and drew forward his chair nearer to +Wethermill. His face had grown friendly. He spoke with a tone of +respect. + +"Monsieur, I know something of you. Our friend, Mr. Ricardo, told me +your history; I asked him for it when I saw you at his dinner. You are +of those about whom one does ask questions, and I know that you are not +a romantic boy, but who shall say that he is safe from the appeal of +beauty? I have seen women, monsieur, for whose purity of soul I would +myself have stood security, condemned for complicity in brutal crimes +on evidence that could not be gainsaid; and I have known them turn +foul-mouthed, and hideous to look upon, the moment after their just +sentence has been pronounced." + +"No doubt, monsieur," said Wethermill, with perfect quietude. "But +Celia Harland is not one of those women." + +"I do not now say that she is," said Hanaud. "But the Juge +d'instruction here has already sent to me to ask for my assistance, and +I refused. I replied that I was just a good bourgeois enjoying his +holiday. Still it is difficult quite to forget one's profession. It was +the Commissaire of Police who came to me, and naturally I talked with +him for a little while. The case is dark, monsieur, I warn you." + +"How dark?" asked Harry Wethermill. + +"I will tell you," said Hanaud, drawing his chair still closer to the +young man. "Understand this in the first place. There was an accomplice +within the villa. Some one let the murderers in. There is no sign of an +entrance being forced; no lock was picked, there is no mark of a thumb +on any panel, no sign of a bolt being forced. There was an accomplice +within the house. We start from that." + +Wethermill nodded his head sullenly. Ricardo drew his chair up towards +the others. But Hanaud was not at that moment interested in Ricardo. + +"Well, then, let us see who there are in Mme. Dauvray's household. The +list is not a long one. It was Mme. Dauvray's habit to take her +luncheon and her dinner at the restaurants, and her maid was all that +she required to get ready her 'petit dejeuner' in the morning and her +'sirop' at night. Let us take the members of the household one by one. +There is first the chauffeur, Henri Servettaz. He was not at the villa +last night. He came back to it early this morning." + +"Ah!" said Ricardo, in a significant exclamation. Wethermill did not +stir. He sat still as a stone, with a face deadly white and eyes +burning upon Hanaud's face. + +"But wait," said Hanaud, holding up a warning hand to Ricardo. +"Servettaz was in Chambery, where his parents live. He travelled to +Chambery by the two o'clock train yesterday. He was with them in the +afternoon. He went with them to a cafe in the evening. Moreover, early +this morning the maid, Helene Vauquier, was able to speak a few words +in answer to a question. She said Servettaz was in Chambery. She gave +his address. A telephone message was sent to the police in that town, +and Servettaz was found in bed. I do not say that it is impossible that +Servettaz was concerned in the crime. That we shall see. But it is +quite clear, I think, that it was not he who opened the house to the +murderers, for he was at Chambery in the evening, and the murder was +already discovered here by midnight. Moreover--it is a small point--he +lives, not in the house, but over the garage in a corner of the garden. +Then besides the chauffeur there was a charwoman, a woman of Aix, who +came each morning at seven and left in the evening at seven or eight. +Sometimes she would stay later if the maid was alone in the house, for +the maid is nervous. But she left last night before nine--there is +evidence of that--and the murder did not take place until afterwards. +That is also a fact, not a conjecture. We can leave the charwoman, who +for the rest has the best of characters, out of our calculations. There +remain then, the maid, Helene Vauquier, and"--he shrugged his +shoulders--"Mlle. Celie." + +Hanaud reached out for the matches and lit a cigarette. + +"Let us take first the maid, Helene Vauquier. Forty years old, a +Normandy peasant woman--they are not bad people, the Normandy peasants, +monsieur--avaricious, no doubt, but on the whole honest and most +respectable. We know something of Helene Vauquier, monsieur. See!" and +he took up a sheet of paper from the table. The paper was folded +lengthwise, written upon only on the inside. "I have some details here. +Our police system is, I think, a little more complete than yours in +England. Helene Vauquier has served Mme. Dauvray for seven years. She +has been the confidential friend rather than the maid. And mark this, +M. Wethermill! During those seven years how many opportunities has she +had of conniving at last night's crime? She was found chloroformed and +bound. There is no doubt that she was chloroformed. Upon that point Dr. +Peytin is quite, quite certain. He saw her before she recovered +consciousness. She was violently sick on awakening. She sank again into +unconsciousness. She is only now in a natural sleep. Besides those +people, there is Mlle. Celie. Of her, monsieur, nothing is known. You +yourself know nothing of her. She comes suddenly to Aix as the +companion of Mme. Dauvray--a young and pretty English girl. How did she +become the companion of Mme. Dauvray?" + +Wethermill stirred uneasily in his seat. His face flushed. To Mr. +Ricardo that had been from the beginning the most interesting problem +of the case. Was he to have the answer now? + +"I do not know," answered Wethermill, with some hesitation, and then it +seemed that he was at once ashamed of his hesitation. His accent +gathered strength, and in a low but ringing voice, he added: "But I say +this. You have told me, M. Hanaud, of women who looked innocent and +were guilty. But you know also of women and girls who can live +untainted and unspoilt amidst surroundings which are suspicious." + +Hanaud listened, but he neither agreed nor denied. He took up a second +slip of paper. + +"I shall tell you something now of Mme. Dauvray," he said. "We will not +take up her early history. It might not be edifying and, poor woman, +she is dead. Let us not go back beyond her marriage seventeen years ago +to a wealthy manufacturer of Nancy, whom she had met in Paris. Seven +years ago M. Dauvray died, leaving his widow a very rich woman. She had +a passion for jewellery, which she was now able to gratify. She +collected jewels. A famous necklace, a well-known stone--she was not, +as you say, happy till she got it. She had a fortune in precious +stones--oh, but a large fortune! By the ostentation of her jewels she +paraded her wealth here, at Monte Carlo, in Paris. Besides that, she +was kind-hearted and most impressionable. Finally, she was, like so +many of her class, superstitious to the degree of folly." + +Suddenly Mr. Ricardo started in his chair. Superstitious! The word was +a sudden light upon his darkness. Now he knew what had perplexed him +during the last two days. Clearly--too clearly--he remembered where he +had seen Celia Harland, and when. A picture rose before his eyes, and +it seemed to strengthen like a film in a developing-dish as Hanaud +continued: + +"Very well! take Mme. Dauvray as we find her--rich, ostentatious, +easily taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly superstitious--and +you have in her a living provocation to every rogue. By a hundred +instances she proclaimed herself a dupe. She threw down a challenge to +every criminal to come and rob her. For seven years Helene Vauquier +stands at her elbow and protects her from serious trouble. Suddenly +there is added to her--your young friend, and she is robbed and +murdered. And, follow this, M. Wethermill, our thieves are, I think, +more brutal to their victims than is the case with you." + +Wethermill shut his eyes in a spasm of pain and the pallor of his face +increased. + +"Suppose that Celia were one of the victims?" he cried in a stifled +voice. + +Hanaud glanced at him with a look of commiseration. + +"That perhaps we shall see," he said. "But what I meant was this. A +stranger like Mlle. Celie might be the accomplice in such a crime as +the crime of the Villa Rose, meaning only robbery. A stranger might +only have discovered too late that murder would be added to the theft." + +Meanwhile, in strong, clear colours, Ricardo's picture stood out before +his eyes. He was startled by hearing Wethermill say, in a firm voice: + +"My friend Ricardo has something to add to what you have said." + +"I!" exclaimed Ricardo. How in the world could Wethermill know of that +clear picture in his mind? + +"Yes. You saw Celia Harland on the evening before the murder." + +Ricardo stared at his friend. It seemed to him that Harry Wethermill +had gone out of his mind. Here he was corroborating the suspicions of +the police by facts--damning and incontrovertible facts. + +"On the night before the murder," continued Wethermill quietly, "Celia +Harland lost money at the baccarat-table. Ricardo saw her in the garden +behind the rooms, and she was hysterical. Later on that same night he +saw her again with me, and he heard what she said. I asked her to come +to the rooms on the next evening--yesterday, the night of the +crime--and her face changed, and she said, 'No, we have other plans for +to-morrow. But the night after I shall want you.'" + +Hanaud sprang up from his chair. + +"And YOU tell me these two things!" he cried. + +"Yes," said Wethermill. "You were kind enough to say to me I was not a +romantic boy. I am not. I can face facts." + +Hanaud stared at his companion for a few moments. Then, with a +remarkable air of consideration, he bowed. + +"You have won, monsieur," he said. "I will take up this case. But," and +his face grew stern and he brought his fist down upon the table with a +bang, "I shall follow it to the end now, be the consequences bitter as +death to you." + +"That is what I wish, monsieur," said Wethermill. + +Hanaud locked up the slips of paper in his lettercase. Then he went out +of the room and returned in a few minutes. + +"We will begin at the beginning," he said briskly. "I have telephoned +to the Depot. Perrichet, the sergent-de-ville who discovered the crime, +will be here at once. We will walk down to the villa with him, and on +the way he shall tell us exactly what he discovered and how he +discovered it. At the villa we shall find Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge +d'instruction, who has already begun his examination, and the +Commissaire of Police. In company with them we will inspect the villa. +Except for the removal of Mme. Dauvray's body from the salon to her +bedroom and the opening of the windows, the house remains exactly as it +was." + +"We may come with you?" cried Harry Wethermill eagerly. + +"Yes, on one condition--that you ask no questions, and answer none +unless I put them to you. Listen, watch, examine--but no interruptions!" + +Hanaud's manner had altogether changed. It was now authoritative and +alert. He turned to Ricardo. + +"You will swear to what you saw in the garden and to the words you +heard?" he asked. "They are important." + +"Yes," said Ricardo. + +But he kept silence about that clear picture in his mind which to him +seemed no less important, no less suggestive. + +The Assembly Hall at Leamington, a crowded audience chiefly of ladies, +a platform at one end on which a black cabinet stood. A man, erect and +with something of the soldier in his bearing, led forward a girl, +pretty and fair-haired, who wore a black velvet dress with a long, +sweeping train. She moved like one in a dream. Some half-dozen people +from the audience climbed on to the platform, tied the girl's hands +with tape behind her back, and sealed the tape. She was led to the +cabinet, and in full view of the audience fastened to a bench. Then the +door of the cabinet was closed, the people upon the platform descended +into the body of the hall, and the lights were turned very low. The +audience sat in suspense, and then abruptly in the silence and the +darkness there came the rattle of a tambourine from the empty platform. +Rappings and knockings seemed to flicker round the panels of the hall, +and in the place where the door of the cabinet should be there appeared +a splash of misty whiteness. The whiteness shaped itself dimly into the +figure of a woman, a face dark and Eastern became visible, and a deep +voice spoke in a chant of the Nile and Antony. Then the vision faded, +the tambourines and cymbals rattled again. The lights were turned up, +the door of the cabinet thrown open, and the girl in the black velvet +dress was seen fastened upon the bench within. + +It was a spiritualistic performance at which Julius Ricardo had been +present two years ago. The young, fair-haired girl in black velvet, the +medium, was Celia Harland. + +That was the picture which was in Ricardo's mind, and Hanaud's +description of Mme. Dauvray made a terrible commentary upon it. "Easily +taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly superstitious, a living +provocation to every rogue." Those were the words, and here was a +beautiful girl of twenty versed in those very tricks of imposture which +would make Mme. Dauvray her natural prey! + +Ricardo looked at Wethermill, doubtful whether he should tell what he +knew of Celia Harland or not. But before he had decided a knock came +upon the door. + +"Here is Perrichet," said Hanaud, taking up his hat. "We will go down +to the Villa Rose." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PERRICHET'S STORY + + +Perrichet was a young, thick-set man, with a red, fair face, and a +moustache and hair so pale in colour that they were almost silver. He +came into the room with an air of importance. + +"Aha!" said Hanaud, with a malicious smile. "You went to bed late last +night, my friend. Yet you were up early enough to read the newspaper. +Well, I am to have the honour of being associated with you in this +case." + +Perrichet twirled his cap awkwardly and blushed. + +"Monsieur is pleased to laugh at me," he said. "But it was not I who +called myself intelligent. Though indeed I would like to be so, for the +good God knows I do not look it." + +Hanaud clapped him on the shoulder. + +"Then congratulate yourself! It is a great advantage to be intelligent +and not to look it. We shall get on famously. Come!" + +The four men descended the stairs, and as they walked towards the villa +Perrichet related, concisely and clearly, his experience of the night. + +"I passed the gate of the villa about half-past nine," he said. "The +gate was closed. Above the wall and bushes of the garden I saw a bright +light in the room upon the first floor which faces the road at the +south-western comer of the villa. The lower windows I could not see. +More than an hour afterwards I came back, and as I passed the villa +again I noticed that there was now no light in the room upon the first +floor, but that the gate was open. I thereupon went into the garden, +and, pulling the gate, let it swing to and latch. But it occurred to me +as I did so that there might be visitors at the villa who had not yet +left, and for whom the gate had been set open. I accordingly followed +the drive which winds round to the front door. The front door is not on +the side of the villa which faces the road, but at the back. When I +came to the open space where the carriages turn, I saw that the house +was in complete darkness. There were wooden latticed doors to the long +windows on the ground floor, and these were closed. I tried one to make +certain, and found the fastenings secure. The other windows upon that +floor were shuttered. No light gleamed anywhere. I then left the +garden, closing the gate behind me. I heard a clock strike the hour a +few minutes afterwards, so that I can be sure of the time. It was now +eleven o'clock. I came round a third time an hour after, and to my +astonishment I found the gate once more open. I had left it closed and +the house shut up and dark. Now it stood open! I looked up to the +windows and I saw that in a room on the second floor, close beneath the +roof, a light was burning brightly. That room had been dark an hour +before. I stood and watched the light for a few minutes, thinking that +I should see it suddenly go out. But it did not: it burned quite +steadily. This light and the gate opened and reopened aroused my +suspicions. I went again into the garden, but this time with greater +caution. It was a clear night, and, although there was no moon, I could +see without the aid of my lantern. I stole quietly along the drive. +When I came round to the front door, I noticed immediately that the +shutters of one of the ground-floor windows were swung back, and that +the inside glass window which descended to the ground stood open. The +sight gave me a shock. Within the house those shutters had been opened. +I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins and a chill crept along my +spine. I thought of that solitary light burning steadily under the +roof. I was convinced that something terrible had happened." + +"Yes, yes. Quite so," said Hanaud. "Go on, my friend." + +"The interior of the room gaped black," Perrichet resumed. "I crept up +to the window at the side of the wall and flashed my lantern into the +room. The window, however, was in a recess which opened into the room +through an arch, and at each side of the arch curtains were draped. The +curtains were not closed, but between them I could see nothing but a +strip of the room. I stepped carefully in, taking heed not to walk on +the patch of grass before the window. The light of my lantern showed me +a chair overturned upon the floor, and to my right, below the middle +one of the three windows in the right-hand side wall, a woman lying +huddled upon the floor. It was Mme. Dauvray. She was dressed. There was +a little mud upon her shoes, as though she had walked after the rain +had ceased. Monsieur will remember that two heavy showers fell last +evening between six and eight." + +"Yes," said Hanaud, nodding his approval. + +"She was quite dead. Her face was terribly swollen and black, and a +piece of thin strong cord was knotted so tightly about her neck and had +sunk so deeply into her flesh that at first I did not see it. For Mme. +Dauvray was stout." + +"Then what did you do?" asked Hanaud. + +"I went to the telephone which was in the hall and rang up the police. +Then I crept upstairs very cautiously, trying the doors. I came upon no +one until I reached the room under the roof where the light was +burning; there I found Helene Vauquier, the maid, snoring in bed in a +terrible fashion." + +The four men turned a bend in the road. A few paces away a knot of +people stood before a gate which a sergent-de-ville guarded. + +"But here we are at the villa," said Hanaud. + +They all looked up and, from a window at the corner upon the first +floor a man looked out and drew in his head. + +"That is M. Besnard, the Commissaire of our police in Aix," said +Perrichet. + +"And the window from which he looked," said Hanaud, "must be the window +of that room in which you saw the bright light at half-past nine on +your first round?" + +"Yes, m'sieur," said Perrichet; "that is the window." + +They stopped at the gate. Perrichet spoke to the sergent-de-ville, who +at once held the gate open. The party passed into the garden of the +villa. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE VILLA + + +The drive curved between trees and high bushes towards the back of the +house, and as the party advanced along it a small, trim, soldier-like +man, with a pointed beard, came to meet them. It was the man who had +looked out from the window, Louis Besnard, the Commissaire of Police. + +"You are coming, then, to help us, M. Hanaud!" he cried, extending his +hands. "You will find no jealousy here; no spirit amongst us of +anything but good will; no desire except one to carry out your +suggestions. All we wish is that the murderers should be discovered. +Mon Dieu, what a crime! And so young a girl to be involved in it! But +what will you?" + +"So you have already made your mind up on that point!" said Hanaud +sharply. + +The Commissaire shrugged his shoulders. + +"Examine the villa and then judge for yourself whether any other +explanation is conceivable," he said; and turning, he waved his hand +towards the house. Then he cried, "Ah!" and drew himself into an +attitude of attention. A tall, thin man of about forty-five years, +dressed in a frock coat and a high silk hat, had just come round an +angle of the drive and was moving slowly towards them. He wore the +soft, curling brown beard of one who has never used a razor on his +chin, and had a narrow face with eyes of a very light grey, and a round +bulging forehead. + +"This is the Juge d'Instruction?" asked Hanaud. + +"Yes; M. Fleuriot," replied Louis Besnard in a whisper. + +M. Fleuriot was occupied with his own thoughts, and it was not until +Besnard stepped forward noisily on the gravel that he became aware of +the group in the garden. + +"This is M. Hanaud, of the Surete in Paris," said Louis Besnard. + +M. Fleuriot bowed with cordiality. + +"You are very welcome, M. Hanaud. You will find that nothing at the +villa has been disturbed. The moment the message arrived over the +telephone that you were willing to assist us I gave instructions that +all should be left as we found it. I trust that you, with your +experience, will see a way where our eyes find none." + +Hanaud bowed in reply. + +"I shall do my best, M. Fleuriot. I can say no more," he said. + +"But who are these gentlemen?" asked Fleuriot, waking, it seemed, now +for the first time to the presence of Harry Wethermill and Mr. Ricardo. + +"They are both friends of mine," replied Hanaud. "If you do not object +I think their assistance may be useful. Mr. Wethermill, for instance, +was acquainted with Celia Harland." + +"Ah!" cried the judge; and his face took on suddenly a keen and eager +look. "You can tell me about her perhaps?" + +"All that I know I will tell readily," said Harry Wethermill. + +Into the light eyes of M. Fleuriot there came a cold, bright gleam. He +took a step forward. His face seemed to narrow to a greater sharpness. +In a moment, to Mr. Ricardo's thought, he ceased to be the judge; he +dropped from his high office; he dwindled into a fanatic. + +"She is a Jewess, this Celia Harland?" he cried. + +"No, M. Fleuriot, she is not," replied Wethermill. "I do not speak in +disparagement of that race, for I count many friends amongst its +members. But Celia Harland is not one of them." + +"Ah!" said Fleuriot; and there was something of disappointment, +something, too, of incredulity, in his voice. "Well, you will come and +report to me when you have made your investigation." And he passed on +without another question or remark. + +The group of men watched him go, and it was not until he was out of +earshot that Besnard turned with a deprecating gesture to Hanaud. + +"Yes, yes, he is a good judge, M. Hanaud--quick, discriminating, +sympathetic; but he has that bee in his bonnet, like so many others. +Everywhere he must see l'affaire Dreyfus. He cannot get it out of his +head. No matter how insignificant a woman is murdered, she must have +letters in her possession which would convict Dreyfus. But you know! +There are thousands like that--good, kindly, just people in the +ordinary ways of life, but behind every crime they see the Jew." + +Hanaud nodded his head. + +"I know; and in a Juge d'Instruction it is very embarrassing. Let us +walk on." + +Half-way between the gate and the villa a second carriage-road struck +off to the left, and at the entrance to it stood a young, stout man in +black leggings. + +"The chauffeur?" asked Hanaud. "I will speak to him." + +The Commissaire called the chauffeur forward. + +"Servettaz," he said, "you will answer any questions which monsieur may +put to you." + +"Certainly, M. le Commissaire," said the chauffeur. His manner was +serious, but he answered readily. There was no sign of fear upon his +face. + +"How long have you been with Mme. Dauvray?" Hanaud asked. + +"Four months, monsieur. I drove her to Aix from Paris." + +"And since your parents live at Chambery you wished to seize the +opportunity of spending a day with them while you were so near?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"When did you ask for permission?" + +"On Saturday, monsieur." + +"Did you ask particularly that you should have yesterday, the Tuesday?" + +"No, monsieur; I asked only for a day whenever it should be convenient +to madame." + +"Quite so," said Hanaud. "Now, when did Mme. Dauvray tell you that you +might have Tuesday?" + +Servettaz hesitated. His face became troubled. When he spoke, he spoke +reluctantly. + +"It was not Mme. Dauvray, monsieur, who told me that I might go on +Tuesday," he said. + +"Not Mme. Dauvray! Who was it, then?" Hanaud asked sharply. + +Servettaz glanced from one to another of the grave faces which +confronted him. + +"It was Mlle. Celie," he said, "who told me." + +"Oh!" said Hanaud, slowly. "It was Mlle. Celie. When did she tell you?" + +"On Monday morning, monsieur. I was cleaning the car. She came to the +garage with some flowers in her hand which she had been cutting in the +garden, and she said: 'I was right, Alphonse. Madame has a kind heart. +You can go to-morrow by the train which leaves Aix at 1.52 and arrives +at Chambery at nine minutes after two.'" + +Hanaud started. + +"'I was right, Alphonse.' Were those her words? And 'Madame has a kind +heart.' Come, come, what is all this?" He lifted a warning finger and +said gravely, "Be very careful, Servettaz." + +"Those were her words, monsieur." + +"'I was right, Alphonse. Madame has a kind heart'?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Then Mlle. Celie had spoken to you before about this visit of yours to +Chambery," said Hanaud, with his eyes fixed steadily upon the +chauffeur's face. The distress upon Servettaz's face increased. +Suddenly Hanaud's voice rang sharply. "You hesitate. Begin at the +beginning. Speak the truth, Servettaz!" + +"Monsieur, I am speaking the truth," said the chauffeur. "It is true I +hesitate ... I have heard this morning what people are saying ... I do +not know what to think. Mlle. Celie was always kind and thoughtful for +me ... But it is true"--and with a kind of desperation he went +on--"yes, it is true that it was Mlle. Celie who first suggested to me +that I should ask for a day to go to Chambery." + +"When did she suggest it?" + +"On the Saturday." + +To Mr. Ricardo the words were startling. He glanced with pity towards +Wethermill. Wethermill, however, had made up his mind for good and all. +He stood with a dogged look upon his face, his chin thrust forward, his +eyes upon the chauffeur. Besnard, the Commissaire, had made up his +mind, too. He merely shrugged his shoulders. Hanaud stepped forward and +laid his hand gently on the chauffeur's arm. + +"Come, my friend," he said, "let us hear exactly how this happened!" + +"Mlle. Celie," said Servettaz, with genuine compunction in his voice, +"came to the garage on Saturday morning and ordered the car for the +afternoon. She stayed and talked to me for a little while, as she often +did. She said that she had been told that my parents lived at Chambery, +and since I was so near I ought to ask for a holiday. For it would not +be kind if I did not go and see them." + +"That was all?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Very well." And the detective resumed at once his brisk voice and +alert manner. He seemed to dismiss Servettaz's admission from his mind. +Ricardo had the impression of a man tying up an important document +which for the moment he has done with, and putting it away ticketed in +some pigeon-hole in his desk. "Let us see the garage!" + +They followed the road between the bushes until a turn showed them the +garage with its doors open. + +"The doors were found unlocked?" + +"Just as you see them." + +Hanaud nodded. He spoke again to Servettaz. "What did you do with the +key on Tuesday?" + +"I gave it to Helene Vauquier, monsieur, after I had locked up the +garage. And she hung it on a nail in the kitchen." + +"I see," said Hanaud. "So any one could easily, have found it last +night?" + +"Yes, monsieur--if one knew where to look for it." + +At the back of the garage a row of petrol-tins stood against the brick +wall. + +"Was any petrol taken?" asked Hanaud. + +"Yes, monsieur; there was very little petrol in the car when I went +away. More was taken, but it was taken from the middle tins--these." +And he touched the tins. + +"I see," said Hanaud, and he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. The +Commissaire moved with impatience. + +"From the middle or from the end--what does it matter?" he exclaimed. +"The petrol was taken." + +Hanaud, however, did not dismiss the point so lightly. + +"But it is very possible that it does matter," he said gently. "For +example, if Servettaz had had no reason to examine his tins it might +have been some while before he found out that the petrol had been +taken." + +"Indeed, yes," said Servettaz. "I might even have forgotten that I had +not used it myself." + +"Quite so," said Hanaud, and he turned to Besnard. "I think +that may be important. I do not know," he said. + +"But since the car is gone," cried Besnard, "how could the chauffeur +not look immediately at his tins?" + +The question had occurred to Ricardo, and he wondered in what way +Hanaud meant to answer it. Hanaud, however, did not mean to answer it. +He took little notice of it at all. He put it aside with a superb +indifference to the opinion which his companions might form of him. + +"Ah, yes," he said, carelessly. "Since the car is gone, as you say, +that is so." And he turned again to Servettaz. + +"It was a powerful car?" he asked. + +"Sixty horse-power," said Servettaz. + +Hanaud turned to the Commissaire. + +"You have the number and description, I suppose? It will be as well to +advertise for it. It may have been seen; it must be somewhere." + +The Commissaire replied that the description had already been printed, +and Hanaud, with a nod of approval, examined the ground. In front of +the garage there was a small stone courtyard, but on its surface there +was no trace of a footstep. + +"Yet the gravel was wet," he said, shaking his head. "The man who +fetched that car fetched it carefully." + +He turned and walked back with his eyes upon the ground. Then he ran to +the grass border between the gravel and the bushes. + +"Look!" he said to Wethermill; "a foot has pressed the blades of grass +down here, but very lightly--yes, and there again. Some one ran along +the border here on his toes. Yes, he was very careful." + +They turned again into the main drive, and, following it for a few +yards, came suddenly upon a space in front of the villa. It was a small +toy pleasure-house, looking on to a green lawn gay with flower-beds. It +was built of yellow stone, and was almost square in shape. A couple of +ornate pillars flanked the door, and a gable roof, topped by a gilt +vane, surmounted it. To Ricardo it seemed impossible that so sordid and +sinister a tragedy had taken place within its walls during the last +twelve hours. It glistened so gaudily in the blaze of sunlight. Here +and there the green outer shutters were closed; here and there the +windows stood open to let in the air and light. Upon each side of the +door there was a window lighting the hall, which was large; beyond +those windows again, on each side, there were glass doors opening to +the ground and protected by the ordinary green latticed shutters of +wood, which now stood hooked back against the wall. These glass doors +opened into rooms oblong in shape, which ran through towards the back +of the house, and were lighted in addition by side windows. The room +upon the extreme left, as the party faced the villa, was the +dining-room, with the kitchen at the back; the room on the right was +the salon in which the murder had been committed. In front of the glass +door to this room a strip of what had once been grass stretched to the +gravel drive. But the grass had been worn away by constant use, and the +black mould showed through. This strip was about three yards wide, and +as they approached they saw, even at a distance, that since the rain of +last night it had been trampled down. + +"We will go round the house first," said Hanaud, and he turned along +the side of the villa and walked in the direction of the road. There +were four windows just above his head, of which three lighted the +salon, and the fourth a small writing-room behind it. Under these +windows there was no disturbance of the ground, and a careful +investigation showed conclusively that the only entrance used had been +the glass doors of the salon facing the drive. To that spot, then, they +returned. There were three sets of footmarks upon the soil. One set ran +in a distinct curve from the drive to the side of the door, and did not +cross the others. + +"Those," said Hanaud, "are the footsteps of my intelligent friend, +Perrichet, who was careful not to disturb the ground." + +Perrichet beamed all over his rosy face, and Besnard nodded at him with +condescending approval. + +"But I wish, M. le Commissaire"--and Hanaud pointed to a blur of +marks--"that your other officers had been as intelligent. Look! These +run from the glass door to the drive, and, for all the use they are to +us, a harrow might have been dragged across them." + +Besnard drew himself up. + +"Not one of my officers has entered the room by way of this door. The +strictest orders were given and obeyed. The ground, as you see it, is +the ground as it was at twelve o'clock last night." + +Hanaud's face grew thoughtful. + +"Is that so?" he said, and he stooped to examine the second set of +marks. They were at the righthand side of the door. "A woman and a +man," he said. "But they are mere hints rather than prints. One might +almost think--" He rose up without finishing his sentence, and he +turned to the third set and a look of satisfaction gleamed upon his +face. "Ah! here is something more interesting," he said. + +There were just three impressions; and, whereas the blurred marks were +at the side, these three pointed straight from the middle of the glass +doors to the drive. They were quite clearly defined, and all three were +the impressions made by a woman's small, arched, high-heeled shoe. The +position of the marks was at first sight a little peculiar. There was +one a good yard from the window, the impression of the right foot, and +the pressure of the sole of the shoe was more marked than that of the +heel. The second, the impression of the left foot, was not quite so far +from the first as the first was from the window, and here again the +heel was the more lightly defined. But there was this difference--the +mark of the toe, which was pointed in the first instance, was, in this, +broader and a trifle blurred. Close beside it the right foot was again +visible; only now the narrow heel was more clearly defined than the +ball of the foot. It had, indeed, sunk half an inch into the soft +ground. There were no further imprints. Indeed, these two were not +merely close together, they were close to the gravel of the drive and +on the very border of the grass. + +Hanaud looked at the marks thoughtfully. Then he turned to the +Commissaire. + +"Are there any shoes in the house which fit those marks?" + +"Yes. We have tried the shoes of all the women--Celie Harland, the +maid, and even Mme. Dauvray. The only ones which fit at all are those +taken from Celie Harland's bedroom." + +He called to an officer standing in the drive, and a pair of grey suede +shoes were brought to him from the hall. + +"See, M. Hanaud, it is a pretty little foot which made those clear +impressions," he said, with a smile; "a foot arched and slender. Mme. +Dauvray's foot is short and square, the maid's broad and flat. Neither +Mme. Dauvray nor Helene Vauquier could have worn these shoes. They were +lying, one here, one there, upon the floor of Celie Harland's room, as +though she had kicked them off in a hurry. They are almost new, you +see. They have been worn once, perhaps, no more, and they fit with +absolute precision into those footmarks, except just at the toe of that +second one." + +Hanaud took the shoes and, kneeling down, placed them one after the +other over the impressions. To Ricardo it was extraordinary how exactly +they covered up the marks and filled the indentations. + +"I should say," said the Commissaire, "that Celie Harland went away +wearing a new pair of shoes made on the very same last as those." + +As those she had left carelessly lying on the floor of her room for the +first person to notice, thought Ricardo! It seemed as if the girl had +gone out of her way to make the weight of evidence against her as heavy +as possible. Yet, after all, it was just through inattention to the +small details, so insignificant at the red moment of crime, so terribly +instructive the next day, that guilt was generally brought home. + +Hanaud rose to his feet and handed the shoes back to the officer. + +"Yes," he said, "so it seems. The shoemaker can help us here. I see the +shoes were made in Aix." + +Besnard looked at the name stamped in gold letters upon the lining of +the shoes. + +"I will have inquiries made," he said. + +Hanaud nodded, took a measure from his pocket and measured the ground +between the window and the first footstep, and between the first +footstep and the other two. + +"How tall is Mlle. Celie?" he asked, and he addressed the question to +Wethermill. It struck Ricardo as one of the strangest details in all +this strange affair that the detective should ask with confidence for +information which might help to bring Celia Harland to the guillotine +from the man who had staked his happiness upon her innocence. + +"About five feet seven," he answered. + +Hanaud replaced his measure in his pocket. He turned with a grave face +to Wethermill. + +"I warned you fairly, didn't I?" he said. + +Wethermill's white face twitched. + +"Yes," he said. "I am not afraid." But there was more of anxiety in his +voice than there had been before. + +Hanaud pointed solemnly to the ground. + +"Read the story those footprints write in the mould there. A young and +active girl of about Mlle. Celie's height, and wearing a new pair of +Mlle. Celie's shoes, springs from that room where the murder was +committed, where the body of the murdered woman lies. She is running. +She is wearing a long gown. At the second step the hem of the gown +catches beneath the point of her shoe. She stumbles. To save herself +from falling she brings up the other foot sharply and stamps the heel +down into the ground. She recovers her balance. She steps on to the +drive. It is true the gravel here is hard and takes no mark, but you +will see that some of the mould which has clung to her shoes has +dropped off. She mounts into the motor-car with the man and the other +woman and drives off--some time between eleven and twelve." + +"Between eleven and twelve? Is that sure?" asked Besnard. + +"Certainly," replied Hanaud. "The gate is open at eleven, and Perrichet +closes it. It is open again at twelve. Therefore the murderers had not +gone before eleven. No; the gate was open for them to go, but they had +not gone. Else why should the gate again be open at midnight?" + +Besnard nodded in assent, and suddenly Perrichet started forward, with +his eyes full of horror. + +"Then, when I first closed the gate," he cried, "and came into the +garden and up to the house they were here--in that room? Oh, my God!" +He stared at the window, with his mouth open. + +"I am afraid, my friend, that is so," said Hanaud gravely. + +"But I knocked upon the wooden door, I tried the bolts; and they were +within--in the darkness within, holding their breath not three yards +from me." + +He stood transfixed. + +"That we shall see," said Hanaud. + +He stepped in Perrichet's footsteps to the sill of the room. He +examined the green wooden doors which opened outwards, and the glass +doors which opened inwards, taking a magnifying-glass from his pocket. +He called Besnard to his side. + +"See!" he said, pointing to the woodwork. + +"Finger-marks!" asked Besnard eagerly. + +"Yes; of hands in gloves," returned Hanaud. "We shall learn nothing +from these marks except that the assassins knew their trade." + +Then he stooped down to the sill, where some traces of steps were +visible. He rose with a gesture of resignation. + +"Rubber shoes," he said, and so stepped into the room, followed by +Wethermill and the others. They found themselves in a small recess +which was panelled with wood painted white, and here and there +delicately carved into festoons of flowers. The recess ended in an +arch, supported by two slender pillars, and on the inner side of the +arch thick curtains of pink silk were hung. These were drawn back +carelessly, and through the opening between them the party looked down +the length of the room beyond. They passed within. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE SALON + + +Julius Ricardo pushed aside the curtains with a thrill of excitement. +He found himself standing within a small oblong room which was +prettily, even daintily, furnished. On his left, close by the recess, +was a small fireplace with the ashes of a burnt-out fire in the grate. +Beyond the grate a long settee covered in pink damask, with a crumpled +cushion at each end, stood a foot or two away from the wall, and beyond +the settee the door of the room opened into the hall. At the end a long +mirror was let into the panelling, and a writing-table stood by the +mirror. On the right were the three windows, and between the two +nearest to Mr. Ricardo was the switch of the electric light. A +chandelier hung from the ceiling, an electric lamp stood upon the +writing-table, a couple of electric candles on the mantel-shelf. A +round satinwood table stood under the windows, with three chairs about +it, of which one was overturned, one was placed with its back to the +electric switch, and the third on the opposite side facing it. + +Ricardo could hardly believe that he stood actually upon the spot +where, within twelve hours, a cruel and sinister tragedy had taken +place. There was so little disorder. The three windows on his right +showed him the blue sunlit sky and a glimpse of flowers and trees; +behind him the glass doors stood open to the lawn, where birds piped +cheerfully and the trees murmured of summer. But he saw Hanaud stepping +quickly from place to place, with an extraordinary lightness of step +for so big a man, obviously engrossed, obviously reading here and there +some detail, some custom of the inhabitants of that room. + +Ricardo leaned with careful artistry against the wall. + +"Now, what has this room to say to me?" he asked importantly. Nobody +paid the slightest attention to his question, and it was just as well. +For the room had very little information to give him. He ran his eye +over the white Louis Seize furniture, the white panels of the wall, the +polished floor, the pink curtains. Even the delicate tracery of the +ceiling did not escape his scrutiny. Yet he saw nothing likely to help +him but an overturned chair and a couple of crushed cushions on a +settee. It was very annoying, all the more annoying because M. Hanaud +was so uncommonly busy. Hanaud looked carefully at the long settee and +the crumpled cushions, and he took out his measure and measured the +distance between the cushion at one end and the cushion at the other. +He examined the table, he measured the distance between the chairs. He +came to the fireplace and raked in the ashes of the burnt-out fire. But +Ricardo noticed a singular thing. In the midst of his search Hanaud's +eyes were always straying back to the settee, and always with a look of +extreme perplexity, as if he read there something, definitely +something, but something which he could not explain. Finally he went +back to it; he drew it farther away from the wall, and suddenly with a +little cry he stooped and went down on his knees. When he rose he was +holding some torn fragments of paper in his hand. He went over to the +writing-table and opened the blotting-book. Where it fell open there +were some sheets of note-paper, and one particular sheet of which half +had been torn off. He compared the pieces which he held with that torn +sheet, and seemed satisfied. + +There was a rack for note-paper upon the table, and from it he took a +stiff card. + +"Get me some gum or paste, and quickly," he said. His voice had become +brusque, the politeness had gone from his address. He carried the card +and the fragments of paper to the round table. There he sat down and, +with infinite patience, gummed the fragments on to the card, fitting +them together like the pieces of a Chinese puzzle. + +The others over his shoulders could see spaced words, written in +pencil, taking shape as a sentence upon the card. Hanaud turned +abruptly in his seat toward Wethermill. + +"You have, no doubt, a letter written by Mlle. Celie?" + +Wethermill took his letter-case from his pocket and a letter out of the +case. He hesitated for a moment as he glanced over what was written. +The four sheets were covered. He folded back the letter, so that only +the two inner sheets were visible, and handed it to Hanaud. Hanaud +compared it with the handwriting upon the card. + +"Look!" he said at length, and the three men gathered behind him. On +the card the gummed fragments of paper revealed a sentence: + +"Je ne sais pas." + +"'I do not know,'" said Ricardo; "now this is very important." + +Beside the card Celia's letter to Wethermill was laid. + +"What do you think?" asked Hanaud. + +Besnard, the Commissaire of Police, bent over Hanaud's shoulder. + +"There are strong resemblances," he said guardedly. + +Ricardo was on the look-out for deep mysteries. Resemblances were not +enough for him; they were inadequate to the artistic needs of the +situation. + +"Both were written by the same hand," he said definitely; "only in the +sentence written upon the card the handwriting is carefully disguised." + +"Ah!" said the Commissaire, bending forward again. "Here is an idea! +Yes, yes, there are strong differences." + +Ricardo looked triumphant. + +"Yes, there are differences," said Hanaud. "Look how long the up stroke +of the 'p' is, how it wavers! See how suddenly this 's' straggles off, +as though some emotion made the hand shake. Yet this," and touching +Wethermill's letter he smiled ruefully, "this is where the emotion +should have affected the pen." He looked up at Wethermill's face and +then said quietly: + +"You have given us no opinion, monsieur. Yet your opinion should be the +most valuable of all. Were these two papers written by the same hand?" + +"I do not know," answered Wethermill. + +"And I, too," cried Hanaud, in a sudden exasperation, "je ne sais pas. +I do not know. It may be her hand carelessly counterfeited. It may be +her hand disguised. It may be simply that she wrote in a hurry with her +gloves on." + +"It may have been written some time ago," said Mr. Ricardo, encouraged +by his success to another suggestion. + +"No; that is the one thing it could not have been," said Hanaud. "Look +round the room. Was there ever a room better tended? Find me a little +pile of dust in any one corner if you can! It is all as clean as a +plate. Every morning, except this one morning, this room has been swept +and polished. The paper was written and torn up yesterday." + +He enclosed the card in an envelope as he spoke, and placed it in his +pocket. Then he rose and crossed again to the settee. He stood at the +side of it, with his hands clutching the lapels of his coat and his +face gravely troubled. After a few moments of silence for himself, of +suspense for all the others who watched him, he stooped suddenly. +Slowly, and with extraordinary care, he pushed his hands under the +head-cushion and lifted it up gently, so that the indentations of its +surface might not be disarranged. He carried it over to the light of +the open window. The cushion was covered with silk, and as he held it +to the sunlight all could see a small brown stain. + +Hanaud took his magnifying-glass from his pocket and bent his head over +the cushion. But at that moment, careful though he had been, the down +swelled up within the cushion, the folds and indentations disappeared, +the silk covering was stretched smooth. + +"Oh!" cried Besnard tragically. "What have you done?" + +Hanaud's face flushed. He had been guilty of a clumsiness--even he. + +Mr. Ricardo took up the tale. + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "what have you done?" + +Hanaud looked at Ricardo in amazement at his audacity. + +"Well, what have I done?" he asked. "Come! tell me!" + +"You have destroyed a clue," replied Ricardo impressively. + +The deepest dejection at once overspread Hanaud's burly face. + +"Don't say that, M. Ricardo, I beseech you!" he implored. "A clue! and +I have destroyed it! But what kind of a clue? And how have I destroyed +it? And to what mystery would it be a clue if I hadn't destroyed it? +And what will become of me when I go back to Paris, and say in the Rue +de Jerusalem, 'Let me sweep the cellars, my good friends, for M. +Ricardo knows that I destroyed a clue. Faithfully he promised me that +he would not open his mouth, but I destroyed a clue, and his +perspicacity forced him into speech.'" + +It was the turn of M. Ricardo to grow red. + +Hanaud turned with a smile to Besnard. + +"It does not really matter whether the creases in this cushion remain," +he said, "we have all seen them." And he replaced the glass in his +pocket. + +He carried that cushion back and replaced it. Then he took the other, +which lay at the foot of the settee, and carried it in its turn to the +window. This was indented too, and ridged up, and just at the marks the +nap of the silk was worn, and there was a slit where it had been cut. +The perplexity upon Hanaud's face greatly increased. He stood with the +cushion in his hands, no longer looking at it, but looking out through +the doors at the footsteps so clearly defined--the foot-steps of a girl +who had run from this room and sprung into a motor-car and driven away. +He shook his head, and, carrying back the cushion, laid it carefully +down. Then he stood erect, gazed about the room as though even yet he +might force its secrets out from its silence, and cried, with a sudden +violence: + +"There is something here, gentlemen, which I do not understand." + +Mr. Ricardo heard some one beside him draw a deep breath, and turned. +Wethermill stood at his elbow. A faint colour had come back to his +cheeks, his eyes were fixed intently upon Hanaud's face. + +"What do you think?" he asked; and Hanaud replied brusquely: + +"It's not my business to hold opinions, monsieur; my business is to +make sure." + +There was one point, and only one, of which he had made every one in +that room sure. He had started confident. Here was a sordid crime, +easily understood. But in that room he had read something which had +troubled him, which had raised the sordid crime on to some higher and +perplexing level. + +"Then M. Fleuriot after all might be right?" asked the Commissaire +timidly. + +Hanaud stared at him for a second, then smiled. + +"L'affaire Dreyfus?" he cried. "Oh la, la, la! No, but there is +something else." + +What was that something? Ricardo asked himself. He looked once more +about the room. He did not find his answer, but he caught sight of an +ornament upon the wall which drove the question from his mind. The +ornament, if so it could be called, was a painted tambourine with a +bunch of bright ribbons tied to the rim; and it was hung upon the wall +between the settee and the fireplace at about the height of a man's +head. Of course it might be no more than it seemed to be--a rather +gaudy and vulgar toy, such as a woman like Mme. Dauvray would be very +likely to choose in order to dress her walls. But it swept Ricardo's +thoughts back of a sudden to the concert-hall at Leamington and the +apparatus of a spiritualistic show. After all, he reflected +triumphantly, Hanaud had not noticed everything, and as he made the +reflection Hanaud's voice broke in to corroborate him. + +"We have seen everything here; let us go upstairs," he said. "We will +first visit the room of Mlle. Celie. Then we will question the maid, +Helene Vauquier." + +The four men, followed by Perrichet, passed out by the door into the +hall and mounted the stairs. Celia's room was in the southwest angle of +the villa, a bright and airy room, of which one window overlooked the +road, and two others, between which stood the dressing-table, the +garden. Behind the room a door led into a little white-tiled bathroom. +Some towels were tumbled upon the floor beside the bath. In the bedroom +a dark-grey frock of tussore and a petticoat were flung carelessly on +the bed; a big grey hat of Ottoman silk was lying upon a chest of +drawers in the recess of a window; and upon a chair a little pile of +fine linen and a pair of grey silk stockings, which matched in shade +the grey suede shoes, were tossed in a heap. + +"It was here that you saw the light at half-past nine?" Hanaud said, +turning to Perrichet. + +"Yes, monsieur," replied Perrichet. + +"We may assume, then, that Mlle. Celie was changing her dress at that +time." + +Besnard was looking about him, opening a drawer here, a wardrobe there. + +"Mlle. Celie," he said, with a laugh, "was a particular young lady, and +fond of her fine clothes, if one may judge from the room and the order +of the cupboards. She must have changed her dress last night in an +unusual hurry." + +There was about the whole room a certain daintiness, almost, it seemed +to Mr. Ricardo, a fragrance, as though the girl had impressed something +of her own delicate self upon it. Wethermill stood upon the threshold +watching with a sullen face the violation of this chamber by the +officers of the police. + +No such feelings, however, troubled Hanaud. He went over to the +dressing-room and opened a few small leather cases which held Celia's +ornaments. In one or two of them a trinket was visible; others were +empty. One of these latter Hanaud held open in his hand, and for so +long that Besnard moved impatiently. + +"You see it is empty, monsieur," he said, and suddenly Wethermill moved +forward into the room. + +"Yes, I see that," said Hanaud dryly. + +It was a case made to hold a couple of long ear-drops--those diamond +ear-drops, doubtless, which Mr. Ricardo had seen twinkling in the +garden. + +"Will monsieur let me see?" asked Wethermill, and he took the case in +his hands. "Yes," he said. "Mlle. Celie's ear-drops," and he handed the +case back with a thoughtful air. + +It was the first time he had taken a definite part in the +investigation. To Ricardo the reason was clear. Harry Wethermill had +himself given those ear-drops to Celia. Hanaud replaced the case and +turned round. + +"There is nothing more for us to see here," he said. "I suppose that no +one has been allowed to enter the room?" And he opened the door. + +"No one except Helene Vauquier," replied the Commissaire. + +Ricardo felt indignant at so obvious a piece of carelessness. Even +Wethermill looked surprised. Hanaud merely shut the door again. + +"Oho, the maid!" he said. "Then she has recovered!" + +"She is still weak," said the Commissaire. "But I thought it was +necessary that we should obtain at once a description of what Celie +Harland wore when she left the house. I spoke to M. Fleuriot about it, +and he gave me permission to bring Helene Vauquier here, who alone +could tell us. I brought her here myself just before you came. She +looked through the girl's wardrobe to see what was missing." + +"Was she alone in the room?" + +"Not for a moment," said M. Besnard haughtily. "Really, monsieur, we +are not so ignorant of how an affair of this kind should be conducted. +I was in the room myself the whole time, with my eye upon her." + +"That was just before I came," said Hanaud. He crossed carelessly to +the open window which overlooked the road and, leaning out of it, +looked up the road to the corner round which he and his friends had +come, precisely as the Commissaire had done. Then he turned back into +the room. + +"Which was the last cupboard or drawer that Helene Vauquier touched?" +he asked. + +"This one." + +Besnard stooped and pulled open the bottom drawer of a chest which +stood in the embrasure of the window. A light-coloured dress was lying +at the bottom. + +"I told her to be quick," said Besnard, "since I had seen that you were +coming. She lifted this dress out and said that nothing was missing +there. So I took her back to her room and left her with the nurse." + +Hanaud lifted the light dress from the drawer, shook it out in front of +the window, twirled it round, snatched up a corner of it and held it to +his eyes, and then, folding it quickly, replaced it in the drawer. + +"Now show me the first drawer she touched." And this time he lifted out +a petticoat, and, taking it to the window, examined it with a greater +care. When he had finished with it he handed it to Ricardo to put away, +and stood for a moment or two thoughtful and absorbed. Ricardo in his +turn examined the petticoat. But he could see nothing unusual. It was +an attractive petticoat, dainty with frills and lace, but it was hardly +a thing to grow thoughtful over. He looked up in perplexity and saw +that Hanaud was watching his investigations with a smile of amusement. + +"When M. Ricardo has put that away," he said, "we will hear what Helene +Vauquier has to tell us." + +He passed out of the door last, and, locking it, placed the key in his +pocket. + +"Helene Vauquier's room is, I think, upstairs," he said. And he moved +towards the staircase. + +But as he did so a man in plain clothes, who had been waiting upon the +landing, stepped forward. He carried in his hand a piece of thin, +strong whipcord. + +"Ah, Durette!" cried Besnard. "Monsieur Hanaud, I sent Durette this +morning round the shops of Aix with the cord which was found knotted +round Mme. Dauvray's neck." + +Hanaud advanced quickly to the man. + +"Well! Did you discover anything?" + +"Yes, monsieur," said Durette. "At the shop of M. Corval, in the Rue du +Casino, a young lady in a dark-grey frock and hat bought some cord of +this kind at a few minutes after nine last night. It was just as the +shop was being closed. I showed Corval the photograph of Celie Harland +which M. le Commissaire gave me out of Mme. Dauvray's room, and he +identified it as the portrait of the girl who had bought the cord." + +Complete silence followed upon Durette's words. The whole party stood +like men stupefied. No one looked towards Wethermill; even Hanaud +averted his eyes. + +"Yes, that is very important," he said awkwardly. He turned away and, +followed by the others, went up the stairs to the bedroom of Helene +Vauquier. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HELENE VAUQUIER'S EVIDENCE + + +A nurse opened the door. Within the room Helene Vauquier was leaning +back in a chair. She looked ill, and her face was very white. On the +appearance of Hanaud, the Commissaire, and the others, however, she +rose to her feet. Ricardo recognised the justice of Hanaud's +description. She stood before them a hard-featured, tall woman of +thirty-five or forty, in a neat black stuff dress, strong with the +strength of a peasant, respectable, reliable. She looked what she had +been, the confidential maid of an elderly woman. On her face there was +now an aspect of eager appeal. + +"Oh, monsieur!" she began, "let me go from here--anywhere--into prison +if you like. But to stay here--where in years past we were so +happy--and with madame lying in the room below. No, it is +insupportable." + +She sank into her chair, and Hanaud came over to her side. + +"Yes, yes," he said, in a soothing voice. "I can understand your +feelings, my poor woman. We will not keep you here. You have, perhaps, +friends in Aix with whom you could stay?" + +"Oh yes, monsieur!" Helene cried gratefully. "Oh, but I thank you! That +I should have to sleep here to-night! Oh, how the fear of that has +frightened me!" + +"You need have had no such fear. After all, we are not the visitors of +last night," said Hanaud, drawing a chair close to her and patting her +hand sympathetically. "Now, I want you to tell these gentlemen and +myself all that you know of this dreadful business. Take your time, +mademoiselle! We are human." + +"But, monsieur, I know nothing," she cried. "I was told that I might go +to bed as soon as I had dressed Mlle. Celie for the seance." + +"Seance!" cried Ricardo, startled into speech. The picture of the +Assembly Hall at Leamington was again before his mind. But Hanaud +turned towards him, and, though Hanaud's face retained its benevolent +expression, there was a glitter in his eyes which sent the blood into +Ricardo's face. + +"Did you speak again, M. Ricardo?" the detective asked. "No? I thought +it was not possible." He turned back to Helene Vauquier. "So Mlle. +Celie practised seances. That is very strange. We will hear about them. +Who knows what thread may lead us to the truth?" + +Helene Vauquier shook her head. + +"Monsieur, it is not right that you should seek the truth from me. For, +consider this! I cannot speak with justice of Mlle. Celie. No, I +cannot! I did not like her. I was jealous--yes, jealous. Monsieur, you +want the truth--I hated her!" And the woman's face flushed and she +clenched her hand upon the arm of her chair. "Yes, I hated her. How +could I help it?" she asked. + +"Why?" asked Hanaud gently. "Why could you not help it?" + +Helene Vauquier leaned back again, her strength exhausted, and smiled +languidly. + +"I will tell you. But remember it is a woman speaking to you, and +things which you will count silly and trivial mean very much to her. +There was one night last June--only last June! To think of it! So +little while ago there was no Mlle. Celie--" and, as Hanaud raised his +hand, she said hurriedly, "Yes, yes; I will control myself. But to +think of Mme. Dauvray now!" + +And thereupon she blurted out her story and explained to Mr. Ricardo +the question which had so perplexed him: how a girl of so much +distinction as Celia Harland came to be living with a woman of so +common a type as Mme. Dauvray. + +"Well, one night in June," said Helene Vauquier, "madame went with a +party to supper at the Abbaye Restaurant in Montmartre. And she brought +home for the first time Mlle. Celie. But you should have seen her! She +had on a little plaid skirt and a coat which was falling to pieces, and +she was starving--yes, starving. Madame told me the story that night as +I undressed her. Mlle. Celie was there dancing amidst the tables for a +supper with any one who would be kind enough to dance with her." + +The scorn of her voice rang through the room. She was the rigid, +respectable peasant woman, speaking out her contempt. And Wethermill +must needs listen to it. Ricardo dared not glance at him. + +"But hardly any one would dance with her in her rags, and no one would +give her supper except madame. Madame did. Madame listened to her story +of hunger and distress. Madame believed it, and brought her home. +Madame was so kind, so careless in her kindness. And now she lies +murdered for a reward!" An hysterical sob checked the woman's +utterances, her face began to work, her hands to twitch. + +"Come, come!" said Hanaud gently, "calm yourself, mademoiselle." + +Helene Vauquier paused for a moment or two to recover her composure. "I +beg your pardon, monsieur, but I have been so long with madame--oh, the +poor woman! Yes, yes, I will calm myself. Well, madame brought her +home, and in a week there was nothing too good for Mlle. Celie. Madame +was like a child. Always she was being deceived and imposed upon. Never +she learnt prudence. But no one so quickly made her way to madame's +heart as Mlle. Celie. Mademoiselle must live with her. Mademoiselle +must be dressed by the first modistes. Mademoiselle must have lace +petticoats and the softest linen, long white gloves, and pretty ribbons +for her hair, and hats from Caroline Reboux at twelve hundred francs. +And madame's maid must attend upon her and deck her out in all these +dainty things. Bah!" + +Vauquier was sitting erect in her chair, violent, almost rancorous with +anger. She looked round upon the company and shrugged her shoulders. + +"I told you not to come to me!" she said, "I cannot speak impartially, +or even gently of mademoiselle. Consider! For years I had been more +than madame's maid--her friend; yes, so she was kind enough to call me. +She talked to me about everything, consulted me about everything, took +me with her everywhere. Then she brings home, at two o'clock in the +morning, a young girl with a fresh, pretty face, from a Montmartre +restaurant, and in a week I am nothing at all--oh, but nothing--and +mademoiselle is queen." + +"Yes, it is quite natural," said Hanaud sympathetically. "You would not +have been human, mademoiselle, if you had not felt some anger. But tell +us frankly about these seances. How did they begin?" + +"Oh, monsieur," Vauquier answered, "it was not difficult to begin them. +Mme. Dauvray had a passion for fortune-tellers and rogues of that kind. +Any one with a pack of cards and some nonsense about a dangerous woman +with black hair or a man with a limp--Monsieur knows the stories they +string together in dimly lighted rooms to deceive the credulous--any +one could make a harvest out of madame's superstitions. But monsieur +knows the type." + +"Indeed I do," said Hanaud, with a laugh. + +"Well, after mademoiselle had been with us three weeks, she said to me +one morning when I was dressing her hair that it was a pity madame was +always running round the fortune-tellers, that she herself could do +something much more striking and impressive, and that if only I would +help her we could rescue madame from their clutches. Sir, I did not +think what power I was putting into Mlle. Celie's hands, or assuredly I +would have refused. And I did not wish to quarrel with Mlle. Celie; so +for once I consented, and, having once consented, I could never +afterwards refuse, for, if I had, mademoiselle would have made some +fine excuse about the psychic influence not being en rapport, and +meanwhile would have had me sent away. While if I had confessed the +truth to madame, she would have been so angry that I had been a party +to tricking her that again I would have lost my place. And so the +seances went on." + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "I understand that your position was very +difficult. We shall not, I think," and he turned to the Commissaire +confidently for corroboration of his words, "be disposed to blame you." + +"Certainly not," said the Commissaire. "After all, life is not so easy." + +"Thus, then, the seances began," said Hanaud, leaning forward with a +keen interest. "This is a strange and curious story you are telling me, +Mlle. Vauquier. Now, how were they conducted? How did you assist? What +did Mlle. Celie do? Rap on the tables in the dark and rattle +tambourines like that one with the knot of ribbons which hangs upon the +wall of the salon?" + +There was a gentle and inviting irony in Hanaud's tone. M. Ricardo was +disappointed. Hanaud had after all not overlooked the tambourine. +Without Ricardo's reason to notice it, he had none the less observed it +and borne it in his memory. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Oh, monsieur, the tambourines and the rapping on the table!" cried +Helene. "That was nothing--oh, but nothing at all. Mademoiselle Celie +would make spirits appear and speak!" + +"Really! And she was never caught out! But Mlle. Celie must have been a +remarkably clever girl." + +"Oh, she was of an address which was surprising. Sometimes madame and I +were alone. Sometimes there were others, whom madame in her pride had +invited. For she was very proud, monsieur, that her companion could +introduce her to the spirits of dead people. But never was Mlle. Celie +caught out. She told me that for many years, even when quite a child, +she had travelled through England giving these exhibitions." + +"Oho!" said Hanaud, and he turned to Wethermill. "Did you know that?" +he asked in English. + +"I did not," he said. "I do not now." + +Hanaud shook his head. + +"To me this story does not seem invented," he replied. And then he +spoke again in French to Helene Vauquier. "Well, continue, +mademoiselle! Assume that the company is assembled for our seance." + +"Then Mlle. Celie, dressed in a long gown of black velvet, which set +off her white arms and shoulders well--oh, mademoiselle did not forget +those little trifles," Helene Vauquier interrupted her story, with a +return of her bitterness, to interpolate--"mademoiselle would sail into +the room with her velvet train flowing behind her, and perhaps for a +little while she would say there was a force working against her, and +she would sit silent in a chair while madame gaped at her with open +eyes. At last mademoiselle would say that the powers were favourable +and the spirits would manifest themselves to-night. Then she would be +placed in a cabinet, perhaps with a string tied across the door +outside--you will understand it was my business to see after the +string--and the lights would be turned down, or perhaps out altogether. +Or at other times we would sit holding hands round a table, Mlle. Celie +between Mme. Dauvray and myself. But in that case the lights would be +turned out first, and it would be really my hand which held Mme. +Dauvray's. And whether it was the cabinet or the chairs, in a moment +mademoiselle would be creeping silently about the room in a little pair +of soft-soled slippers without heels, which she wore so that she might +not be heard, and tambourines would rattle as you say, and fingers +touch the forehead and the neck, and strange voices would sound from +corners of the room, and dim apparitions would appear--the spirits of +great ladies of the past, who would talk with Mme. Dauvray. Such ladies +as Mme. de Castiglione, Marie Antoinette, Mme. de Medici--I do not +remember all the names, and very likely I do not pronounce them +properly. Then the voices would cease and the lights be turned up, and +Mlle. Celie would be found in a trance just in the same place and +attitude as she had been when the lights were turned out. Imagine, +messieurs, the effect of such seances upon a woman like Mme. Dauvray. +She was made for them. She believed in them implicitly. The words of +the great ladies from the past--she would remember and repeat them, and +be very proud that such great ladies had come back to the world merely +to tell her--Mme. Dauvray--about their lives. She would have had +seances all day, but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at +the end of them. But Mlle. Celie was of an address! For instance--it +will seem very absurd and ridiculous to you, gentlemen, but you must +remember what Mme. Dauvray was--for instance, madame was particularly +anxious to speak with the spirit of Mme. de Montespan. Yes, yes! She +had read all the memoirs about that lady. Very likely Mlle. Celie had +put the notion into Mme. Dauvray's head, for madame was not a scholar. +But she was dying to hear that famous woman's voice and to catch a dim +glimpse of her face. Well, she was never gratified. Always she hoped. +Always Mlle. Celie tantalised her with the hope. But she would not +gratify it. She would not spoil her fine affairs by making these treats +too common. And she acquired--how should she not?--a power over Mme. +Dauvray which was unassailable. The fortune-tellers had no more to say +to Mme. Dauvray. She did nothing but felicitate herself upon the happy +chance which had sent her Mlle. Celie. And now she lies in her room +murdered!" + +Once more Helene's voice broke upon the words. But Hanaud poured her +out a glass of water and held it to her lips. Helene drank it eagerly. + +"There, that is better, is it not?" he said. + +"Yes, monsieur," said Helene Vauquier, recovering herself. "Sometimes, +too," she resumed, "messages from the spirits would flutter down in +writing on the table." + +"In writing?" exclaimed Hanaud quickly. + +"Yes; answers to questions. Mlle. Celie had them ready. Oh, but she was +of an address altogether surprising. + +"I see," said Hanaud slowly; and he added, "But sometimes, I suppose, +the questions were questions which Mlle. Celie could not answer?" + +"Sometimes," Helene Vauquier admitted, "when visitors were present. +When Mme. Dauvray was alone--well, she was an ignorant woman, and any +answer would serve. But it was not so when there were visitors whom +Mlle. Celie did not know, or only knew slightly. These visitors might +be putting questions to test her, of which they knew the answers, while +Mlle. Celie did not." + +"Exactly," said Hanaud. "What happened then?" + +All who were listening understood to what point he was leading Helene +Vauquier. All waited intently for her answer. + +She smiled. + +"It was all one to Mlle. Celie." + +"She was prepared with an escape from the difficulty?" + +"Perfectly prepared." + +Hanaud looked puzzled. + +"I can think of no way out of it except the one," and he looked round +to the Commissaire and to Ricardo as though he would inquire of them +how many ways they had discovered. "I can think of no escape except +that a message in writing should flutter down from the spirit appealed +to saying frankly," and Hanaud shrugged his shoulders, "'I do not +know.'" + +"Oh no no, monsieur," replied Helene Vauquier in pity for Hanaud's +misconception, "I see that you are not in the habit of attending +seances. It would never do for a spirit to admit that it did not know. +At once its authority would be gone, and with it Mlle. Celie's as well. +But on the other hand, for inscrutable reasons the spirit might not be +allowed to answer." + +"I understand," said Hanaud, meekly accepting the correction. "The +spirit might reply that it was forbidden to answer, but never that it +did not know." + +"No, never that," said Helene. So it seemed that Hanaud must look +elsewhere for the explanation of that sentence. "I do not know," Helene +continued: "Oh, Mlle. Celie--it was not easy to baffle her, I can tell +you. She carried a lace scarf which she could drape about her head, and +in a moment she would be, in the dim light, an old, old woman, with a +voice so altered that no one could know it. Indeed, you said rightly, +monsieur--she was clever." + +To all who listened Helene Vauquier's story carried its conviction. +Mme. Dauvray rose vividly before their minds as a living woman. Celie's +trickeries were so glibly described that they could hardly have been +invented, and certainly not by this poor peasant-woman whose lips so +bravely struggled with Medici, and Montespan, and the names of the +other great ladies. How, indeed, should she know of them at all? She +could never have had the inspiration to concoct the most convincing +item of her story--the queer craze of Mme. Dauvray for an interview +with Mme. de Montespan. These details were assuredly the truth. + +Ricardo, indeed, knew them to be true. Had he not himself seen the girl +in her black velvet dress shut up in a cabinet, and a great lady of the +past dimly appear in the darkness? Moreover, Helene Vauquier's jealousy +was so natural and inevitable a thing. Her confession of it +corroborated all her story. + +"Well, then," said Hanaud, "we come to last night. There was a seance +held in the salon last night." + +"No, monsieur," said Vauquier, shaking her head; "there was no seance +last night." + +"But already you have said--" interrupted the Commissaire; and Hanaud +held up his hand. + +"Let her speak, my friend." + +"Yes, monsieur shall hear," said Vauquier. + +It appeared that at five o'clock in the afternoon Mme. Dauvray and +Mlle. Celie prepared to leave the house on foot. It was their custom to +walk down at this hour to the Villa des Fleurs, pass an hour or so +there, dine in a restaurant, and return to the Rooms to spend the +evening. On this occasion, however, Mme. Dauvray informed Helene that +they should be back early and bring with them a friend who was +interested in, but entirely sceptical of, spiritualistic +manifestations. "But we shall convince her to-night, Celie," she said +confidently; and the two women then went out. Shortly before eight +Helene closed the shutters both of the upstair and the downstair +windows and of the glass doors into the garden, and returned to the +kitchen, which was at the back of the house--that is, on the side +facing the road. There had been a fall of rain at seven which had +lasted for the greater part of the hour, and soon after she had shut +the windows the rain fell again in a heavy shower, and Helene, knowing +that madame felt the chill, lighted a small fire in the salon. The +shower lasted until nearly nine, when it ceased altogether and the +night cleared up. + +It was close upon half-past nine when the bell rang from the salon. +Vauquier was sure of the hour, for the charwoman called her attention +to the clock. + +"I found Mme. Dauvray, Mlle. Celie, and another woman in the salon," +continued Helene Vauquier. + +"Madame had let them in with her latchkey." + +"Ah, the other woman!" cried Besnard. "Had you seen her before?" + +"No, monsieur." + +"What was she like?" + +"She was sallow, with black hair and bright eyes like beads. She was +short and about forty-five years old, though it is difficult to judge +of these things. I noticed her hands, for she was taking her gloves +off, and they seemed to me to be unusually muscular for a woman." + +"Ah!" cried Louis Besnard. "That is important." + +"Mme. Dauvray was, as she always was before a seance, in a feverish +flutter. 'You will help Mlle. Celie to dress, Helene, and be very +quick,' she said; and with an extraordinary longing she added, 'Perhaps +we shall see her to-night.' Her, you understand, was Mme. de Montespan." +And she turned to the stranger and said, "You will believe, Adele, +after to-night." + +"Adele!" said the Commissaire wisely. "Then Adele was the strange +woman's name?" + +"Perhaps," said Hanaud dryly. + +Helene Vauquier reflected. + +"I think Adele was the name," she said in a more doubtful tone. "It +sounded like Adele." + +The irrepressible Mr. Ricardo was impelled to intervene. + +"What Monsieur Hanaud means," he explained, with the pleasant air of a +man happy to illuminate the dark intelligence of a child, "is that +Adele was probably a pseudonym." + +Hanaud turned to him with a savage grin. + +"Now that is sure to help her!" he cried. "A pseudonym! Helene Vauquier +is sure to understand that simple and elementary word. How bright this +M. Ricardo is! Where shall we find a new pin more bright? I ask you," +and he spread out his hands in a despairing admiration. + +Mr. Ricardo flushed red, but he answered never a word. He must endure +gibes and humiliations like a schoolboy in a class. His one constant +fear was lest he should be turned out of the room. The Commissaire +diverted wrath from him however. + +"What he means by pseudonym," he said to Helene Vauquier, explaining +Mr. Ricardo to her as Mr. Ricardo had presumed to explain Hanaud, "is a +false name. Adele may have been, nay, probably was, a false name +adopted by this strange woman." + +"Adele, I think, was the name used," replied Helene, the doubt in her +voice diminishing as she searched her memory. "I am almost sure." + +"Well, we will call her Adele," said Hanaud impatiently. "What does it +matter? Go on, Mademoiselle Vauquier." + +"The lady sat upright and squarely upon the edge of a chair, with a +sort of defiance, as though she was determined nothing should convince +her, and she laughed incredulously." + +Here, again, all who heard were able vividly to conjure up the +scene--the defiant sceptic sitting squarely on the edge of her chair, +removing her gloves from her muscular hands; the excited Mme. Dauvray, +so absorbed in the determination to convince; and Mlle. Celie running +from the room to put on the black gown which would not be visible in +the dim light. + +"Whilst I took off mademoiselle's dress," Vauquier continued, "she +said: 'When I have gone down to the salon you can go to bed, Helene. +Mme. Adele'--yes, it was Adele--'will be fetched by a friend in a +motorcar, and I can let her out and fasten the door again. So if you +hear the car you will know that it has come for her.'" + +"Oh, she said that!" said Hanaud quickly. + +"Yes, monsieur." + +Hanaud looked gloomily towards Wethermill. Then he exchanged a sharp +glance with the Commissaire, and moved his shoulders in an almost +imperceptible shrug. But Mr. Ricardo saw it, and construed it into one +word. He imagined a jury uttering the word "Guilty." + +Helene Vauquier saw the movement too. + +"Do not condemn her too quickly, monsieur," she, said, with an impulse +of remorse. "And not upon my words. For, as I say, I--hated her." + +Hanaud nodded reassuringly, and she resumed: + +"I was surprised, and I asked mademoiselle what she would do without +her confederate. But she laughed, and said there would be no +difficulty. That is partly why I think there was no seance held last +night. Monsieur, there was a note in her voice that evening which I did +not as yet understand. Mademoiselle then took her bath while I laid out +her black dress and the slippers with the soft, noiseless soles. And +now I tell you why I am sure there was no seance last night--why Mlle. +Celie never meant there should be one." + +"Yes, let us hear that," said Hanaud curiously, and leaning forward +with his hands upon his knees. + +"You have here, monsieur, a description of how mademoiselle was dressed +when she went away." Helene Vauquier picked up a sheet of paper from +the table at her side. "I wrote it out at the request of M. le +Commissaire." She handed the paper to Hanaud, who glanced through it as +she continued. "Well, except for the white lace coat, monsieur, I +dressed Mlle. Celie just in that way. She would have none of her plain +black robe. No, Mlle. Celie must wear her fine new evening frock of +pale reseda-green chiffon over soft clinging satin, which set off her +fair beauty so prettily. It left her white arms and shoulders bare, and +it had a long train, and it rustled as she moved. And with that she +must put on her pale green silk stockings, her new little satin +slippers to match, with the large paste buckles--and a sash of green +satin looped through another glittering buckle at the side of the +waist, with long ends loosely knotted together at the knee. I must tie +her fair hair with a silver ribbon, and pin upon her curls a large hat +of reseda green with a golden-brown ostrich feather drooping behind. I +warned mademoiselle that there was a tiny fire burning in the salon. +Even with the fire-screen in front of it there would still be a little +light upon the floor, and the glittering buckles on her feet would +betray her, even if the rustle of her dress did not. But she said she +would kick her slippers off. Ah, gentlemen, it is, after all, not so +that one dresses for a seance," she cried, shaking her head. "But it is +just so--is it not?--that one dresses to go to meet a lover." + +The suggestion startled every one who heard it. It fairly took Mr. +Ricardo's breath away. Wethermill stepped forward with a cry of revolt. +The Commissaire exclaimed, admiringly, "But here is an idea!" Even +Hanaud sat back in his chair, though his expression lost nothing of its +impassivity, and his eyes never moved from Helene Vauquier's face. + +"Listen!" she continued, "I will tell you what I think. It was my habit +to put out some sirop and lemonade and some little cakes in the +dining-room, which, as you know, is at the other side of the house +across the hall. I think it possible, messieurs, that while Mlle. Celie +was changing her dress Mme. Dauvray and the stranger, Adele, went into +the dining-room. I know that Mlle. Celie, as soon as she was dressed, +ran downstairs to the salon. Well, then, suppose Mlle. Celie had a +lover waiting with whom she meant to run away. She hurries through the +empty salon, opens the glass doors, and is gone, leaving the doors +open. And the thief, an accomplice of Adele, finds the doors open and +hides himself in the salon until Mme. Dauvray returns from the +dining-room. You see, that leaves Mlle. Celie innocent." + +Vauquier leaned forward eagerly, her white face flushing. There was a +moment's silence, and then Hanaud said: + +"That is all very well, Mlle. Vauquier. But it does not account for the +lace coat in which the girl went away. She must have returned to her +room to fetch that after you had gone to bed." + +Helene Vauquier leaned back with an air of disappointment. + +"That is true. I had forgotten the coat. I did not like Mlle. Celie, +but I am not wicked--" + +"Nor for the fact that the sirop and the lemonade had not been touched +in the dining-room," said the Commissaire, interrupting her. + +Again the disappointment overspread Vauquier's face. + +"Is that so?" she asked. "I did not know--I have been kept a prisoner +here." + +The Commissaire cut her short with a cry of satisfaction. + +"Listen! listen!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Here is a theory which +accounts for all, which combines Vauquier's idea with ours, and +Vauquier's idea is, I think, very just, up to a point. Suppose, M. +Hanaud, that the girl was going to meet her lover, but the lover is the +murderer. Then all becomes clear. She does not run away to him; she +opens the door for him and lets him in." + +Both Hanaud and Ricardo stole a glance at Wethermill. How did he take +the theory? Wethermill was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, +his face white and contorted with a spasm of pain. But he had the air +of a man silently enduring an outrage rather than struck down by the +conviction that the woman he loved was worthless. + +"It is not for me to say, monsieur," Helene Vauquier continued. "I only +tell you what I know. I am a woman, and it would be very difficult for +a girl who was eagerly expecting her lover so to act that another woman +would not know it. However uncultivated and ignorant the other woman +was, that at all events she would know. The knowledge would spread to +her of itself, without a word. Consider, gentlemen!" And suddenly +Helene Vauquier smiled. "A young girl tingling with excitement from +head to foot, eager that her beauty just at this moment should be more +fresh, more sweet than ever it was, careful that her dress should set +it exquisitely off. Imagine it! Her lips ready for the kiss! Oh, how +should another woman not know? I saw Mlle. Celie, her cheeks rosy, her +eyes bright. Never had she looked so lovely. The pale-green hat upon +her fair head heavy with its curls! From head to foot she looked +herself over, and then she sighed--she sighed with pleasure because she +looked so pretty. That was Mlle. Celie last night, monsieur. She +gathered up her train, took her long white gloves in the other hand, +and ran down the stairs, her heels clicking on the wood, her buckles +glittering. At the bottom she turned and said to me: + +"'Remember, Helene, you can go to bed.' That was it monsieur." + +And now violently the rancour of Helene Vauquier's feelings burst out +once more. + +"For her the fine clothes, the pleasure, and the happiness. For me--I +could go to bed!" + +Hanaud looked again at the description which Helene Vauquier had +written out, and read it through carefully. Then he asked a question, +of which Ricardo did not quite see the drift. + +"So," he said, "when this morning you suggested to Monsieur the +Commissaire that it would be advisable for you to go through Mlle. +Celie's wardrobe, you found that nothing more had been taken away +except the white lace coat?" + +"That is so." + +"Very well. Now, after Mlle. Celie had gone down the stairs--" + +"I put the lights out in her room and, as she had ordered me to do, I +went to bed. The next thing that I remember--but no! It terrifies me +too much to think of it." + +Helene shuddered and covered her face spasmodically with her hands. +Hanaud drew her hands gently down. + +"Courage! You are safe now, mademoiselle. Calm yourself!" + +She lay back with her eyes closed. + +"Yes, yes; it is true. I am safe now. But oh! I feel I shall never dare +to sleep again!" And the tears swam in her eyes. "I woke up with a +feeling of being suffocated. Mon Dieu! There was the light burning in +the room, and a woman, the strange woman with the strong hands, was +holding me down by the shoulders, while a man with his cap drawn over +his eyes and a little black moustache pressed over my lips a pad from +which a horribly sweet and sickly taste filled my mouth. Oh, I was +terrified! I could not scream. I struggled. The woman told me roughly +to keep quiet. But I could not. I must struggle. And then with a +brutality unheard of she dragged me up on to my knees while the man +kept the pad right over my mouth. The man, with the arm which was free, +held me close to him, and she bound my hands with a cord behind me. +Look!" + +She held out her wrists. They were terribly bruised. Red and angry +lines showed where the cord had cut deeply into her flesh. + +"Then they flung me down again upon my back, and the next thing I +remember is the doctor standing over me and this kind nurse supporting +me." + +She sank back exhausted in her chair and wiped her forehead with her +handkerchief. The sweat stood upon it in beads. + +"Thank you, mademoiselle," said Hanaud gravely. "This has been a trying +ordeal for you. I understand that. But we are coming to the end. I want +you to read this description of Mlle. Celie through again to make sure +that nothing is omitted." He gave the paper into the maid's hands. "It +will be advertised, so it is important that it should be complete. See +that you have left out nothing." + +Helene Vauquier bent her head over the paper. + +"No," said Helene at last. "I do not think I have omitted anything." +And she handed the paper back. + +"I asked you," Hanaud continued suavely, "because I understand that +Mlle. Celie usually wore a pair of diamond ear-drops, and they are not +mentioned here." + +A faint colour came into the maid's face. + +"That is true, monsieur. I had forgotten. It is quite true." + +"Any one might forget," said Hanaud, with a reassuring smile. "But you +will remember now. Think! think! Did Mlle. Celie wear them last night?" +He leaned forward, waiting for her reply. Wethermill too, made a +movement. Both men evidently thought the point of great importance. The +maid looked at Hanaud for a few moments without speaking. + +"It is not from me, mademoiselle, that you will get the answer," said +Hanaud quietly. + +"No, monsieur. I was thinking," said the maid, her face flushing at the +rebuke. + +"Did she wear them when she went down the stairs last night?" he +insisted. + +"I think she wore them," she said doubtfully. "Ye-es--yes," and the +words came now firm and clear. "I remember well. Mlle. Celie had taken +them off before her bath, and they lay on the dressing-table. She put +them into her ears while I dressed her hair and arranged the bow of +ribbon in it." + +"Then we will add the earrings to your description," said Hanaud, as he +rose from his chair with the paper in his hand, "and for the moment we +need not trouble you any more about Mademoiselle Celie." He folded the +paper up, slipped it into his letter-case, and put it away in his +pocket. "Let us consider that poor Madame Dauvray! Did she keep much +money in the house?" + +"No, monsieur; very little. She was well known in Aix and her cheques +were everywhere accepted without question. It was a high pleasure to +serve madame, her credit was so good," said Helene Vauquier, raising +her head as though she herself had a share in the pride of that good +credit. + +"No doubt," Hanaud agreed. "There are many fine households where the +banking account is overdrawn, and it cannot be pleasant for the +servants." + +"They are put to so many shifts to hide it from the servants of their +neighbours," said Helene. "Besides," and she made a little grimace of +contempt, "a fine household and an overdrawn banking account--it is +like a ragged petticoat under a satin dress. That was never the case +with Madame Dauvray." + +"So that she was under no necessity to have ready money always in her +pocket," said Hanaud. "I understand that. But at times perhaps she won +at the Villa des Fleurs?" + +Helene Vauquier shook her head. + +"She loved the Villa des Fleurs, but she never played for high sums and +often never played at all. If she won a few louis, she was as delighted +with her gains and as afraid to lose them again at the tables as if she +were of the poorest, and she stopped at once. No, monsieur; twenty or +thirty louis--there was never more than that in the house." + +"Then it was certainly for her famous collection of jewellery that +Madame Dauvray was murdered?" + +"Certainly, monsieur." + +"Now, where did she keep her jewellery?" + +"In a safe in her bedroom, monsieur. Every night she took off what she +had been wearing and locked it up with the rest. She was never too +tired for that." + +"And what did she do with the keys?" + +"That I cannot tell you. Certainly she locked her rings and necklaces +away whilst I undressed her. And she laid the keys upon the +dressing-table or the mantel-shelf--anywhere. But in the morning the +keys were no longer where she had left them. She had put them secretly +away." + +Hanaud turned to another point. + +"I suppose that Mademoiselle Celie knew of the safe and that the jewels +were kept there?" + +"Oh yes! Mademoiselle indeed was often in Madame Dauvray's room when +she was dressing or undressing. She must often have seen madame take +them out and lock them up again. But then, monsieur, so did I." + +Hanaud nodded to her with a friendly smile. + +"Thank you once more, mademoiselle," he said. "The torture is over. But +of course Monsieur Fleuriot will require your presence." + +Helene Vauquier looked anxiously towards him. + +"But meanwhile I can go from this villa, monsieur?" she pleaded, with a +trembling voice. + +"Certainly; you shall go to your friends at once." + +"Oh, monsieur, thank you!" she cried, and suddenly she gave way. The +tears began to flow from her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and +sobbed. "It is foolish of me, but what would you?" She jerked out the +words between her sobs. "It has been too terrible." + +"Yes, yes," said Hanaud soothingly. "The nurse will put a few things +together for you in a bag. You will not leave Aix, of course, and I +will send some one with you to your friends." + +The maid started violently. + +"Oh, not a sergent-de-ville, monsieur, I beg of you. I should be +disgraced." + +"No. It shall be a man in plain clothes, to see that you are not +hindered by reporters on the way." + +Hanaud turned towards the door. On the dressing-table a cord was lying. +He took it up and spoke to the nurse. + +"Was this the cord with which Helene Vauquier's hands were tied?" + +"Yes, monsieur," she replied. + +Hanaud handed it to the Commissaire. + +"It will be necessary to keep that," he said. + +It was a thin piece of strong whipcord. It was the same kind of cord as +that which had been found tied round Mme. Dauvray's throat. Hanaud +opened the door and turned back to the nurse. + +"We will send for a cab for Mlle. Vauquier. You will drive with her to +her door. I think after that she will need no further help. Pack up a +few things and bring them down. Mlle. Vauquier can follow, no doubt, +now without assistance." And, with a friendly nod, he left the room. + +Ricardo had been wondering, through the examination, in what light +Hanaud considered Helene Vauquier. He was sympathetic, but the sympathy +might merely have been assumed to deceive. His questions betrayed in no +particular the colour of his mind. Now, however, he made himself clear. +He informed the nurse, in the plainest possible way, that she was no +longer to act as jailer. She was to bring Vauquier's things down; but +Vauquier could follow by herself. Evidently Helene Vauquier was cleared. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A STARTLING DISCOVERY + + +Harry Wethermill, however, was not so easily satisfied. + +"Surely, monsieur, it would be well to know whither she is going," he +said, "and to make sure that when she has gone there she will stay +there--until we want her again?" + +Hanaud looked at the young man pityingly. + +"I can understand, monsieur, that you hold strong views about Helene +Vauquier. You are human, like the rest of us. And what she has said to +us just now would not make you more friendly. But--but--" and he +preferred to shrug his shoulders rather than to finish in words his +sentence. "However," he said, "we shall take care to know where Helene +Vauquier is staying. Indeed, if she is at all implicated in this affair +we shall learn more if we leave her free than if we keep her under lock +and key. You see that if we leave her quite free, but watch her very, +very carefully, so as to awaken no suspicion, she may be emboldened to +do something rash--or the others may." + +Mr. Ricardo approved of Hanaud's reasoning. + +"That is quite true," he said. "She might write a letter." + +"Yes, or receive one," added Hanaud, "which would be still more +satisfactory for us--supposing, of course, that she has anything to do +with this affair"; and again he shrugged his shoulders. He turned +towards the Commissaire. + +"You have a discreet officer whom you can trust?" he asked. + +"Certainly. A dozen." + +"I want only one." + +"And here he is," said the Commissaire. + +They were descending the stairs. On the landing of the first floor +Durette, the man who had discovered where the cord was bought, was +still waiting. Hanaud took Durette by the sleeve in the familiar way +which he so commonly used and led him to the top of the stairs, where +the two men stood for a few moments apart. It was plain that Hanaud was +giving, Durette receiving, definite instructions. Durette descended the +stairs; Hanaud came back to the others. + +"I have told him to fetch a cab," he said, "and convey Helene Vauquier +to her friends." Then he looked at Ricardo, and from Ricardo to the +Commissaire, while he rubbed his hand backwards and forwards across his +shaven chin. + +"I tell you," he said, "I find this sinister little drama very +interesting to me. The sordid, miserable struggle for mastery in this +household of Mme. Dauvray--eh? Yes, very interesting. Just as much +patience, just as much effort, just as much planning for this small end +as a general uses to defeat an army--and, at the last, nothing gained. +What else is politics? Yes, very interesting." + +His eyes rested upon Wethermill's face for a moment, but they gave the +young man no hope. He took a key from his pocket. + +"We need not keep this room locked," he said. "We know all that there +is to be known." And he inserted the key into the lock of Celia's room +and turned it. + +"But is that wise, monsieur?" said Besnard. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +"The case is in your hands," said the Commissaire. To Ricardo the +proceedings seemed singularly irregular. But if the Commissaire was +content, it was not for him to object. + +"And where is my excellent friend Perrichet?" asked Hanaud; and leaning +over the balustrade he called him up from the hall. + +"We will now," said Hanaud, "have a glance into this poor murdered +woman's room." + +The room was opposite to Celia's. Besnard produced the key and unlocked +the door. Hanaud took off his hat upon the threshold and then passed +into the room with his companions. Upon the bed, outlined under a +sheet, lay the rigid form of Mme. Dauvray. Hanaud stepped gently to the +bedside and reverently uncovered the face. For a moment all could see +it--livid, swollen, unhuman. + +"A brutal business," he said in a low voice, and when he turned again +to his companions his face was white and sickly. He replaced the sheet +and gazed about the room. + +It was decorated and furnished in the same style as the salon +downstairs, yet the contrast between the two rooms was remarkable. + +Downstairs, in the salon, only a chair had been overturned. Here there +was every sign of violence and disorder. An empty safe stood open in +one corner; the rugs upon the polished floor had been tossed aside; +every drawer had been torn open, every wardrobe burst; the very bed had +been moved from its position. + +"It was in this safe that Madame Dauvray hid her jewels each night," +said the Commissaire as Hanaud gazed about the room. + +"Oh, was it so?" Hanaud asked slowly. It seemed to Ricardo that he read +something in the aspect of this room too, which troubled his mind and +increased his perplexity. + +"Yes," said Besnard confidently. "Every night Mme. Dauvray locked her +jewels away in this safe. Vauquier told us so this morning. Every night +she was never too tired for that. Besides, here"--and putting his hand +into the safe he drew out a paper--"here is the list of Mme. Dauvray's +jewellery." + +Plainly, however, Hanaud was not satisfied. He took the list and +glanced through the items. But his thoughts were not concerned with it. + +"If that is so," he said slowly, "Mme. Dauvray kept her jewels in this +safe, why has every drawer been ransacked, why was the bed moved? +Perrichet, lock the door--quietly--from the inside. That is right. Now +lean your back against it." + +Hanaud waited until he saw Perrichet's broad back against the door. +Then he went down upon his knees, and, tossing the rugs here and there, +examined with the minutest care the inlaid floor. By the side of the +bed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread. This in its turn he moved +quickly aside. He bent his eyes to the ground, lay prone, moved this +way and that to catch the light upon the floor, then with a spring he +rose upon his knees. He lifted his finger to his lips. In a dead +silence he drew a pen-knife quickly from his pocket and opened it. He +bent down again and inserted the blade between the cracks of the +blocks. The three men in the room watched him with an intense +excitement. A block of wood rose from the floor, he pulled it out, laid +it noiselessly down, and inserted his hand into the opening. + +Wethermill at Ricardo's elbow uttered a stifled cry. "Hush!" whispered +Hanaud angrily. He drew out his hand again. It was holding a green +leather jewel-case. He opened it, and a diamond necklace flashed its +thousand colours in their faces. He thrust in his hand again and again +and again, and each time that he withdrew it, it held a jewel-case. +Before the astonished eyes of his companions he opened them. Ropes of +pearls, collars of diamonds, necklaces of emeralds, rings of +pigeon-blood rubies, bracelets of gold studded with opals--Mme. +Dauvray's various jewellery was disclosed. + +"But that is astounding," said Besnard, in an awe-struck voice. + +"Then she was never robbed after all?" cried Ricardo. + +Hanaud rose to his feet. + +"What a piece of irony!" he whispered. "The poor woman is murdered for +her jewels, the room's turned upside down, and nothing is found. For +all the while they lay safe in this cache. Nothing is taken except what +she wore. Let us see what she wore." + +"Only a few rings, Helene Vauquier thought," said Besnard. "But she was +not sure." + +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Well, let us make sure!" and, taking the list from +the safe, he compared it with the jewellery in the cases on the floor, +ticking off the items one by one. When he had finished he knelt down +again, and, thrusting his hand into the hole, felt carefully about. + +"There is a pearl necklace missing," he said. "A valuable necklace, +from the description in the list and some rings. She must have been +wearing them;" and he sat back upon his heels. "We will send the +intelligent Perrichet for a bag," he said, "and we will counsel the +intelligent Perrichet not to breathe a word to any living soul of what +he has seen in this room. Then we will seal up in the bag the jewels, +and we will hand it over to M. le Commissaire, who will convey it with +the greatest secrecy out of this villa. For the list--I will keep it," +and he placed it carefully in his pocket-book. + +He unlocked the door and went out himself on to the landing. He looked +down the stairs and up the stairs; then he beckoned Perrichet to him. + +"Go!" he whispered. "Be quick, and when you come back hide the bag +carefully under your coat." + +Perrichet went down the stairs with pride written upon his face. Was he +not assisting the great M. Hanaud from the Surete in Paris? Hanaud +returned into Mme. Dauvray's room and closed the door. He looked into +the eyes of his companions. + +"Can't you see the scene?" he asked with a queer smile of excitement. +He had forgotten Wethermill; he had forgotten even the dead woman +shrouded beneath the sheet. He was absorbed. His eyes were bright, his +whole face vivid with life. Ricardo saw the real man at this +moment--and feared for the happiness of Harry Wethermill. For nothing +would Hanaud now turn aside until he had reached the truth and set his +hands upon the quarry. Of that Ricardo felt sure. He was trying now to +make his companions visualise just what he saw and understood. + +"Can't you see it? The old woman locking up her jewels in this safe +every night before the eyes of her maid or her companion, and then, as +soon as she was alone, taking them stealthily out of the safe and +hiding them in this secret place. But I tell you--this is human. Yes, +it is interesting just because it is so human. Then picture to +yourselves last night, the murderers opening this safe and finding +nothing--oh, but nothing!--and ransacking the room in deadly haste, +kicking up the rugs, forcing open the drawers, and always finding +nothing--nothing--nothing. Think of their rage, their stupefaction, and +finally their fear! They must go, and with one pearl necklace, when +they had hoped to reap a great fortune. Oh, but this is +interesting--yes, I tell you--I, who have seen many strange +things--this is interesting." + +Perrichet returned with a canvas bag, into which Hanaud placed the +jewel-cases. He sealed the bag in the presence of the four men and +handed it to Besnard. He replaced the block of wood in the floor, +covered it over again with the rug, and rose to his feet. + +"Listen!" he said, in a low voice, and with a gravity which impressed +them all. "There is something in this house which I do not understand. +I have told you so. I tell you something more now. I am afraid--I am +afraid." And the word startled his hearers like a thunderclap, though +it was breathed no louder than a whisper, "Yes, my friends," he +repeated, nodding his head, "terribly afraid." And upon the others fell +a discomfort, an awe, as though something sinister and dangerous were +present in the room and close to them. So vivid was the feeling, +instinctively they drew nearer together. "Now, I warn you solemnly. +There must be no whisper that these jewels have been discovered; no +newspaper must publish a hint of it; no one must suspect that here in +this room we have found them. Is that understood?" + +"Certainly," said the Commissaire. + +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. + +"To be sure, monsieur," said Perrichet. + +As for Harry Wethermill, he made no reply. His burning eyes were fixed +upon Hanaud's face, and that was all. Hanaud, for his part, asked for +no reply from him. Indeed, he did not look towards Harry Wethermill's +face at all. Ricardo understood. Hanaud did not mean to be deterred by +the suffering written there. + +He went down again into the little gay salon lit with flowers and +August sunlight, and stood beside the couch gazing at it with troubled +eyes. And, as he gazed, he closed his eyes and shivered. He shivered +like a man who has taken a sudden chill. Nothing in all this morning's +investigations, not even the rigid body beneath the sheet, nor the +strange discovery of the jewels, had so impressed Ricardo. For there he +had been confronted with facts, definite and complete; here was a +suggestion of unknown horrors, a hint, not a fact, compelling the +imagination to dark conjecture. Hanaud shivered. That he had no idea +why Hanaud shivered made the action still more significant, still more +alarming. And it was not Ricardo alone who was moved by it. A voice of +despair rang through the room. The voice was Harry Wethermill's, and +his face was ashy white. + +"Monsieur!" he cried, "I do not know what makes you shudder; but I am +remembering a few words you used this morning." + +Hanaud turned upon his heel. His face was drawn and grey and his eyes +blazed. + +"My friend, I also am remembering those words," he said. Thus the two +men stood confronting one another, eye to eye, with awe and fear in +both their faces. + +Ricardo was wondering to what words they both referred, when the sound +of wheels broke in upon the silence. The effect upon Hanaud was +magical. He thrust his hands in his pockets. + +"Helene Vauquier's cab," he said lightly. He drew out his +cigarette-case and lighted a cigarette. + +"Let us see that poor woman safely off. It is a closed cab I hope." + +It was a closed landau. It drove past the open door of the salon to the +front door of the house. In Hanaud's wake they all went out into the +hall. The nurse came down alone carrying Helene Vauquier's bag. She +placed it in the cab and waited in the doorway. + +"Perhaps Helene Vauquier has fainted," she said anxiously: "she does +not come." And she moved towards the stairs. + +Hanaud took a singularly swift step forward and stopped her. + +"Why should you think that?" he asked, with a queer smile upon his +face, and as he spoke a door closed gently upstairs. "See," he +continued, "you are wrong: she is coming." + +Ricardo was puzzled. It had seemed to him that the door which had +closed so gently was nearer than Helene Vauquier's door. It seemed to +him that the door was upon the first, not the second landing. But +Hanaud had noticed nothing strange; so it could not be. He greeted +Helene Vauquier with a smile as she came down the stairs. + +"You are better, mademoiselle," he said politely. "One can see that. +There is more colour in your cheeks. A day or two, and you will be +yourself again." + +He held the door open while she got into the cab. The nurse took her +seat beside her; Durette mounted on the box. The cab turned and went +down the drive. + +"Goodbye, mademoiselle," cried Hanaud, and he watched until the high +shrubs hid the cab from his eyes. Then he behaved in an extraordinary +way. He turned and sprang like lightning up the stairs. His agility +amazed Ricardo. The others followed upon his heels. He flung himself at +Celia's door and opened it He burst into the room, stood for a second, +then ran to the window. He hid behind the curtain, looking out. With +his hand he waved to his companions to keep back. The sound of wheels +creaking and rasping rose to their ears. The cab had just come out into +the road. Durette upon the box turned and looked towards the house. +Just for a moment Hanaud leaned from the window, as Besnard, the +Commissaire, had done, and, like Besnard again, he waved his hand. Then +he came back into the room and saw, standing in front of him, with his +mouth open and his eyes starting out of his head, Perrichet--the +intelligent Perrichet. + +"Monsieur," cried Perrichet, "something has been taken from this room." + +Hanaud looked round the room and shook his head. + +"No," he said. + +"But yes, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "Oh, but yes. See! Upon this +dressing-table there was a small pot of cold cream. It stood here, +where my finger is, when we were in this room an hour ago. Now it is +gone." + +Hanaud burst into a laugh. + +"My friend Perrichet," he said ironically, "I will tell you the +newspaper did not do you justice. You are more intelligent. The truth, +my excellent friend, lies at the bottom of a well; but you would find +it at the bottom of a pot of cold cream. Now let us go. For in this +house, gentlemen, we have nothing more to do." + +He passed out of the room. Perrichet stood aside, his face crimson, his +attitude one of shame. He had been rebuked by the great M. Hanaud, and +justly rebuked. He knew it now. He had wished to display his +intelligence--yes, at all costs he must show how intelligent he was. +And he had shown himself a fool. He should have kept silence about that +pot of cream. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP + + +Hanaud walked away from the Villa Rose in the company of Wethermill and +Ricardo. + +"We will go and lunch," he said. + +"Yes; come to my hotel," said Harry Wethermill. But Hanaud shook his +head. + +"No; come with me to the Villa des Fleurs," he replied. "We may learn +something there; and in a case like this every minute is of importance. +We have to be quick." + +"I may come too?" cried Mr. Ricardo eagerly. + +"By all means," replied Hanaud, with a smile of extreme courtesy. +"Nothing could be more delicious than monsieur's suggestions"; and with +that remark he walked on silently. + +Mr. Ricardo was in a little doubt as to the exact significance of the +words. But he was too excited to dwell long upon them. Distressed +though he sought to be at his friend's grief, he could not but assume +an air of importance. All the artist in him rose joyfully to the +occasion. He looked upon himself from the outside. He fancied without +the slightest justification that people were pointing him out. "That +man has been present at the investigation at the Villa Rose," he seemed +to hear people say. "What strange things he could tell us if he would!" + +And suddenly, Mr. Ricardo began to reflect. What, after all, could he +have told them? + +And that question he turned over in his mind while he ate his luncheon. +Hanaud wrote a letter between the courses. They were sitting at a +corner table, and Hanaud was in the corner with his back to the wall. +He moved his plate, too, over the letter as he wrote it. It would have +been impossible for either of his guests to see what he had written, +even if they had wished. Ricardo, indeed, did wish. He rather resented +the secrecy with which the detective, under a show of openness, +shrouded his thoughts and acts. Hanaud sent the waiter out to fetch an +officer in plain clothes, who was in attendance at the door, and he +handed the letter to this man. Then he turned with an apology to his +guests. + +"It is necessary that we should find out," he explained, "as soon as +possible, the whole record of Mlle. Celie." + +He lighted a cigar, and over the coffee he put a question to Ricardo. + +"Now tell me what you make of the case. What M. Wethermill thinks--that +is clear, is it not? Helene Vauquier is the guilty one. But you, M. +Ricardo? What is your opinion?" + +Ricardo took from his pocket-book a sheet of paper and from his pocket +a pencil. He was intensely flattered by the request of Hanaud, and he +proposed to do himself justice. "I will make a note here of what I +think the salient features of the mystery"; and he proceeded to +tabulate the points in the following way: + +(1) Celia Harland made her entrance into Mme. Dauvray's household under +very doubtful circumstances. + +(2) By methods still more doubtful she acquired an extraordinary +ascendency over Mme. Dauvray's mind. + +(3) If proof were needed how complete that ascendency was, a glance at +Celia Harland's wardrobe would suffice; for she wore the most expensive +clothes. + +(4) It was Celia Harland who arranged that Servettaz, the chauffeur, +should be absent at Chambery on the Tuesday night--the night of the +murder. + +(5) It was Celia Harland who bought the cord with which Mme. Dauvray +was strangled and Helene Vauquier bound. + +(6) The footsteps outside the salon show that Celia Harland ran from +the salon to the motor-car. + +(7) Celia Harland pretended that there should be a seance on the +Tuesday, but she dressed as though she had in view an appointment with +a lover, instead of a spiritualistic seance. + +(8) Celia Harland has disappeared. + +These eight points are strongly suggestive of Celia Harland's +complicity in the murder. But I have no clue which will enable me to +answer the following questions: + +(a) Who was the man who took part in the crime? (b) Who was the woman +who came to the villa on the evening of the murder with Mme. Dauvray +and Celia Harland? + +(c) What actually happened in the salon? How was the murder committed? + +(d) Is Helene Vauquier's story true? + +(e) What did the torn-up scrap of writing mean? (Probably spirit +writing in Celia Harland's hand.) + +(f) Why has one cushion on the settee a small, fresh, brown stain, +which is probably blood? Why is the other cushion torn? + +Mr. Ricardo had a momentary thought of putting down yet another +question. He was inclined to ask whether or no a pot of cold cream had +disappeared from Celia Harland's bedroom; but he remembered that Hanaud +had set no store upon that incident, and he refrained. Moreover, he had +come to the end of his sheet of paper. He handed it across the table to +Hanaud and leaned back in his chair, watching the detective with all +the eagerness of a young author submitting his first effort to a critic. + +Hanaud read it through slowly. At the end he nodded his head in +approval. + +"Now we will see what M. Wethermill has to say," he said, and he +stretched out the paper towards Harry Wethermill, who throughout the +luncheon had not said a word. + +"No, no," cried Ricardo. + +But Harry Wethermill already held the written sheet in his hand. He +smiled rather wistfully at his friend. + +"It is best that I should know just what you both think," he said, and +in his turn he began to read the paper through. He read the first eight +points, and then beat with his fist upon the table. + +"No no," he cried; "it is not possible! I don't blame you, Ricardo. +These are facts, and, as I said, I can face facts. But there will be an +explanation--if only we can discover it." + +He buried his face for a moment in his hands. Then he took up the paper +again. + +"As for the rest, Helene Vauquier lied," he cried violently, and he +tossed the paper to Hanaud. "What do you make of it?" + +Hanaud smiled and shook his head. + +"Did you ever go for a voyage on a ship?" he asked. + +"Yes; why?" + +"Because every day at noon three officers take an observation to +determine the ship's position--the captain, the first officer, and the +second officer. Each writes his observation down, and the captain takes +the three observations and compares them. If the first or second +officer is out in his reckoning, the captain tells him so, but he does +not show his own. For at times, no doubt, he is wrong too. So, +gentlemen, I criticise your observations, but I do not show you mine." + +He took up Ricardo's paper and read it through again. + +"Yes," he said pleasantly. "But the two questions which are most +important, which alone can lead us to the truth--how do they come to be +omitted from your list, Mr. Ricardo?" + +Hanaud put the question with his most serious air. But Ricardo was none +the less sensible of the raillery behind the solemn manner. He flushed +and made no answer. + +"Still," continued Hanaud, "here are undoubtedly some questions. Let us +consider them! Who was the man who took a part in the crime? Ah, if we +only knew that, what a lot of trouble we should save ourselves! Who was +the woman? What a good thing it would be to know that too! How clearly, +after all, Mr. Ricardo puts his finger on the important points! What +did actually happen in the salon?" And as he quoted that question the +raillery died out of his voice. He leaned his elbows on the table and +bent forward. + +"What did actually happen in that little pretty room, just twelve hours +ago?" he repeated. "When no sunlight blazed upon the lawn, and all the +birds were still, and all the windows shuttered and the world dark, +what happened? What dreadful things happened? We have not much to go +upon. Let us formulate what we know. We start with this. The murder was +not the work of a moment. It was planned with great care and cunning, +and carried out to the letter of the plan. There must be no noise, no +violence. On each side of the Villa Rose there are other villas; a few +yards away the road runs past. A scream, a cry, the noise of a +struggle--these sounds, or any one of them, might be fatal to success. +Thus the crime was planned; and there WAS no scream, there WAS no +struggle. Not a chair was broken, and only a chair upset. Yes, there +were brains behind that murder. We know that. But what do we know of +the plan? How far can we build it up? Let us see. First, there was an +accomplice in the house--perhaps two." + +"No!" cried Harry Wethermill. + +Hanaud took no notice of the interruption. + +"Secondly the woman came to the house with Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. Celie +between nine and half-past nine. Thirdly, the man came afterwards, but +before eleven, set open the gate, and was admitted into the salon, +unperceived by Mme. Dauvray. That also we can safely assume. But what +happened in the salon? Ah! There is the question." Then he shrugged his +shoulders and said with the note of raillery once more in his voice: + +"But why should we trouble our heads to puzzle out this mystery, since +M. Ricardo knows?" + +"I?" cried Ricardo in amazement. + +"To be sure," replied Hanaud calmly. "For I look at another of your +questions. 'WHAT DID THE TORN-UP SCRAP OF WRITING MEAN?' and you add: +'Probably spirit-writing.' Then there was a seance held last night in +the little salon! Is that so?" + +Harry Wethermill started. Mr. Ricardo was at a loss. + +"I had not followed my suggestion to its conclusion," he admitted +humbly. + +"No," said Hanaud. "But I ask myself in sober earnest, 'Was there a +seance held in the salon last night?' Did the tambourine rattle in the +darkness on the wall?" + +"But if Helene Vauquier's story is all untrue?" cried Wethermill, again +in exasperation. + +"Patience, my friend. Her story was not all untrue. I say there were +brains behind this crime; yes, but brains, even the cleverest, would +not have invented this queer, strange story of the seances and of Mme. +de Montespan. That is truth. But yet, if there were a seance held, if +the scrap of paper were spirit-writing in answer to some awkward +question, why--and here I come to my first question, which M. Ricardo +has omitted--why did Mlle. Celie dress herself with so much elegance +last night? What Vauquier said is true. Her dress was not suited to a +seance. A light-coloured, rustling frock, which would be visible in a +dim light, or even in the dark, which would certainly be heard at every +movement she made, however lightly she stepped, and a big hat--no no! I +tell you, gentlemen, we shall not get to the bottom of this mystery +until we know why Mlle. Celie dressed herself as she did last night." + +"Yes," Ricardo admitted. "I overlooked that point." "Did she--" Hanaud +broke off and bowed to Wethermill with a grace and a respect which +condoned his words. "You must bear with me, my young friend, while I +consider all these points. Did she expect to join that night a lover--a +man with the brains to devise this crime? But if so--and here I come to +the second question omitted from M. Ricardo's list--why, on the patch +of grass outside the door of the salon, were the footsteps of the man +and woman so carefully erased, and the footsteps of Mlle. Celie--those +little footsteps so easily identified--left for all the world to see +and recognise?" + +Ricardo felt like a child in the presence of his schoolmaster. He was +convicted of presumption. He had set down his questions with the belief +that they covered the ground. And here were two of the utmost +importance, not forgotten, but never even thought of. + +"Did she go, before the murder, to join a lover? Or after it? At some +time, you will remember, according to Vauquier's story, she must have +run upstairs to fetch her coat. Was the murder committed during the +interval when she was upstairs? Was the salon dark when she came down +again? Did she run through it quickly, eagerly, noticing nothing amiss? +And, indeed, how should she notice anything if the salon were dark, and +Mme. Dauvray's body lay under the windows at the side?" + +Ricardo leaned forward eagerly. + +"That must be the truth," he cried; and Wethermill's voice broke +hastily in: + +"It is not the truth and I will tell you why. Celia Harland was to have +married me this week." + +There was so much pain and misery in his voice that Ricardo was moved +as he had seldom been. Wethermill buried his face in his hands. Hanaud +shook his head and gazed across the table at Ricardo with an expression +which the latter was at no loss to understand. Lovers were +impracticable people. But he--Hanaud--he knew the world. Women had +fooled men before to-day. + +Wethermill snatched his hands away from before his face. + +"We talk theories," he cried desperately, "of what may have happened at +the villa. But we are not by one inch nearer to the man and woman who +committed the crime. It is for them we have to search." + +"Yes; but except by asking ourselves questions, how shall we find them, +M. Wethermill?" said Hanaud. "Take the man! We know nothing of him. He +has left no trace. Look at this town of Aix, where people come and go +like a crowd about the baccarat-table! He may be at Marseilles to-day. +He may be in this very room where we are taking our luncheon. How shall +we find him?" + +Wethermill nodded his head in a despairing assent. + +"I know. But it is so hard to sit still and do nothing," he cried. + +"Yes, but we are not sitting still," said Hanaud; and Wethermill looked +up with a sudden interest. "All the time that we have been lunching +here the intelligent Perrichet has been making inquiries. Mme. Dauvray +and Mlle. Celie left the Villa Rose at five, and returned on foot soon +after nine with the strange woman. And there I see Perrichet himself +waiting to be summoned." + +Hanaud beckoned towards the sergent-de-ville. + +"Perrichet will make an excellent detective," he said; "for he looks +more bovine and foolish in plain clothes than he does in uniform." + +Perrichet advanced in his mufti to the table. + +"Speak, my friend," said Hanaud. + +"I went to the shop of M. Corval. Mlle. Celie was quite alone when she +bought the cord. But a few minutes later, in the Rue du Casino, she and +Mme. Dauvray were seen together, walking slowly in the direction of the +villa. No other woman was with them." + +"That is a pity," said Hanaud quietly, and with a gesture he dismissed +Perrichet. + +"You see, we shall find out nothing--nothing," said Wethermill, with a +groan. + +"We must not yet lose heart, for we know a little more about the woman +than we do about the man," said Hanaud consolingly. + +"True," exclaimed Ricardo. "We have Helene Vauquier's description of +her. We must advertise it." + +Hanaud smiled. + +"But that is a fine suggestion," he cried. "We must think over that," +and he clapped his hand to his forehead with a gesture of +self-reproach. "Why did not such a fine idea occur to me, fool that I +am! However, we will call the head waiter." + +The head waiter was sent for and appeared before them. + +"You knew Mme. Dauvray?" Hanaud asked. + +"Yes, monsieur--oh, the poor woman! And he flung up his hands. + +"And you knew her young companion?" + +"Oh yes, monsieur. They generally had their meals here. See, at that +little table over there! I kept it for them. But monsieur knows +well"--and the waiter looked towards Harry Wethermill--"for monsieur +was often with them." + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "Did Mme. Dauvray dine at that little table last +night?" + +"No, monsieur. She was not here last night." + +"Nor Mlle. Celie?" + +"No, monsieur! I do not think they were in the Villa des Fleurs at all." + +"We know they were not," exclaimed Ricardo. "Wethermill and I were in +the rooms and we did not see them." + +"But perhaps you left early," objected Hanaud. + +"No," said Ricardo. "It was just ten o'clock when we reached the +Majestic." + +"You reached your hotel at ten," Hanaud repeated. "Did you walk +straight from here?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you left here about a quarter to ten. And we know that Mme. +Dauvray was back at the villa soon after nine. Yes--they could not have +been here last night," Hanaud agreed, and sat for a moment silent. Then +he turned to the head waiter. + +"Have you noticed any woman with Mme. Dauvray and her companion lately?" + +"No, monsieur. I do not think so." + +"Think! A woman, for instance, with red hair." + +Harry Wethermill started forward. Mr. Ricardo stared at Hanaud in +amazement. The waiter reflected. + +"No, monsieur. I have seen no woman with red hair." + +"Thank you," said Hanaud, and the waiter moved away. + +"A woman with red hair!" cried Wethermill. "But Helene Vauquier +described her. She was sallow; her eyes, her hair, were dark." + +Hanaud turned with a smile to Harry Wethermill. + +"Did Helene Vauquier, then, speak the truth?" he asked. "No; the woman +who was in the salon last night, who returned home with Mme. Dauvray +and Mlle. Celie, was not a woman with black hair and bright black eyes. +Look!" And, fetching his pocket-book from his pocket, he unfolded a +sheet of paper and showed them, lying upon its white surface a long red +hair. + +"I picked that up on the table--the round satinwood table in the salon. +It was easy not to see it, but I did see it. Now, that is not Mlle. +Celie's hair, which is fair; nor Mme. Dauvray's, which is dyed brown; +nor Helene Vauquier's, which is black; nor the charwoman's, which, as I +have taken the trouble to find out, is grey. It is therefore from the +head of our unknown woman. And I will tell you more. This woman with +the red hair--she is in Geneva." + +A startled exclamation burst from Ricardo. Harry Wethermill sat slowly +down. For the first time that day there had come some colour into his +cheeks, a sparkle into his eye. + +"But that is wonderful!" he cried. "How did you find that out?" + +Hanaud leaned back in his chair and took a pull at his cigar. He was +obviously pleased with Wethermill's admiration. + +"Yes, how did you find it out?" Ricardo repeated. + +Hanaud smiled. + +"As to that," he said, "remember I am the captain of the ship, and I do +not show you my observation." Ricardo was disappointed. Harry +Wethermill, however, started to his feet. + +"We must search Geneva, then," he cried. "It is there that we should +be, not here drinking our coffee at the Villa des Fleurs." + +Hanaud raised his hand. + +"The search is not being overlooked. But Geneva is a big city. It is +not easy to search Geneva and find, when we know nothing about the +woman for whom we are searching, except that her hair is red, and that +probably a young girl last night was with her. It is rather here, I +think--in Aix--that we must keep our eyes wide open." + +"Here!" cried Wethermill in exasperation. He stared at Hanaud as though +he were mad. + +"Yes, here; at the post office--at the telephone exchange. Suppose that +the man is in Aix, as he may well be; some time he will wish to send a +letter, or a telegram, or a message over the telephone. That, I tell +you, is our chance. But here is news for us." + +Hanaud pointed to a messenger who was walking towards them. The man +handed Hanaud an envelope. + +"From M. le Commissaire," he said; and he saluted and retired. "From M. +le Commissaire?" cried Ricardo excitedly. + +But before Hanaud could open the envelope Harry Wethermill laid a hand +upon his sleeve. + +"Before we pass to something new, M. Hanaud," he said, "I should be +very glad if you would tell me what made you shiver in the salon this +morning. It has distressed me ever since. What was it that those two +cushions had to tell you?" + +There was a note of anguish in his voice difficult to resist. But +Hanaud resisted it. He shook his head. + +"Again," he said gravely, "I am to remind you that I am captain of the +ship and do not show my observation." + +He tore open the envelope and sprang up from his seat. + +"Mme. Dauvray's motor-car has been found," he cried. "Let us go!" + +Hanaud called for the bill and paid it. The three men left the Villa +des Fleurs together. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MME. DAUVRAY'S MOTOR-CAR + + +They got into a cab outside the door. Perrichet mounted the box, and +the cab was driven along the upward-winding road past the Hotel +Bernascon. A hundred yards beyond the hotel the cab stopped opposite to +a villa. A hedge separated the garden of the villa from the road, and +above the hedge rose a board with the words "To Let" upon it. At the +gate a gendarme was standing, and just within the gate Ricardo saw +Louis Besnard, the Commissaire, and Servettaz, Mme. Dauvray's chauffeur. + +"It is here," said Besnard, as the party descended from the cab, "in +the coach-house of this empty villa." + +"Here?" cried Ricardo in amazement. + +The discovery upset all his theories. He had expected to hear that it +had been found fifty leagues away; but here, within a couple of miles +of the Villa Rose itself--the idea seemed absurd! Why take it away at +all--unless it was taken away as a blind? That supposition found its +way into Ricardo's mind, and gathered strength as he thought upon it; +for Hanaud had seemed to lean to the belief that one of the murderers +might be still in Aix. Indeed, a glance at him showed that he was not +discomposed by their discovery. + +"When was it found?" Hanaud asked. + +"This morning. A gardener comes to the villa on two days a week to keep +the grounds in order. Fortunately Wednesday is one of his days. +Fortunately, too, there was rain yesterday evening. He noticed the +tracks of the wheels which you can see on the gravel, and since the +villa is empty he was surprised. He found the coach-house door forced +and the motor-car inside it. When he went to his luncheon he brought +the news of his discovery to the depot." + +The party followed the Commissaire along the drive to the coach-house. + +"We will have the car brought out," said Hanaud to Servettaz. + +It was a big and powerful machine with a limousine body, luxuriously +fitted and cushioned in the shade of light grey. The outside panels of +the car were painted a dark grey. The car had hardly been brought out +into the sunlight before a cry of stupefaction burst from the lips of +Perrichet. + +"Oh!" he cried, in utter abasement. "I shall never forgive +myself--never, never!" + +"Why?" Hanaud asked, turning sharply as he spoke. + +Perrichet was standing with his round eyes staring and his mouth agape. + +"Because, monsieur, I saw that car--at four o'clock this morning--at +the corner of the road--not fifty yards from the Villa Rose." + +"What!" cried Ricardo. + +"You saw it!" exclaimed Wethermill. + +Upon their faces was reflected now the stupefaction of Perrichet. + +"But you must have made a mistake," said the Commissaire. + +"No, no, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "It was that car. It was that +number. It was just after daylight. I was standing outside the gate of +the villa on duty where M. le Commissaire had placed me. The car +appeared at the corner and slackened speed. It seemed to me that it was +going to turn into the road and come down past me. But instead the +driver, as if he were now sure of his way, put the car at its top speed +and went on into Aix." + +"Was any one inside the car?" asked Hanaud. + +"No, monsieur; it was empty." + +"But you saw the driver!" exclaimed Wethermill. + +"Yes; what was he like?" cried the Commissaire. + +Perrichet shook his head mournfully. + +"He wore a talc mask over the upper part of his face, and had a little +black moustache, and was dressed in a heavy great-coat of blue with a +white collar." + +"That is my coat, monsieur," said Servettaz, and as he spoke he lifted +it up from the chauffeur's seat. "It is Mme. Dauvray's livery." + +Harry Wethermill groaned aloud. + +"We have lost him. He was within our grasp--he, the murderer!--and he +was allowed to go!" + +Perrichet's grief was pitiable. + +"Monsieur," he pleaded, "a car slackens its speed and goes on again--it +is not so unusual a thing. I did not know the number of Mme. Dauvray's +car. I did not even know that it had disappeared"; and suddenly tears +of mortification filled his eyes. "But why do I make these excuses?" he +cried. "It is better, M. Hanaud, that I go back to my uniform and stand +at the street corner. I am as foolish as I look." + +"Nonsense, my friend," said Hanaud, clapping the disconsolate man upon +the shoulder. "You remembered the car and its number. That is +something--and perhaps a great deal," he added gravely. "As for the +talc mask and the black moustache, that is not much to help us, it is +true." He looked at Ricardo's crestfallen face and smiled. "We might +arrest our good friend M. Ricardo upon that evidence, but no one else +that I know." + +Hanaud laughed immoderately at his joke. He alone seemed to feel no +disappointment at Perrichet's oversight. Ricardo was a little touchy on +the subject of his personal appearance, and bridled visibly. Hanaud +turned towards Servettaz. + +"Now," he said, "you know how much petrol was taken from the garage?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Can you tell me, by the amount which has been used, how far that car +was driven last night?" Hanaud asked. + +Servettaz examined the tank. + +"A long way, monsieur. From a hundred and thirty to a hundred and fifty +kilometres, I should say." + +"Yes, just about that distance, I should say," cried Hanaud. + +His eyes brightened, and a smile, a rather fierce smile, came to his +lips. He opened the door, and examined with a minute scrutiny the floor +of the carriage, and as he looked, the smile faded from his face. +Perplexity returned to it. He took the cushions, looked them over and +shook them out. + +"I see no sign--" he began, and then he uttered a little shrill cry of +satisfaction. From the crack of the door by the hinge he picked off a +tiny piece of pale green stuff, which he spread out upon the back of +his hand. + +"Tell me, what is this?" he said to Ricardo. + +"It is a green fabric," said Ricardo very wisely. + +"It is green chiffon," said Hanaud. "And the frock in which Mlle. Celie +went away was of green chiffon over satin. Yes, Mlle. Celie travelled +in this car." + +He hurried to the driver's seat. Upon the floor there was some dark +mould. Hanaud cleaned it off with his knife and held some of it in the +palm of his hand. He turned to Servettaz. + +"You drove the car on Tuesday morning before you went to Chambery?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Where did you take up Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. Celie?" + +"At the front door of the Villa Rose." + +"Did you get down from the seat at all?" + +"No, monsieur; not after I left the garage." + +Hanaud returned to his companions. + +"See!" And he opened his hand. "This is black soil--moist from last +night's rain--soil like the soil in front of Mme. Dauvray's salon. +Look, here is even a blade or two of the grass"; and he turned the +mould over in the palm of his hand. Then he took an empty envelope from +his pocket and poured the soil into it and gummed the flap down. He +stood and frowned at the motor-car. + +"Listen," he said, "how I am puzzled! There was a man last night at the +Villa Rose. There were a man's blurred footmarks in the mould before +the glass door. That man drove madame's car for a hundred and fifty +kilometres, and he leaves the mould which clung to his boots upon the +floor of his seat. Mlle. Celie and another woman drove away inside the +car. Mlle. Celie leaves a fragment of the chiffon tunic of her frock +which caught in the hinge. But Mlle. Celie made much clearer +impressions in the mould than the man. Yet on the floor of the carriage +there is no trace of her shoes. Again I say there is something here +which I do not understand." And he spread out his hands with an +impulsive gesture of despair. + +"It looks as if they had been careful and he careless," said Mr. +Ricardo, with the air of a man solving a very difficult problem. + +"What a mind!" cried Hanaud, now clasping his hands together in +admiration. "How quick and how profound!" + +There was at times something elephantinely elfish in M. Hanaud's +demeanour, which left Mr. Ricardo at a loss. But he had come to notice +that these undignified manifestations usually took place when Hanaud +had reached a definite opinion upon some point which had perplexed him. + +"Yet there is perhaps, another explanation," Hanaud continued. "For +observe, M. Ricardo. We have other evidence to show that the careless +one was Mlle. Celie. It was she who left her footsteps so plainly +visible upon the grass, not the man. However, we will go back to M. +Wethermill's room at the Hotel Majestic and talk this matter over. We +know something now. Yes, we know--what do we know, monsieur?" he asked, +suddenly turning with a smile to Ricardo, and, as Ricardo paused: +"Think it over while we walk down to M. Wethermill's apartment in the +Hotel Majestic." + +"We know that the murderer has escaped," replied Ricardo hotly. + +"The murderer is not now the most important object of our search. He is +very likely at Marseilles by now. We shall lay our hands on him, never +fear," replied Hanaud, with a superb gesture of disdain. "But it was +thoughtful of you to remind me of him. I might so easily have clean +forgotten him, and then indeed my reputation would have suffered an +eclipse." He made a low, ironical bow to Ricardo and walked quickly +down the road. + +"For a cumbersome man he is extraordinarily active," said Mr. Ricardo +to Harry Wethermill, trying to laugh, without much success. "A heavy, +clever, middle-aged man, liable to become a little gutter-boy at a +moment's notice." + +Thus he described the great detective, and the description is quoted. +For it was Ricardo's best effort in the whole of this business. + +The three men went straight to Harry Wethermill's apartment, which +consisted of a sitting-room and a bedroom on the first floor. A balcony +ran along outside. Hanaud stepped out on to it, looked about him, and +returned. + +"It is as well to know that we cannot be overheard," he said. + +Harry Wethermill meanwhile had thrown himself into a chair. The mask he +had worn had slipped from its fastenings for a moment. There was a look +of infinite suffering upon his face. It was the face of a man tortured +by misery to the snapping-point. + +Hanaud, on the other hand, was particularly alert. The discovery of the +motor-car had raised his spirits. He sat at the table. + +"I will tell you what we have learnt," he said, "and it is of +importance. The three of them--the man, the woman with the red hair, +and Mlle. Celie--all drove yesterday night to Geneva. That is only one +thing we have learnt." + +"Then you still cling to Geneva?" said Ricardo. + +"More than ever," said Hanaud. + +He turned in his chair towards Wethermill. + +"Ah, my poor friend!" he said, when he saw the young man's distress. + +Harry Wethermill sprang up with a gesture as though to sweep the need +of sympathy away. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked. + +"You have a road map, perhaps?" said Hanaud. + +"Yes," said Wethermill, "mine is here. There it is"; and crossing the +room he brought it from a sidetable and placed it in front of Hanaud. + +Hanaud took a pencil from his pocket. + +"One hundred and fifty kilometres was about the distance which the car +had travelled. Measure the distances here, and you will see that Geneva +is the likely place. It is a good city to hide in. Moreover the car +appears at the corner at daylight. How does it appear there? What road +is it which comes out at that corner? The road from Geneva. I am not +sorry that it is Geneva, for the Chef de la Surete is a friend of mine." + +"And what else do we know?" asked Ricardo. + +"This," said Hanaud. He paused impressively. "Bring up your chair to +the table, M. Wethermill, and consider whether I am right or wrong"; +and he waited until Harry Wethermill had obeyed. Then he laughed in a +friendly way at himself. + +"I cannot help it," he said; "I have an eye for dramatic effects. I +must prepare for them when I know they are coming. And one, I tell you, +is coming now." + +He shook his finger at his companions. Ricardo shifted and shuffled in +his chair. Harry Wethermill kept his eyes fixed on Hanaud's face, but +he was quiet, as he had been throughout the long inquiry. + +Hanaud lit a cigarette and took his time. + +"What I think is this. The man who drove the car into Geneva drove it +back, because--he meant to leave it again in the garage of the Villa +Rose." + +"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, flinging himself back. The theory so +calmly enunciated took his breath away. + +"Would he have dared?" asked Harry Wethermill. + +Hanaud leaned across and tapped his fingers on the table to emphasise +his answer. + +"All through this crime there are two things visible--brains and +daring; clever brains and extraordinary daring. Would he have dared? He +dared to be at the corner close to the Villa Rose at daylight. Why else +should he have returned except to put back the car? Consider! The +petrol is taken from tins which Servettaz might never have touched for +a fortnight, and by that time he might, as he said, have forgotten +whether he had not used them himself. I had this possibility in my mind +when I put the questions to Servettaz about the petrol which the +Commissaire thought so stupid. The utmost care is taken that there +shall be no mould left on the floor of the carriage. The scrap of +chiffon was torn off, no doubt, when the women finally left the car, +and therefore not noticed, or that, too, would have been removed. That +the exterior of the car was dirty betrayed nothing, for Servettaz had +left it uncleaned." + +Hanaud leaned back and, step by step, related the journey of the car. + +"The man leaves the gate open; he drives into Geneva the two women, who +are careful that their shoes shall leave no marks upon the floor. At +Geneva they get out. The man returns. If he can only leave the car in +the garage he covers all traces of the course he and his friends have +taken. No one would suspect that the car had ever left the garage. At +the corner of the road, just as he is turning down to the villa, he +sees a sergent-de-ville at the gate. He knows that the murder is +discovered. He puts on full speed and goes straight out of the town. +What is he to do? He is driving a car for which the police in an hour +or two, if not now already, will be surely watching. He is driving it +in broad daylight. He must get rid of it, and at once, before people +are about to see it, and to see him in it. Imagine his feelings! It is +almost enough to make one pity him. Here he is in a car which convicts +him as a murderer, and he has nowhere to leave it. He drives through +Aix. Then on the outskirts of the town he finds an empty villa. He +drives in at the gate, forces the door of the coach-house, and leaves +his car there. Now, observe! It is no longer any use for him to pretend +that he and his friends did not disappear in that car. The murder is +already discovered, and with the murder the disappearance of the car. +So he no longer troubles his head about it. He does not remove the +traces of mould from the place where his feet rested, which otherwise, +no doubt, he would have done. It no longer matters. He has to run to +earth now before he is seen. That is all his business. And so the state +of the car is explained. It was a bold step to bring that car +back--yes, a bold and desperate step. But a clever one. For, if it had +succeeded, we should have known nothing of their movements--oh, but +nothing--nothing. Ah! I tell you this is no ordinary blundering affair. +They are clever people who devised this crime--clever, and of an +audacity which is surprising." + +Then Hanaud lit another cigarette. + +Mr. Ricardo, on the other hand, could hardly continue to smoke for +excitement. + +"I cannot understand your calmness," he exclaimed. + +"No?" said Hanaud. "Yet it is so obvious. You are the amateur, I am the +professional--that is all." + +He looked at his watch and rose to his feet. + +"I must go" he said and as he turned towards the door a cry sprang from +Mr. Ricardo's lips "It is true. I am the amateur. Yet I have knowledge, +Monsieur Hanaud which the professional would do well to obtain." + +Hanaud turned a guarded face towards Ricardo. There was no longer any +raillery in his manner. He spoke slowly, coldly. + +"Let me have it then!" + +"I have driven in my motor-car from Geneva to Aix," Ricardo cried +excitedly. "A bridge crosses a ravine high up amongst the mountains. At +the bridge there is a Custom House. There--at the Pont de la +Caille--your car is stopped. It is searched. You must sign your name in +a book. And there is no way round. You would find sure and certain +proof whether or no Madame Dauvray's car travelled last night to +Geneva. Not so many travellers pass along that road at night. You would +find certain proof too of how many people were in the car. For they +search carefully at the Pont de la Caille." + +A dark flush overspread Hanaud's face. Ricardo was in the seventh +Heaven. He had at last contributed something to the history of this +crime. He had repaired an omission. He had supplied knowledge to the +omniscient. Wethermill looked up drearily like one who has lost heart. + +"Yes, you must not neglect that clue," he said. + +Hanaud replied testily: + +"It is not a clue. M. Ricardo tells that he travelled from Geneva into +France and that his car was searched. Well, we know already that the +officers are particular at the Custom Houses of France. But travelling +from France into Switzerland is a very different affair. In +Switzerland, hardly a glance, hardly a word." That was true. M. Ricardo +crestfallen recognized the truth. But his spirits rose again at once. +"But the car came back from Geneva into France!" he cried. + +"Yes, but when the car came back, the man was alone in it," Hanaud +answered. "I have more important things to attend to. For instance I +must know whether by any chance they have caught our man at +Marseilles." He laid his hand on Wethermill's shoulder. "And you, my +friend, I should counsel you to get some sleep. We may need all our +strength to-morrow. I hope so." He was speaking very bravely. "Yes, I +hope so." + +Wethermill nodded. + +"I shall try," he said. + +"That's better," said Hanaud cheerfully. "You will both stay here this +evening; for if I have news, I can then ring you up." + +Both men agreed, and Hanaud went away. He left Mr. Ricardo profoundly +disturbed. "That man will take advice from no one," he declared. "His +vanity is colossal. It is true they are not particular at the Swiss +Frontier. Still the car would have to stop there. At the Custom House +they would know something. Hanaud ought to make inquiries." But neither +Ricardo nor Harry Wethermill heard a word more from Hanaud that night. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +NEWS FROM GENEVA + + +The next morning, however, before Mr. Ricardo was out of his bed, M. +Hanaud was announced. He came stepping gaily into the room, more +elephantinely elfish than ever. + +"Send your valet away," he said. And as soon as they were alone he +produced a newspaper, which he flourished in Mr. Ricardo's face and +then dropped into his hands. + +Ricardo saw staring him in the face a full description of Celia +Harland, of her appearance and her dress, of everything except her +name, coupled with an intimation that a reward of four thousand francs +would be paid to any one who could give information leading to the +discovery of her whereabouts to Mr. Ricardo, the Hotel Majestic, +Aix-les-Bains! + +Mr. Ricardo sat up in his bed with a sense of outrage. + +"You have done this?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Why have you done it?" Mr. Ricardo cried. + +Hanaud advanced to the bed mysteriously on the tips of his toes. + +"I will tell you," he said, in his most confidential tones. "Only it +must remain a secret between you and me. I did it--because I have a +sense of humour." + +"I hate publicity," said Mr. Ricardo acidly. + +"On the other hand you have four thousand francs," protested the +detective. "Besides, what else should I do? If I name myself, the very +people we are seeking to catch--who, you may be sure, will be the first +to read this advertisement--will know that I, the great, the +incomparable Hanaud, am after them; and I do not want them to know +that. Besides"--and he spoke now in a gentle and most serious +voice--"why should we make life more difficult for Mlle. Celie by +telling the world that the police want her? It will be time enough for +that when she appears before the Juge d'Instruction." + +Mr. Ricardo grumbled inarticulately, and read through the advertisement +again. + +"Besides, your description is incomplete," he said. "There is no +mention of the diamond earrings which Celia Harland was wearing when +she went away." + +"Ah! so you noticed that!" exclaimed Hanaud. "A little more experience +and I should be looking very closely to my laurels. But as for the +earrings--I will tell you. Mlle. Celie was not wearing them when she +went away from the Villa Rose." + +"But--but," stammered Ricardo, "the case upon the dressing-room table +was empty." + +"Still, she was not wearing them, I know," said Hanaud decisively. + +"How do you know?" cried Ricardo, gazing at Hanaud with awe in his +eyes. "How could you know?" + +"Because"--and Hanaud struck a majestic attitude, like a king in a +play--"because I am the captain of the ship." + +Upon that Mr. Ricardo suffered a return of his ill-humour. + +"I do not like to be trifled with," he remarked, with as much dignity +as his ruffled hair and the bed-clothes allowed him. He looked sternly +at the newspaper, turning it over, and then he uttered a cry of +surprise. + +"But this is yesterday's paper!" he said. + +"Yesterday evening's paper," Hanaud corrected. + +"Printed at Geneva!" + +"Printed, and published and sold at Geneva," said Hanaud. + +"When did you send the advertisement in, then?" + +"I wrote a letter while we were taking our luncheon," Hanaud explained. +"The letter was to Besnard, asking him to telegraph the advertisement +at once." + +"But you never said a word about it to us," Ricardo grumbled. + +"No. And was I not wise?" said Hanaud, with complacency. "For you would +have forbidden me to use your name." + +"Oh, I don't go so far as that," said Ricardo reluctantly. His +indignation was rapidly evaporating. For there was growing up in his +mind a pleasant perception that the advertisement placed him in the +limelight. + +He rose from his bed. + +"You will make yourself comfortable in the sitting-room while I have my +bath." + +"I will, indeed," replied Hanaud cheerily. "I have already ordered my +morning chocolate. I have hopes that you may have a telegram very soon. +This paper was cried last night through the streets of Geneva." + +Ricardo dressed for once in a way with some approach to ordinary +celerity, and joined Hanaud. + +"Has nothing come?" he asked. + +"No. This chocolate is very good; it is better than that which I get in +my hotel." + +"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, who was fairly twittering with +excitement. "You sit there talking about chocolate while my cup shakes +in my fingers." + +"Again I must remind you that you are the amateur, I the professional, +my friend." + +As the morning drew on, however, Hanaud's professional quietude +deserted him. He began to start at the sound of footsteps in the +corridor, to glance every other moment from the window, to eat his +cigarettes rather than to smoke them. At eleven o'clock Ricardo's valet +brought a telegram into the room. Ricardo seized it. + +"Calmly, my friend," said Hanaud. + +With trembling fingers Ricardo tore it open. He jumped in his chair. +Speechless, he handed the telegram to Hanaud. It had been sent from +Geneva, and it ran thus: + +"Expect me soon after three.--MARTHE GOBIN." + +Hanaud nodded his head. + +"I told you I had hopes." All his levity had gone in an instant from +his manner. He spoke very quietly. + +"I had better send for Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you like. But why raise hopes in that poor man's breast which an +hour or two may dash for ever to the ground? Consider! Marthe Gobin has +something to tell us. Think over those eight points of evidence which +you drew up yesterday in the Villa des Fleurs, and say whether what she +has to tell us is more likely to prove Mlle. Celie's innocence than her +guilt. Think well, for I will be guided by you, M. Ricardo," said +Hanaud solemnly. "If you think it better that your friend should live +in torture until Marthe Gobin comes, and then perhaps suffer worse +torture from the news she brings, be it so. You shall decide. If, on +the other hand, you think it will be best to leave M. Wethermill in +peace until we know her story, be it so. You shall decide." + +Ricardo moved uneasily. The solemnity of Hanaud's manner impressed him. +He had no wish to take the responsibility of the decision upon himself. +But Hanaud sat with his eyes strangely fixed upon Ricardo, waiting for +his answer. + +"Well," said Ricardo, at length, "good news will be none the worse for +waiting a few hours. Bad news will be a little the better." + +"Yes," said Hanaud; "so I thought you would decide." He took up a +Continental Bradshaw from a bookshelf in the room. "From Geneva she +will come through Culoz. Let us see!" He turned over the pages. "There +is a train from Culoz which reaches Aix at seven minutes past three. It +is by that train she will come. You have a motor-car?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well. Will you pick me up in it at three at my hotel? We will +drive down to the station and see the arrivals by that train. It may +help us to get some idea of the person with whom we have to deal. That +is always an advantage. Now I will leave you, for I have much to do. +But I will look in upon M. Wethermill as I go down and tell him that +there is as yet no news." + +He took up his hat and stick, and stood for a moment staring out of the +window. Then he roused himself from his reverie with a start. + +"You look out upon Mont Revard, I see. I think M. Wethermill's view +over the garden and the town is the better one," he said, and went out +of the room. + +At three o'clock Ricardo called in his car, which was an open car of +high power, at Hanaud's hotel, and the two men went to the station. +They waited outside the exit while the passengers gave up their +tickets. Amongst them a middle-aged, short woman, of a plethoric +tendency, attracted their notice. She was neatly but shabbily dressed +in black; her gloves were darned, and she was obviously in a hurry. As +she came out she asked a commissionaire: + +"How far is it to the Hotel Majestic?" + +The man told her the hotel was at the very top of the town, and the way +was steep. + +"But madame can go up in the omnibus of the hotel," he suggested. + +Madame, however, was in too much of a hurry. The omnibus would have to +wait for luggage. She hailed a closed cab and drove off inside it. + +"Now, if we go back in the car, we shall be all ready for her when she +arrives," said Hanaud. + +They passed the cab, indeed, a few yards up the steep hill which leads +from the station. The cab was moving at a walk. + +"She looks honest," said Hanaud, with a sigh of relief. "She is some +good bourgeoise anxious to earn four thousand francs." + +They reached the hotel in a few minutes. + +"We may need your car again the moment Marthe Gobin has gone," said +Hanaud. + +"It shall wait here," said Ricardo. + +"No," said Hanaud; "let it wait in the little street at the back of my +hotel. It will not be so noticeable there. You have petrol for a long +journey?" + +Ricardo gave the order quietly to his chauffeur, and followed Hanaud +into the hotel. Through a glass window they could see Wethermill +smoking a cigar over his coffee. + +"He looks as if he had not slept," said Ricardo. + +Hanaud nodded sympathetically, and beckoned Ricardo past the window. + +"But we are nearing the end. These two days have been for him days of +great trouble; one can see that very clearly. And he has done nothing +to embarrass us. Men in distress are apt to be a nuisance. I am +grateful to M. Wethermill. But we are nearing the end. Who knows? +Within an hour or two we may have news for him." + +He spoke with great feeling, and the two men ascended the stairs to +Ricardo's rooms. For the second time that day Hanaud's professional +calm deserted him. The window overlooked the main entrance to the +hotel. Hanaud arranged the room, and, even while he arranged it, ran +every other second and leaned from the window to watch for the coming +of the cab. + +"Put the bank-notes upon the table," he said hurriedly. "They will +persuade her to tell us all that she has to tell. Yes, that will do. +She is not in sight yet? No." + +"She could not be. It is a long way from the station," said Ricardo, +"and the whole distance is uphill." + +"Yes, that is true," Hanaud replied. "We will not embarrass her by +sitting round the table like a tribunal. You will sit in that +arm-chair." + +Ricardo took his seat, crossed his knees, and joined the tips of his +fingers. + +"So! not too judicial!" said Hanaud; "I will sit here at the table. +Whatever you do, do not frighten her." Hanaud sat down in the chair +which he had placed for himself. "Marthe Gobin shall sit opposite, with +the light upon her face. So!" And, springing up, he arranged a chair +for her. "Whatever you do, do not frighten her," he repeated. "I am +nervous. So much depends upon this interview." And in a second he was +back at the window. + +Ricardo did not move. He arranged in his mind the interrogatory which +was to take place. He was to conduct it. He was the master of the +situation. All the limelight was to be his. Startling facts would come +to light elicited by his deft questions. Hanaud need not fear. He would +not frighten her. He would be gentle, he would be cunning. Softly and +delicately he would turn this good woman inside out, like a glove. +Every artistic fibre in his body vibrated to the dramatic situation. + +Suddenly Hanaud leaned out of the window. + +"It comes! it comes!" he said in a quick, feverish whisper. "I can see +the cab between the shrubs of the drive." + +"Let it come!" said Mr. Ricardo superbly. + +Even as he sat he could hear the grating of wheels upon the drive. He +saw Hanaud lean farther from the window and stamp impatiently upon the +floor. + +"There it is at the door," he said; and for a few seconds he spoke no +more. He stood looking downwards, craning his head, with his back +towards Ricardo. + +Then, with a wild and startled cry, he staggered back into the room. +His face was white as wax, his eyes full of horror, his mouth open. + +"What is the matter?" exclaimed Ricardo, springing to his feet. + +"They are lifting her out! She doesn't move! They are lifting her out!" + +For a moment he stared into Ricardo's face--paralysed by fear. Then he +sprang down the stairs. Ricardo followed him. + +There was confusion in the corridor. Men were running, voices were +crying questions. As they passed the window they saw Wethermill start +up, aroused from his lethargy. They knew the truth before they reached +the entrance of the hotel. A cab had driven up to the door from the +station; in the cab was an unknown woman stabbed to the heart. + +"She should have come by the omnibus," Hanaud repeated and repeated +stupidly. For the moment he was off his balance. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE UNOPENED LETTER + + +The hall of the hotel had been cleared of people. At the entrance from +the corridor a porter barred the way. + +"No one can pass," said he. + +"I think that I can," said Hanaud, and he produced his card. "From the +Surete at Paris." + +He was allowed to enter, with Ricardo at his heels. On the ground lay +Marthe Gobin; the manager of the hotel stood at her side; a doctor was +on his knees. Hanaud gave his card to the manager. + +"You have sent word to the police?" + +"Yes," said the manager. + +"And the wound?" asked Hanaud, kneeling on the ground beside the +doctor. It was a very small wound, round and neat and clean, and there +was very little blood. "It was made by a bullet," said Hanaud--"some +tiny bullet from an air-pistol." + +"No," answered the doctor. + +"No knife made it," Hanaud asserted. + +"That is true," said the doctor. "Look!" and he took up from the floor +by his knee the weapon which had caused Marthe Gobin's death. It was +nothing but an ordinary skewer with a ring at one end and a sharp point +at the other, and a piece of common white firewood for a handle. The +wood had been split, the ring inserted and spliced in position with +strong twine. It was a rough enough weapon, but an effective one. The +proof of its effectiveness lay stretched upon the floor beside them. + +Hanaud gave it to the manager of the hotel. + +"You must be very careful of this, and give it as it is to the police." + +Then he bent once more over Marthe Gobin. + +"Did she suffer?" he asked in a low voice. + +"No; death must have been instantaneous," said the doctor. + +"I am glad of that," said Hanaud, as he rose again to his feet. + +In the doorway the driver of the cab was standing. + +"What has he to say?" Hanaud asked. + +The man stepped forward instantly. He was an old, red-faced, stout man, +with a shiny white tall hat, like a thousand drivers of cabs. + +"What have I to say, monsieur?" he grumbled in a husky voice. "I take +up the poor woman at the station and I drive her where she bids me, and +I find her dead, and my day is lost. Who will pay my fare, monsieur?" + +"I will," said Hanaud. "There it is," and he handed the man a +five-franc piece. "Now, answer me! Do you tell me that this woman was +murdered in your cab and that you knew nothing about it?" + +"But what should I know? I take her up at the station, and all the way +up the hill her head is every moment out of the window, crying, +'Faster, faster!' Oh, the good woman was in a hurry! But for me I take +no notice. The more she shouts, the less I hear; I bury my head between +my shoulders, and I look ahead of me and I take no notice. One cannot +expect cab-horses to run up these hills; it is not reasonable." + +"So you went at a walk," said Hanaud. He beckoned to Ricardo, and +said to the manager: "M. Besnard will, no doubt, be here in a few +minutes, and he will send for the Juge d'Instruction. There is +nothing that we can do." + +He went back to Ricardo's sitting-room and flung himself into a chair. +He had been calm enough downstairs in the presence of the doctor and +the body of the victim. Now, with only Ricardo for a witness, he gave +way to distress. + +"It is terrible," he said. "The poor woman! It was I who brought her to +Aix. It was through my carelessness. But who would have thought--?" He +snatched his hands from his face and stood up. "I should have thought," +he said solemnly. "Extraordinary daring--that was one of the qualities +of my criminal. I knew it, and I disregarded it. Now we have a second +crime." + +"The skewer may lead you to the criminal," said Mr. Ricardo. + +"The skewer!" cried Hanaud. "How will that help us? A knife, +yes--perhaps. But a skewer!" + +"At the shops--there will not be so many in Aix at which you can buy +skewers--they may remember to whom they sold one within the last day or +so." + +"How do we know it was bought in the last day or so?" cried Hanaud +scornfully. "We have not to do with a man who walks into a shop and +buys a single skewer to commit a murder with, and so hands himself over +to the police. How often must I say it!" + +The violence of his contempt nettled Ricardo. + +"If the murderer did not buy it, how did he obtain it?" he asked +obstinately. + +"Oh, my friend, could he not have stolen it? From this or from any +hotel in Aix? Would the loss of a skewer be noticed, do you think? How +many people in Aix to-day have had rognons a la brochette for their +luncheon! Besides, it is not merely the death of this poor woman which +troubles me. We have lost the evidence which she was going to bring to +us. She had something to tell us about Celie Harland which now we shall +never hear. We have to begin all over again, and I tell you we have not +the time to begin all over again. No, we have not the time. Time will +be lost, and we have no time to lose." He buried his face again in his +hands and groaned aloud. His grief was so violent and so sincere that +Ricardo, shocked as he was by the murder of Marthe Gobin, set himself +to console him. + +"But you could not have foreseen that at three o'clock in the afternoon +at Aix--" + +Hanaud brushed the excuse aside. + +"It is no extenuation. I OUGHT to have foreseen. Oh, but I will have no +pity now," he cried, and as he ended the words abruptly his face +changed. He lifted a trembling forefinger and pointed. There came a +sudden look of life into his dull and despairing eyes. + +He was pointing to a side-table on which were piled Mr. Ricardo's +letters. + +"You have not opened them this morning?" he asked. + +"No. You came while I was still in bed. I have not thought of them till +now." + +Hanaud crossed to the table, and, looking down at the letters, uttered +a cry. + +"There's one, the big envelope," he said, his voice shaking like his +hand. "It has a Swiss stamp." + +He swallowed to moisten his throat. Ricardo sprang across the room and +tore open the envelope. There was a long letter enclosed in a +handwriting unknown to him. He read aloud the first lines of the letter: + +"I write what I saw and post it to-night, so that no one may be before +me with the news. I will come over to-morrow for the money." + +A low exclamation from Hanaud interrupted the words. + +"The signature! Quick!" + +Ricardo turned to the end of the letter. + +"Marthe Gobin." + +"She speaks, then! After all she speaks!" Hanaud whispered in a voice +of awe. He ran to the door of the room, opened it suddenly, and, +shutting it again, locked it. "Quick! We cannot bring that poor woman +back to life; but we may still--" He did not finish his sentence. He +took the letter unceremoniously from Ricardo's hand and seated himself +at the table. Over his shoulder Mr. Ricardo, too, read Marthe Gobin's +letter. + +It was just the sort of letter, which in Ricardo's view, Marthe Gobin +would have written--a long, straggling letter which never kept to the +point, which exasperated them one moment by its folly and fired them to +excitement the next. + +It was dated from a small suburb of Geneva, on the western side of the +lake, and it ran as follows: + +"The suburb is but a street close to the lake-side, and a tram runs +into the city. It is quite respectable, you understand, monsieur, with +a hotel at the end of it, and really some very good houses. But I do +not wish to deceive you about the social position of myself or my +husband. Our house is on the wrong side of the street--definitely--yes. +It is a small house, and we do not see the water from any of the +windows because of the better houses opposite. M. Gobin, my husband, +who was a clerk in one of the great banks in Geneva, broke down in +health in the spring, and for the last three months has been compelled +to keep indoors. Of course, money has not been plentiful, and I could +not afford a nurse. Consequently I myself have been compelled to nurse +him. Monsieur, if you were a woman, you would know what men are when +they are ill--how fretful, how difficult. There is not much distraction +for the woman who nurses them. So, as I am in the house most of the +day, I find what amusement I can in watching the doings of my +neighbours. You will not blame me. + +"A month ago the house almost directly opposite to us was taken +furnished for the summer by a Mme. Rossignol. She is a widow, but +during the last fortnight a young gentleman has come several times in +the afternoon to see her, and it is said in the street that he is going +to marry her. But I cannot believe it myself. Monsieur is a young man +of perhaps thirty, with smooth, black hair. He wears a moustache, a +little black moustache, and is altogether captivating. Mme. Rossignol +is five or six years older, I should think--a tall woman, with red hair +and a bold sort of coarse beauty. I was not attracted by her. She +seemed not quite of the same world as that charming monsieur who was +said to be going to marry her. No; I was not attracted by Adele +Rossignol." + +And when he had come to that point Hanaud looked up with a start. + +"So the name was Adele," he whispered. + +"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier spoke the truth." + +Hanaud nodded with a queer smile upon his lips. + +"Yes, there she spoke the truth. I thought she did." + +"But she said Adele's hair was black," interposed Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes, there she didn't," said Hanaud drily, and his eyes dropped again +to the paper. + +"I knew her name was Adele, for often I have heard her servant calling +her so, and without any 'Madame' in front of the name. That is strange, +is it not, to hear an elderly servant-woman calling after her mistress, +'Adele,' just simple 'Adele'? It was that which made me think monsieur +and madame were not of the same world. But I do not believe that they +are going to be married. I have an instinct about it. Of course, one +never knows with what extraordinary women the nicest men will fall in +love. So that after all these two may get married. But if they do, I do +not think they will be happy. + +"Besides the old woman there was another servant, a man, Hippolyte, who +served in the house and drove the carriage when it was wanted--a +respectable man. He always touched his hat when Mme. Rossignol came out +of the house. He slept in the house at night, although the stable was +at the end of the street. I thought he was probably the son of Jeanne, +the servant-woman. He was young, and his hair was plastered down upon +his forehead, and he was altogether satisfied with himself and a great +favorite amongst the servants in the street. The carriage and the horse +were hired from Geneva. That is the household of Mme. Rossignol." + +So far, Mr. Ricardo read in silence. Then he broke out again. + +"But we have them! The red-haired woman called Adele; the man with the +little black moustache. It was he who drove the motor-car!" + +Hanaud held up his hand to check the flow of words, and both read on +again: + +"At three o'clock on Tuesday afternoon madame was driven away in the +carriage, and I did not see it return all that evening. Of course, it +may have returned to the stables by another road. But it was not +unusual for the carriage to take her into Geneva and wait a long time. +I went to bed at eleven, but in the night M. Gobin was restless, and I +rose to get him some medicine. We slept in the front of the house, +monsieur, and while I was searching for the matches upon the table in +the middle of the room I heard the sound of carriage wheels in the +silent street. I went to the window, and, raising a corner of the +curtains, looked out. M. Gobin called to me fretfully from the bed to +know why I did not light the candle and get him what he wanted. I have +already told you how fretful sick men can be, always complaining if +just for a minute one distracts oneself by looking out of the window. +But there! One can do nothing to please them. Yet how right I was to +raise the blind and look out of the window! For if I had obeyed my +husband I might have lost four thousand francs. And four thousand +francs are not to be sneezed at by a poor woman whose husband lies in +bed. + +"I saw the carriage stop at Mme. Rossignol's house. Almost at once the +house door was opened by the old servant, although the hall of the +house and all the windows in the front were dark. That was the first +thing that surprised me. For when madame came home late and the house +was dark, she used to let herself in with a latchkey. Now, in the dark +house, in the early morning, a servant was watching for them. It was +strange. + +"As soon as the door of the house was opened the door of the carriage +opened too, and a young lady stepped quickly out on to the pavement. +The train of her dress caught in the door, and she turned round, +stooped, freed it with her hand, and held it up off the ground. The +night was clear, and there was a lamp in the street close by the door +of Mme. Rossignol's house. As she turned I saw her face under the big +green hat. It was very pretty and young, and the hair was fair. She +wore a white coat, but it was open in front and showed her evening +frock of pale green. When she lifted her skirt I saw the buckles +sparkling on her satin shoes. It was the young lady for whom you are +advertising, I am sure. She remained standing just for a moment without +moving, while Mme. Rossignol got out. I was surprised to see a young +lady of such distinction in Mme. Rossignol's company. Then, still +holding her skirt up, she ran very lightly and quickly across the +pavement into the dark house. I thought, monsieur, that she was very +anxious not to be seen. So when I saw your advertisement I was certain +that this was the young lady for whom you are searching. + +"I waited for a few moments and saw the carriage drive off towards the +stable at the end of the street. But no light went up in any of the +rooms in front of the house. And M. Gobin was so fretful that I dropped +the corner of the blind, lit the candle, and gave him his cooling +drink. His watch was on the table at the bedside, and I saw that it was +five minutes to three. I will send you a telegram to-morrow, as soon as +I am sure at what hour I can leave my husband. Accept, monsieur, I beg +you, my most distinguished salutations. + +"MARTHE GOBIN." + +Hanaud leant back with an extraordinary look of perplexity upon his +face. But to Ricardo the whole story was now clear. Here was an +independent witness, without the jealousy or rancours of Helene +Vauquier. Nothing could be more damning than her statement; it +corroborated those footmarks upon the soil in front of the glass door +of the salon. There was nothing to be done except to set about +arresting Mlle. Celie at once. + +"The facts work with your theory, M. Hanaud. The young man with the +black moustache did not return to the house at Geneva. For somewhere +upon the road close to Geneva he met the carriage. He was driving back +the car to Aix--" And then another thought struck him: "But no!" he +cried. "We are altogether wrong. See! They did not reach home until +five minutes to three." + +Five minutes to three! But this demolished the whole of Hanaud's theory +about the motor-car. The murderers had left the villa between eleven +and twelve, probably before half-past eleven. The car was a machine of +sixty horse-power, and the roads were certain to be clear. Yet the +travellers only reached their home at three. Moreover, the car was back +in Aix at four. It was evident they did not travel by the car. + +"Geneva time is an hour later than French time," said Hanaud shortly. +It seemed as if the corroboration of this letter disappointed him. "A +quarter to three in Mme. Gobin's house would be a quarter to two by our +watches here." + +Hanaud folded up the letter, and rose to his feet. + +"We will go now, and we will take this letter with us." Hanaud looked +about the room, and picked up a glove lying upon a table. "I left this +behind me," he said, putting it into his pocket. "By the way, where is +the telegram from Marthe Gobin?" + +"You put it in your letter-case." + +"Oh, did I?" + +Hanaud took out his letter-case and found the telegram within it. His +face lightened. + +"Good!" he said emphatically. "For, since we have this telegram, there +must have been another message sent from Adele Rossignol to Aix saying +that Marthe Gobin, that busybody, that inquisitive neighbour, who had +no doubt seen M. Ricardo's advertisement, was on her way hither. Oh it +will not be put as crudely as that, but that is what the message will +mean. We shall have him." And suddenly his face grew very stern. "I +MUST catch him, for Marthe Gobin's death I cannot forgive. A poor woman +meaning no harm, and murdered like a sheep under our noses. No, that I +cannot forgive." + +Ricardo wondered whether it was the actual murder of Marthe Gobin or +the fact that he had been beaten and outwitted which Hanaud could not +forgive. But discretion kept him silent. + +"Let us go," said Hanaud. "By the lift, if you please; it will save +time." + +They descended into the hall close by the main door. The body of Marthe +Gobin had been removed to the mortuary of the town. The life of the +hotel had resumed its course. + +"M. Besnard has gone, I suppose?" Hanaud asked of the porter; and, +receiving an assent, he walked quickly out of the front door. + +"But there is a shorter way," said Ricardo, running after him: "across +the garden at the back and down the steps." + +"It will make no difference now," said Hanaud. + +They hurried along the drive and down the road which circled round the +hotel and dipped to the town. + +Behind Hanaud's hotel Ricardo's car was waiting. + +"We must go first to Besnard's office. The poor man will be at his +wits' end to know who was Mme. Gobin and what brought her to Aix. +Besides, I wish to send a message over the telephone." + +Hanaud descended and spent a quarter of an hour with the Commissaire. +As he came out he looked at his watch. + +"We shall be in time, I think," he said. He climbed into the car. "The +murder of Marthe Gobin on her way from the station will put our friends +at their ease. It will be published, no doubt, in the evening papers, +and those good people over there in Geneva will read it with amusement. +They do not know that Marthe Gobin wrote a letter yesterday night. +Come, let us go!" + +"Where to?" asked Ricardo. + +"Where to?" exclaimed Hanaud. "Why, of course, to Geneva." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ALUMINIUM FLASK + + +"I have telephoned to Lemerre, the Chef de la Surete at Geneva," said +Hanaud, as the car sped out of Aix along the road to Annecy. "He will +have the house watched. We shall be in time. They will do nothing until +dark." + +But though he spoke confidently there was a note of anxiety in his +voice, and he sat forward in the car, as though he were already +straining his eyes to see Geneva. + +Ricardo was a trifle disappointed. They were on the great journey to +Geneva. They were going to arrest Mlle. Celie and her accomplices. And +Hanaud had not come disguised. Hanaud, in Ricardo's eyes, was hardly +living up to the dramatic expedition on which they had set out. It +seemed to him that there was something incorrect in the great detective +coming out on the chase without a false beard. + +"But, my dear friend, why shouldn't I?" pleaded Hanaud. "We are going +to dine together at the Restaurant du Nord, over the lake, until it +grows dark. It is not pleasant to eat one's soup in a false beard. Have +you tried it? Besides, everybody stares so, seeing perfectly well that +it is false. Now, I do not want to-night that people should know me for +a detective; so I do not go disguised." + +"Humorist!" said Mr. Ricardo. + +"There! you have found me out!" cried Hanaud, in mock alarm. "Besides, +I told you this morning that that is precisely what I am." + +Beyond Annecy, they came to the bridge over the ravine. At the far end +of it, the car stopped. A question, a hurried glance into the body of +the car, and the officers of the Customs stood aside. + +"You see how perfunctory it is," said Hanaud and with a jerk the car +moved on. The jerk threw Hanaud against Mr. Ricardo. Something hard in +the detective's pocket knocked against his companion. + +"You have got them?" he whispered. + +"What?" + +"The handcuffs." + +Another disappointment awaited Ricardo. A detective without a false +beard was bad enough, but that was nothing to a detective without +handcuffs. The paraphernalia of justice were sadly lacking. However, +Hanaud consoled Mr. Ricardo by showing him the hard thing; it was +almost as thrilling as the handcuffs, for it was a loaded revolver. + +"There will be danger, then?" said Ricardo, with a tremor of +excitement. "I should have brought mine." + +"There would have been danger, my friend," Hanaud objected gravely, "if +you had brought yours." + +They reached Geneva as the dusk was falling, and drove straight to the +restaurant by the side of the lake and mounted to the balcony on the +first floor. A small, stout man sat at a table alone in a corner of the +balcony. He rose and held out his hands. + +"My friend, M. Lemerre, the Chef de la Surete of Geneva," said Hanaud, +presenting the little man to his companion. + +There were as yet only two couples dining in the restaurant, and Hanaud +spoke so that neither could overhear him. He sat down at the table. + +"What news?" he asked. + +"None," said Lemerre. "No one has come out of the house, no one has +gone in." + +"And if anything happens while we dine?" + +"We shall know," said Lemerre. "Look, there is a man loitering under +the trees there. He will strike a match to light his pipe." + +The hurried conversation was ended. + +"Good," said Hanaud. "We will dine, then, and be gay." + +He called to the waiter and ordered dinner. It was after seven when +they sat down to dinner, and they dined while the dusk deepened. In the +street below the lights flashed out, throwing a sheen on the foliage of +the trees at the water's side. Upon the dark lake the reflections of +lamps rippled and shook. A boat in which musicians sang to music, +passed by with a cool splash of oars. The green and red lights of the +launches glided backwards and forwards. Hanaud alone of the party on +the balcony tried to keep the conversation upon a light and general +level. But it was plain that even he was overdoing his gaiety. There +were moments when a sudden contraction of the muscles would clench his +hands and give a spasmodic jerk to his shoulders. He was waiting +uneasily, uncomfortably, until darkness should come. + +"Eat," he cried--"eat, my friends," playing with his own barely tasted +food. + +And then, at a sentence from Lemerre, his knife and fork clattered on +his plate, and he sat with a face suddenly grown white. + +For Lemerre said, as though it was no more than a matter of ordinary +comment: + +"So Mme. Dauvray's jewels were, after all, never stolen?" + +Hanaud started. + +"You know that? How did you know it?" + +"It was in this evening's paper. I bought one on the way here. They +were found under the floor of the bedroom." + +And even as he spoke a newsboy's voice rang out in the street below +them. Lemerre was alarmed by the look upon his friend's face. + +"Does it matter, Hanaud?" he asked, with some solicitude. + +"It matters--" and Hanaud rose up abruptly. + +The boy's voice sounded louder in the street below. The words became +distinct to all upon that balcony. + +"The Aix murder! Discovery of the jewels!" + +"We must go," Hanaud whispered hoarsely. "Here are life and death in +the balance, as I believe, and there"--he pointed down to the little +group gathering about the newsboy under the trees--"there is the +command which way to tip the scales." + +"It was not I who sent it," said Ricardo eagerly. + +He had no precise idea what Hanaud meant by his words; but he realised +that the sooner he exculpated himself from the charge the better. + +"Of course it was not you. I know that very well," said Hanaud. He +called for the bill. "When is that paper published?" + +"At seven," said Lemerre. + +"They have been crying it in the streets of Geneva, then, for more than +half an hour." + +He sat drumming impatiently upon the table until the bill should be +brought. + +"By Heaven, that's clever!" he muttered savagely. "There's a man who +gets ahead of me at every turn. See, Lemerre, I take every care, every +precaution, that no message shall be sent. I let it be known, I take +careful pains to let it be known, that no message can be sent without +detection following, and here's the message sent by the one channel I +never thought to guard against and stop. Look!" + +The murder at the Villa Rose and the mystery which hid its perpetration +had aroused interest. This new development had quickened it. From the +balcony Hanaud could see the groups thickening about the boy and the +white sheets of the newspapers in the hands of passers-by. + +"Every one in Geneva or near Geneva will know of this message by now." + +"Who could have told?" asked Ricardo blankly, and Hanaud laughed in his +face, but laughed without any merriment. + +"At last!" he cried, as the waiter brought the bill, and just as he had +paid it the light of a match flared up under the trees. + +"The signal!" said Lemerre. + +"Not too quickly," whispered Hanaud. + +With as much unconcern as each could counterfeit, the three men +descended the stairs and crossed the road. Under the trees a fourth man +joined them--he who had lighted his pipe. + +"The coachman, Hippolyte," he whispered, "bought an evening paper at +the front door of the house from a boy who came down the street +shouting the news. The coachman ran back into the house." + +"When was this?" asked Lemerre. + +The man pointed to a lad who leaned against the balustrade above the +lake, hot and panting for breath. + +"He came on his bicycle. He has just arrived." + +"Follow me," said Lemerre. + +Six yards from where they stood a couple of steps led down from the +embankment on to a wooden landing-stage, where boats were moored. +Lemerre, followed by the others, walked briskly down on to the +landing-stage. An electric launch was waiting. It had an awning and was +of the usual type which one hires at Geneva. There were two sergeants +in plain clothes on board, and a third man, whom Ricardo recognised. + +"That is the man who found out in whose shop the cord was bought," he +said to Hanaud. + +"Yes, it is Durette. He has been here since yesterday." + +Lemerre and the three who followed him stepped into it, and it backed +away from the stage and, turning, sped swiftly outwards from Geneva. +The gay lights of the shops and the restaurants were left behind, the +cool darkness enveloped them; a light breeze blew over the lake, a +trail of white and tumbled water lengthened out behind and overhead, in +a sky of deepest blue, the bright stars shone like gold. + +"If only we are in time!" said Hanaud, catching his breath. + +"Yes," answered Lemerre; and in both their voices there was a strange +note of gravity. + +Lemerre gave a signal after a while, and the boat turned to the shore +and reduced its speed. They had passed the big villas. On the bank the +gardens of houses--narrow, long gardens of a street of small +houses--reached down to the lake, and to almost each garden there was a +rickety landing-stage of wood projecting into the lake. Again Lemerre +gave a signal, and the boat's speed was so much reduced that not a +sound of its coming could be heard. It moved over the water like a +shadow, with not so much as a curl of white at its bows. + +Lemerre touched Hanaud on the shoulder and pointed to a house in a row +of houses. All the windows except two upon the second floor and one +upon the ground floor were in absolute darkness, and over those upper +two the wooden shutters were closed. But in the shutters there were +diamond-shaped holes, and from these holes two yellow beams of light, +like glowing eyes upon the watch, streamed out and melted in the air. + +"You are sure that the front of the house is guarded?" asked Hanaud +anxiously. + +"Yes," replied Lemerre. + +Ricardo shivered with excitement. The launch slid noiselessly into the +bank and lay hidden under its shadow. Hanaud turned to his associates +with his finger to his lips. Something gleamed darkly in his hand. It +was the barrel of his revolver. Cautiously the men disembarked and +crept up the bank. First came Lemerre, then Hanaud; Ricardo followed +him, and the fourth man, who had struck the match under the trees, +brought up the rear. The other three officers remained in the boat. + +Stooping under the shadow of the side wall of the garden, the invaders +stole towards the house. When a bush rustled or a tree whispered in the +light wind, Ricardo's heart jumped to his throat. Once Lemerre stopped, +as though his ears heard a sound which warned him of danger. Then +cautiously he crept on again. The garden was a ragged place of unmown +lawn and straggling bushes. Behind each one Mr. Ricardo seemed to feel +an enemy. Never had he been in so strait a predicament. He, the +cultured host of Grosvenor Square, was creeping along under a wall with +Continental policemen; he was going to raid a sinister house by the +Lake of Geneva. It was thrilling. Fear and excitement gripped him in +turn and let him go, but always he was sustained by the pride of the +man doing an out-of-the-way thing. "If only my friends could see me +now!" The ancient vanity was loud in his bosom. Poor fellows, they were +upon yachts in the Solent or on grouse-moors in Scotland, or on +golf-links at North Berwick. He alone of them all was tracking +malefactors to their doom by Leman's Lake. + +From these agreeable reflections Ricardo was shaken. Lemerre stopped. +The raiders had reached the angle made by the side wall of the garden +and the house. A whisper was exchanged, and the party turned and moved +along the house wall towards the lighted window on the ground floor. As +Lemerre reached it he stooped. Then slowly his forehead and his eyes +rose above the sill and glanced this way and that into the room. Mr. +Ricardo could see his eyes gleaming as the light from the window caught +them. His face rose completely over the sill. He stared into the room +without care or apprehension, and then dropped again out of the reach +of the light. He turned to Hanaud. + +"The room is empty," he whispered. + +Hanaud turned to Ricardo. + +"Pass under the sill, or the light from the window will throw your +shadow upon the lawn." + +The party came to the back door of the house. Lemerre tried the handle +of the door, and to his surprise it yielded. They crept into the +passage. The last man closed the door noiselessly, locked it, and +removed the key. A panel of light shone upon the wall a few paces +ahead. The door of the lighted room was open. As Ricardo stepped +silently past it, he looked in. It was a parlour meanly furnished. +Hanaud touched him on the arm and pointed to the table. + +Ricardo had seen the objects at which Hanaud pointed often enough +without uneasiness; but now, in this silent house of crime, they had +the most sinister and appalling aspect. There was a tiny phial half +full of a dark-brown liquid, beside it a little leather case lay open, +and across the case, ready for use or waiting to be filled, was a +bright morphia needle. Ricardo felt the cold creep along his spine, and +shivered. + +"Come," whispered Hanaud. + +They reached the foot of a flight of stairs, and cautiously mounted it. +They came out in a passage which ran along the side of the house from +the back to the front. It was unlighted, but they were now on the level +of the street, and a fan-shaped glass window over the front door +admitted a pale light. There was a street lamp near to the door, +Ricardo remembered. For by the light of it Marthe Gobin had seen Celia +Harland run so nimbly into this house. + +For a moment the men in the passage held their breath. Some one strode +heavily by on the pavement outside--to Mr. Ricardo's ear a most +companionable sound. Then a clock upon a church struck the half-hour +musically, distantly. It was half-past eight. And a second afterwards a +tiny bright light shone. Hanaud was directing the light of a pocket +electric torch to the next flight of stairs. + +Here the steps were carpeted, and once more the men crept up. One after +another they came out upon the next landing. It ran, like those below +it, along the side of the house from the back to the front, and the +doors were all upon their left hand. From beneath the door nearest to +them a yellow line of light streamed out. + +They stood in the darkness listening. But not a sound came from behind +the door. Was this room empty, too? In each one's mind was the fear +that the birds had flown. Lemerre carefully took the handle of the door +and turned it. Very slowly and cautiously he opened the door. A strong +light beat out through the widening gap upon his face. And then, though +his feet did not move, his shoulders and his face drew back. The action +was significant enough. This room, at all events, was not empty. But of +what Lemerre saw in the room his face gave no hint. He opened the door +wider, and now Hanaud saw. Ricardo, trembling with excitement, watched +him. But again there was no expression of surprise, consternation, or +delight. He stood stolidly and watched. Then he turned to Ricardo, +placed a finger on his lips, and made room. Ricardo crept on tiptoe to +his side. And now he too could look in. He saw a brightly lit bedroom +with a made bed. On his left were the shuttered windows overlooking the +lake. On his right in the partition wall a door stood open. Through the +door he could see a dark, windowless closet, with a small bed from +which the bedclothes hung and trailed upon the floor, as though some +one had been but now roughly dragged from it. On a table, close by the +door, lay a big green hat with a brown ostrich feather, and a white +cloak. But the amazing spectacle which kept him riveted was just in +front of him. An old hag of a woman was sitting in a chair with her +back towards them. She was mending with a big needle the holes in an +old sack, and while she bent over her work she crooned to herself some +French song. Every now and then she raised her eyes, for in front of +her, under her charge, Mlle. Celie, the girl of whom Hanaud was in +search, lay helpless upon a sofa. The train of her delicate green frock +swept the floor. She was dressed as Helene Vauquier had described. Her +gloved hands were tightly bound behind her back, her feet were crossed +so that she could not have stood, and her ankles were cruelly strapped +together. Over her face and eyes a piece of coarse sacking was +stretched like a mask, and the ends were roughly sewn together at the +back of her head. She lay so still that, but for the labouring of her +bosom and a tremor which now and again shook her limbs, the watchers +would have thought her dead. She made no struggle of resistance; she +lay quiet and still. Once she writhed, but it was with the uneasiness +of one in pain, and the moment she stirred the old woman's hand went +out to a bright aluminium flask which stood on a little table at her +side. + +"Keep quiet, little one!" she ordered in a careless, chiding voice, and +she rapped with the flask peremptorily upon the table. Immediately, as +though the tapping had some strange message of terror for the girl's +ear, she stiffened her whole body and lay rigid. + +"I am not ready for you yet, little fool," said the old woman, and she +bent again to her work. + +Ricardo's brain whirled. Here was the girl whom they had come to +arrest, who had sprung from the salon with so much activity of youth +across the stretch of grass, who had run so quickly and lightly across +the pavement into this very house, so that she should not be seen. And +now she was lying in her fine and delicate attire a captive, at the +mercy of the very people who were her accomplices. + +Suddenly a scream rang out in the garden--a shrill, loud scream, close +beneath the windows. The old woman sprang to her feet. The girl on the +sofa raised her head. The old woman took a step towards the window, and +then she swiftly turned towards the door. She saw the men upon the +threshold. She uttered a bellow of rage. There is no other word to +describe the sound. It was not a human cry; it was the bellow of an +angry animal. She reached out her hand towards the flask, but before +she could grasp it Hanaud seized her. She burst into a torrent of foul +oaths. Hanaud flung her across to Lemerre's officer, who dragged her +from the room. + +"Quick!" said Hanaud, pointing to the girl, who was now struggling +helplessly upon the sofa. "Mlle. Celie!" + +Ricardo cut the stitches of the sacking. Hanaud unstrapped her hands +and feet. They helped her to sit up. She shook her hands in the air as +though they tortured her, and then, in a piteous, whimpering voice, +like a child's, she babbled incoherently and whispered prayers. +Suddenly the prayers ceased. She sat stiff, with eyes fixed and +staring. She was watching Lemerre, and she was watching him fascinated +with terror. He was holding in his hand the large, bright aluminium +flask. He poured a little of the contents very carefully on to a piece +of the sack; and then with an exclamation of anger he turned towards +Hanaud. But Hanaud was supporting Celia; and so, as Lemerre turned +abruptly towards him with the flask in his hand, he turned abruptly +towards Celia too. She wrenched herself from Hanaud's arms, she shrank +violently away. Her white face flushed scarlet and grew white again. +She screamed loudly, terribly; and after the scream she uttered a +strange, weak sigh, and so fell sideways in a swoon. Hanaud caught her +as she fell. A light broke over his face. + +"Now I understand!" he cried. "Good God! That's horrible." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN THE HOUSE AT GENEVA + + +It was well, Mr. Ricardo thought, that some one understood. For +himself, he frankly admitted that he did not. Indeed, in his view the +first principles of reasoning seemed to be set at naught. It was +obvious from the solicitude with which Celia Harland was surrounded +that every one except himself was convinced of her innocence. Yet it +was equally obvious that any one who bore in mind the eight points he +had tabulated against her must be convinced of her guilt. Yet again, if +she were guilty, how did it happen that she had been so mishandled by +her accomplices? He was not allowed, however, to reflect upon these +remarkable problems. He had too busy a time of it. At one moment he was +running to fetch water wherewith to bathe Celia's forehead. At another, +when he had returned with the water, he was distracted by the +appearance of Durette, the inspector from Aix, in the doorway. + +"We have them both," he said--"Hippolyte and the woman. They were +hiding in the garden." + +"So I thought," said Hanaud, "when I saw the door open downstairs, and +the morphia-needle on the table." + +Lemerre turned to one of the officers. + +"Let them be taken with old Jeanne in cabs to the depot." + +And when the man had gone upon his errand Lemerre spoke to Hanaud. + +"You will stay here to-night to arrange for their transfer to Aix?" + +"I will leave Durette behind," said Hanaud. "I am needed at Aix. We +will make a formal application for the prisoners." He was kneeling by +Celia's side and awkwardly dabbing her forehead with a wet +handkerchief. He raised a warning hand. Celia Harland moved and opened +her eyes. She sat up on the sofa, shivering, and looked with dazed and +wondering eyes from one to another of the strangers who surrounded her. +She searched in vain for a familiar face. + +"You are amongst good friends, Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud with great +gentleness. + +"Oh, I wonder! I wonder!" she cried piteously. + +"Be very sure of it," he said heartily, and she clung to the sleeve of +his coat with desperate hands. + +"I suppose you ARE friends," she said; "else why--?" and she moved her +numbed limbs to make certain that she was free. She looked about the +room. Her eyes fell upon the sack and widened with terror. + +"They came to me a little while ago in that cupboard there--Adele and +the old woman Jeanne. They made me get up. They told me they were going +to take me away. They brought my clothes and dressed me in everything I +wore when I came, so that no single trace of me might be left behind. +Then they tied me." She tore off her gloves and showed them her +lacerated wrists. "I think they meant to kill me--horribly." And she +caught her breath and whimpered like a child. Her spirit was broken. + +"My poor girl, all that is over," said Hanaud. And he stood up. + +But at the first movement he made she cried incisively, "No," and +tightened the clutch of her fingers upon his sleeve. + +"But, mademoiselle, you are safe," he said, with a smile. She stared at +him stupidly. It seemed the words had no meaning for her. She would not +let him go. It was only the feel of his coat within the clutch of her +fingers which gave her any comfort. + +"I want to be sure that I am safe," she said, with a wan little smile. + +"Tell me, mademoiselle, what have you had to eat and drink during the +last two days?" + +"Is it two days?" she asked. "I was in the dark there. I did not know. +A little bread, a little water." + +"That's what is wrong," said Hanaud. "Come, let us go from here!" + +"Yes, yes!" Celia cried eagerly. She rose to her feet, and tottered. +Hanaud put his arm about her. "You are very kind," she said in a low +voice, and again doubt looked out from her face and disappeared. "I am +sure that I can trust you." + +Ricardo fetched her cloak and slipped it on her shoulders. Then he +brought her hat, and she pinned it on. She turned to Hanaud; +unconsciously familiar words rose to her lips. + +"Is it straight?" she asked. And Hanaud laughed outright, and in a +moment Celia smiled herself. + +Supported by Hanaud she stumbled down the stairs to the garden. As they +passed the open door of the lighted parlour at the back of the house +Hanaud turned back to Lemerre and pointed silently to the +morphia-needle and the phial. Lemerre nodded his head, and going into +the room took them away. They went out again into the garden. Celia +Harland threw back her head to the stars and drew in a deep breath of +the cool night air. + +"I did not think," she said in a low voice, "to see the stars again." + +They walked slowly down the length of the garden, and Hanaud lifted her +into the launch. She turned and caught his coat. + +"You must come too," she said stubbornly. + +Hanaud sprang in beside her. + +"For to-night," he said gaily, "I am your papa!" + +Ricardo and the others followed, and the launch moved out over the lake +under the stars. The bow was turned towards Geneva, the water tumbled +behind them like white fire, the night breeze blew fresh upon their +faces. They disembarked at the landing-stage, and then Lemerre bowed to +Celia and took his leave. Hanaud led Celia up on to the balcony of the +restaurant and ordered supper. There were people still dining at the +tables. + +One party indeed sitting late over their coffee Ricardo recognised with +a kind of shock. They had taken their places, the very places in which +they now sat, before he and Hanaud and Lemerre had left the restaurant +upon their expedition of rescue. Into that short interval of time so +much that was eventful had been crowded. + +Hanaud leaned across the table to Celia and said in a low voice: + +"Mademoiselle, if I may suggest it, it would be as well if you put on +your gloves; otherwise they may notice your wrists." + +Celia followed his advice. She ate some food and drank a glass of +champagne. A little colour returned to her cheeks. + +"You are very kind to me, you and monsieur your friend," she said, with +a smile towards Ricardo. "But for you--" and her voice shook. + +"Hush!" said Hanaud--"all that is over; we will not speak of it." + +Celia looked out across the road on to the trees, of which the dark +foliage was brightened and made pale by the lights of the restaurant. +Out on the water some one was singing. + +"It seems impossible to me," she said in a low voice, "that I am here, +in the open air, and free." + +Hanaud looked at his watch. + +"Mlle. Celie, it is past ten o'clock. M. Ricardo's car is waiting there +under the trees. I want you to drive back to Aix. I have taken rooms +for you at an hotel, and there will be a nurse from the hospital to +look after you." + +"Thank you, monsieur," she said; "you have thought of everything. But I +shall not need a nurse." + +"But you will have a nurse," said Hanaud firmly. "You feel stronger +now--yes, but when you lay your head upon your pillow, mademoiselle, it +will be a comfort to you to know that you have her within call. And in +a day or two," he added gently, "you will perhaps be able to tell us +what happened on Tuesday night at the Villa Rose?" + +Celia covered her face with her hands for a few moments. Then she drew +them away and said simply: + +"Yes, monsieur, I will tell you." + +Hanaud bowed to her with a genuine deference. + +"Thank you, mademoiselle," he said, and in his voice there was a strong +ring of sympathy. + +They went downstairs and entered Ricardo's motor car. + +"I want to send a telephone message," said Hanaud, "if you will wait +here." + +"No!" cried Celia decisively, and she again laid hold of his coat, with +a pretty imperiousness, as though he belonged to her. + +"But I must," said Hanaud with a laugh. + +"Then I will come too," said Celia, and she opened the door and set a +foot upon the step. + +"You will not, mademoiselle," said Hanaud, with a laugh. "Will you take +your foot back into that car? That is better. Now you will sit with +your friend, M. Ricardo, whom, by the way, I have not yet introduced to +you. He is a very good friend of yours, mademoiselle, and will in the +future be a still better one." + +Ricardo felt his conscience rather heavy within him, for he had come +out to Geneva with the fixed intention of arresting her as a most +dangerous criminal. Even now he could not understand how she could be +innocent of a share in Mme. Dauvray's murder. But Hanaud evidently +thought she was. And since Hanaud thought so, why, it was better to say +nothing if one was sensitive to gibes. So Ricardo sat and talked with +her while Hanaud ran back into the restaurant. It mattered very little, +however, what he said, for Celia's eyes were fixed upon the doorway +through which Hanaud had disappeared. And when he came back she was +quick to turn the handle of the door. + +"Now, mademoiselle, we will wrap you up in M. Ricardo's spare +motor-coat and cover your knees with a rug and put you between us, and +then you can go to sleep." + +The car sped through the streets of Geneva. Celia Harland, with a +little sigh of relief, nestled down between the two men. + +"If I knew you better," she said to Hanaud, "I should tell you--what, +of course, I do not tell you now--that I feel as if I had a big +Newfoundland dog with me." + +"Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud, and his voice told her that he was moved, +"that is a very pretty thing which you have said to me." + +The lights of the city fell away behind them. Now only a glow in the +sky spoke of Geneva; now even that was gone and with a smooth +continuous purr the car raced through the cool darkness. The great head +lamps threw a bright circle of light before them and the road slipped +away beneath the wheels like a running tide. Celia fell asleep. Even +when the car stopped at the Pont de La Caille she did not waken. The +door was opened, a search for contraband was made, the book was signed, +still she did not wake. The car sped on. + +"You see, coming into France is a different affair," said Hanaud. + +"Yes," replied Ricardo. + +"Still, I will own it, you caught me napping yesterday. + +"I did?" exclaimed Ricardo joyfully. + +"You did," returned Hanaud. "I had never heard of the Pont de La +Caille. But you will not mention it? You will not ruin me?" + +"I will not," answered M. Ricardo, superb in his magnanimity. "You are +a good detective." + +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" cried Hanaud in a voice which shook--surely +with emotion. He wrung Ricardo's hand. He wiped an imaginary tear from +his eye. + +And still Celia slept. M. Ricardo looked at her. He said to Hanaud in a +whisper: + +"Yet I do not understand. The car, though no serious search was made, +must still have stopped at the Pont de La Caille on the Swiss side. Why +did she not cry for help then? One cry and she was safe. A movement +even was enough. Do you understand?" + +Hanaud nodded his head. + +"I think so," he answered, with a very gentle look at Celia. "Yes, I +think so." + +When Celia was aroused she found that the car had stopped before the +door of an hotel, and that a woman in the dress of a nurse was standing +in the doorway. + +"You can trust Marie," said Hanaud. And Celia turned as she stood upon +the ground and gave her hands to the two men. + +"Thank you! Thank you both!" she said in a trembling voice. She looked +at Hanaud and nodded her head. "You understand why I thank you so very +much?" + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "But, mademoiselle"--and he bent over the car and +spoke to her quietly, holding her hand--"there is ALWAYS a big +Newfoundland dog in the worst of troubles--if only you will look for +him. I tell you so--I, who belong to the Surete in Paris. Do not lose +heart!" And in his mind he added: "God forgive me for the lie." He +shook her hand and let it go; and gathering up her skirt she went into +the hall of the hotel. + +Hanaud watched her as she went. She was to him a lonely and pathetic +creature, in spite of the nurse who bore her company. + +"You must be a good friend to that young girl, M. Ricardo," he said. +"Let us drive to your hotel." + +"Yes," said Ricardo. And as they went the curiosity which all the way +from Geneva had been smouldering within him burst into flame. + +"Will you explain to me one thing?" he asked. "When the scream came +from the garden you were not surprised. Indeed, you said that when you +saw the open door and the morphia-needle on the table of the little +room downstairs you thought Adele and the man Hippolyte were hiding in +the garden." + +"Yes, I did think so." + +"Why? And why did the publication that the jewels had been discovered +so alarm you?" + +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Did not you understand that? Yet it is surely clear +and obvious, if you once grant that the girl was innocent, was a +witness of the crime, and was now in the hands of the criminals. Grant +me those premisses, M. Ricardo, for a moment, and you will see that we +had just one chance of finding the girl alive in Geneva. From the first +I was sure of that. What was the one chance? Why, this! She might be +kept alive on the chance that she could be forced to tell what, by the +way, she did not know, namely, the place where Mme. Dauvray's valuable +jewels were secreted. Now, follow this. We, the police, find the jewels +and take charge of them. Let that news reach the house in Geneva, and +on the same night Mlle. Celie loses her life, and not--very pleasantly. +They have no further use for her. She is merely a danger to them. So I +take my precautions--never mind for the moment what they were. I take +care that if the murderer is in Aix and gets wind of our discovery he +shall not be able to communicate his news." + +"The Post Office would have stopped letters or telegrams," said +Ricardo. "I understand." + +"On the contrary," replied Hanaud. "No, I took my precautions, which +were of quite a different kind, before I knew the house in Geneva or +the name of Rossignol. But one way of communication I did not think of. +I did not think of the possibility that the news might be sent to a +newspaper, which of course would publish it and cry it through the +streets of Geneva. The moment I heard the news I knew we must hurry. +The garden of the house ran down to the lake. A means of disposing of +Mlle. Celie was close at hand. And the night had fallen. As it was, we +arrived just in time, and no earlier than just in time. The paper had +been bought, the message had reached the house, Mlle. Celie was no +longer of any use, and every hour she stayed in that house was of +course an hour of danger to her captors." + +"What were they going to do?" asked Ricardo. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"It is not pretty--what they were going to do. We reach the garden in +our launch. At that moment Hippolyte and Adele, who is most likely +Hippolyte's wife, are in the lighted parlour on the basement floor. +Adele is preparing her morphia-needle. Hippolyte is going to get ready +the rowing-boat which was tied at the end of the landing-stage. Quietly +as we came into the bank, they heard or saw us. They ran out and hid in +the garden, having no time to lock the garden door, or perhaps not +daring to lock it lest the sound of the key should reach our ears. We +find that door upon the latch, the door of the room open; on the table +lies the morphia-needle. Upstairs lies Mlle. Celie--she is helpless, +she cannot see what they are meaning to do." + +"But she could cry out," exclaimed Ricardo. "She did not even do that!" + +"No, my friend, she could not cry out," replied Hanaud very seriously. +"I know why. She could not. No living man or woman could. Rest assured +of that!" + +Ricardo was mystified; but since the captain of the ship would not show +his observation, he knew it would be in vain to press him. + +"Well, while Adele was preparing her morphia-needle and Hippolyte was +about to prepare the boat, Jeanne upstairs was making her preparation +too. She was mending a sack. Did you see Mlle. Celie's eyes and face +when first she saw that sack? Ah! she understood! They meant to give +her a dose of morphia, and, as soon as she became unconscious, they +were going perhaps to take some terrible precaution--" Hanaud paused +for a second. "I only say perhaps as to that. But certainly they were +going to sew her up in that sack, row her well out across the lake, fix +a weight to her feet, and drop her quietly overboard. She was to wear +everything which she had brought with her to the house. Mlle. Celie +would have disappeared for ever, and left not even a ripple upon the +water to trace her by!" + +Ricardo clenched his hands. + +"But that's horrible!" he cried; and as he uttered the words the car +swerved into the drive and stopped before the door of the Hotel +Majestic. + +Ricardo sprang out. A feeling of remorse seized hold of him. All +through that evening he had not given one thought to Harry Wethermill, +so utterly had the excitement of each moment engrossed his mind. + +"He will be glad to know!" cried Ricardo. "To-night, at all events, he +shall sleep. I ought to have telegraphed to him from Geneva that we and +Miss Celia were coming back." He ran up the steps into the hotel. + +"I took care that he should know," said Hanaud, as he followed in +Ricardo's steps. + +"Then the message could not have reached him, else he would have been +expecting us," replied Ricardo, as he hurried into the office, where a +clerk sat at his books. + +"Is Mr. Wethermill in?" he asked. + +The clerk eyed him strangely. + +"Mr. Wethermill was arrested this evening," he said. + +Ricardo stepped back. + +"Arrested! When?" + +"At twenty-five minutes past ten," replied the clerk shortly. + +"Ah," said Hanaud quietly. "That was my telephone message." + +Ricardo stared in stupefaction at his companion. + +"Arrested!" he cried. "Arrested! But what for?" + +"For the murders of Marthe Gobin and Mme. Dauvray," said Hanaud. +"Good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MR. RICARDO IS BEWILDERED + + +Ricardo passed a most tempestuous night. He was tossed amongst dark +problems. Now it was Harry Wethermill who beset him. He repeated and +repeated the name, trying to grasp the new and sinister suggestion +which, if Hanaud were right, its sound must henceforth bear. Of course +Hanaud might be wrong. Only, if he were wrong, how had he come to +suspect Harry Wethermill? What had first directed his thoughts to that +seemingly heart-broken man? And when? Certain recollections became +vivid in Mr. Ricardo's mind--the luncheon at the Villa Rose, for +instance. Hanaud had been so insistent that the woman with the red hair +was to be found in Geneva, had so clearly laid it down that a message, +a telegram, a letter from Aix to Geneva, would enable him to lay his +hands upon the murderer in Aix. He was isolating the house in Geneva +even so early in the history of his investigations, even so soon he +suspected Harry Wethermill. Brains and audacity--yes, these two +qualities he had stipulated in the criminal. Ricardo now for the first +time understood the trend of all Hanaud's talk at that luncheon. He was +putting Harry Wethermill upon his guard, he was immobilising him, he +was fettering him in precautions; with a subtle skill he was forcing +him to isolate himself. And he was doing it deliberately to save the +life of Celia Harland in Geneva. Once Ricardo lifted himself up with +the hair stirring on his scalp. He himself had been with Wethermill in +the baccarat-rooms on the very night of the murder. They had walked +together up the hill to the hotel. It could not be that Harry +Wethermill was guilty. And yet, he suddenly remembered, they had +together left the rooms at an early hour. It was only ten o'clock when +they had separated in the hall, when they had gone, each to his own +room. There would have been time for Wethermill to reach the Villa Rose +and do his dreadful work upon that night before twelve, if all had been +arranged beforehand, if all went as it had been arranged. And as he +thought upon the careful planning of that crime, and remembered +Wethermill's easy chatter as they had strolled from table to table in +the Villa des Fleurs, Ricardo shuddered. Though he encouraged a taste +for the bizarre, it was with an effort. He was naturally of an orderly +mind, and to touch the eerie or inhuman caused him a physical +discomfort. So now he marvelled in a great uneasiness at the calm +placidity with which Wethermill had talked, his arm in his, while the +load of so dark a crime to be committed within the hour lay upon his +mind. Each minute he must have been thinking, with a swift spasm of the +heart, "Should such a precaution fail--should such or such an +unforeseen thing intervene," yet there had been never a sign of +disturbance, never a hint of any disquietude. + +Then Ricardo's thoughts turned as he tossed upon his bed to Celia +Harland, a tragic and a lonely figure. He recalled the look of +tenderness upon her face when her eyes had met Harry Wethermill's +across the baccarat-table in the Villa des Fleurs. He gained some +insight into the reason why she had clung so desperately to Hanaud's +coat-sleeve yesterday. Not merely had he saved her life. She was lying +with all her world of trust and illusion broken about her, and Hanaud +had raised her up. She had found some one whom she trusted--the big +Newfoundland dog, as she expressed it. Mr. Ricardo was still thinking +of Celia Harland when the morning came. He fell asleep, and awoke to +find Hanaud by his bed. + +"You will be wanted to-day," said Hanaud. + +Ricardo got up and walked down from the hotel with the detective. The +front door faces the hillside of Mont Revard, and on this side Mr. +Ricardo's rooms looked out. The drive from the front door curves round +the end of the long building and joins the road, which then winds down +towards the town past the garden at the back of the hotel. Down this +road the two men walked, while the supporting wall of the garden upon +their right hand grew higher and higher above their heads. They came to +a steep flight of steps which makes a short cut from the hotel to the +road, and at the steps Hanaud stopped. + +"Do you see?" he said. "On the opposite side there are no houses; there +is only a wall. Behind the wall there are climbing gardens and the +ground falls steeply to the turn of the road below. There's a flight of +steps leading down which corresponds with the flight of steps from the +garden. Very often there's a SERJENT-DE-VILLE stationed on the top of +the steps. But there was not one there yesterday afternoon at three. +Behind us is the supporting wall of the hotel garden. Well, look about +you. We cannot be seen from the hotel. There's not a soul in +sight--yes, there's some one coming up the hill, but we have been +standing here quite long enough for you to stab me and get back to your +coffee on the verandah of the hotel." + +Ricardo started back. + +"Marthe Gobin!" he cried. "It was here, then?" + +Hanaud nodded. + +"When we returned from the station in your motor-car and went up to +your rooms we passed Harry Wethermill sitting upon the verandah over +the garden drinking his coffee. He had the news then that Marthe Gobin +was on her way." + +"But you had isolated the house in Geneva. How could he have the news?" +exclaimed Ricardo, whose brain was whirling. + +"I had isolated the house from him, in the sense that he dared not +communicate with his accomplices. That is what you have to remember. He +could not even let them know that they must not communicate with him. +So he received a telegram. It was carefully worded. No doubt he had +arranged the wording of any message with the care which was used in all +the preparations. It ran like this"--and Hanaud took a scrap of paper +from his pocket and read out from it a copy of the telegram: "'Agent +arrives Aix 3.7 to negotiate purchase of your patent.' The telegram was +handed in at Geneva station at 12.45, five minutes after the train had +left which carried Marthe Gobin to Aix. And more, it was handed in by a +man strongly resembling Hippolyte Tace--that we know." + +"That was madness," said Ricardo. + +"But what else could they do over there in Geneva? They did not know +that Harry Wethermill was suspected. Harry Wethermill had no idea of it +himself. But, even if they had known, they must take the risk. Put +yourself into their place for a moment. They had seen my advertisement +about Celie Harland in the Geneva paper. Marthe Gobin, that busybody +who was always watching her neighbours, was no doubt watched herself. +They see her leave the house, an unusual proceeding for her with her +husband ill, as her own letter tells us. Hippolyte follows her to the +station, sees her take her ticket to Aix and mount into the train. He +must guess at once that she saw Celie Harland enter their house, that +she is travelling to Aix with the information of her whereabouts. At +all costs she must be prevented from giving that information. At all +risks, therefore, the warning telegram must be sent to Harry +Wethermill." + +Ricardo recognised the force of the argument. + +"If only you had heard of the telegram yesterday in time!" he cried. + +"Ah, yes!" Hanaud agreed. "But it was only sent off at a quarter to +one. It was delivered to Wethermill and a copy was sent to the +Prefecture, but the telegram was delivered first." + +"When was it delivered to Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. + +"At three. We had already left for the station. Wethermill was sitting +on the verandah. The telegram was brought to him there. It was brought +by a waiter in the hotel who remembers the incident very well. +Wethermill has seven minutes and the time it will take for Marthe Gobin +to drive from the station to the Majestic. What does he do? He runs up +first to your rooms, very likely not yet knowing what he must do. He +runs up to verify his telegram." + +"Are you sure of that?" cried Ricardo. "How can you be? You were at the +station with me. What makes you sure?" + +Hanaud produced a brown kid glove from his pocket. + +"This." + +"That is your glove; you told me so yesterday." + +"I told you so," replied Hanaud calmly; "but it is not my glove. It is +Wethermill's; there are his initials stamped upon the lining--see? I +picked up that glove in your room, after we had returned from the +station. It was not there before. He went to your rooms. No doubt he +searched for a telegram. Fortunately he did not examine your letters, +or Marthe Gobin would never have spoken to us as she did after she was +dead." + +"Then what did he do?" asked Ricardo eagerly; and, though Hanaud had +been with him at the entrance to the station all this while, he asked +the question in absolute confidence that the true answer would be given +to him. + +"He returned to the verandah wondering what he should do. He saw us +come back from the station in the motor-car and go up to your room. We +were alone. Marthe Gobin, then, was following. There was his chance. +Marthe Gobin must not reach us, must not tell her news to us. He ran +down the garden steps to the gate. No one could see him from the hotel. +Very likely he hid behind the trees, whence he could watch the road. A +cab comes up the hill; there's a woman in it--not quite the kind of +woman who stays at your hotel, M. Ricardo. Yet she must be going to +your hotel, for the road ends. The driver is nodding on his box, +refusing to pay any heed to his fare lest again she should bid him +hurry. His horse is moving at a walk. Wethermill puts his head in at +the window and asks if she has come to see M. Ricardo. Anxious for her +four thousand francs, she answers 'Yes.' Perhaps he steps into the cab, +perhaps as he walks by the side he strikes, and strikes hard and +strikes surely. Long before the cab reaches the hotel he is back again +on the verandah." + +"Yes," said Ricardo, "it's the daring of which you spoke which made the +crime possible--the same daring which made him seek your help. That was +unexampled." + +"No," replied Hanaud. "There's an historic crime in your own country, +monsieur. Cries for help were heard in a by-street of a town. When +people ran to answer them, a man was found kneeling by a corpse. It was +the kneeling man who cried for help, but it was also the kneeling man +who did the murder. I remembered that when I first began to suspect +Harry Wethermill." + +Ricardo turned eagerly. + +"And when--when did you first begin to suspect Harry Wethermill?" + +Hanaud smiled and shook his head. + +"That you shall know in good time. I am the captain of the ship." His +voice took on a deeper note. "But I prepare you. Listen! Daring and +brains, those were the property of Harry Wethermill--yes. But it is not +he who is the chief actor in the crime. Of that I am sure. He was no +more than one of the instruments." + +"One of the instruments? Used, then, by whom?" asked Ricardo. + +"By my Normandy peasant-woman, M. Ricardo," said Hanaud. "Yes, there's +the dominating figure--cruel, masterful, relentless--that strange +woman, Helene Vauquier. You are surprised? You will see! It is not the +man of intellect and daring; it's my peasant-woman who is at the bottom +of it all." + +"But she's free!" exclaimed Ricardo. "You let her go free!" + +"Free!" repeated Ricardo. "She was driven straight from the Villa Rose +to the depot. She has been kept AU SECRET ever since." + +Ricardo stared in amazement. + +"Already you knew of her guilt?" + +"Already she had lied to me in her description of Adele Rossignol. Do +you remember what she said--a black-haired woman with beady eyes; and I +only five minutes before had picked up from the table--this." + +He opened his pocket-book, and took from an envelope a long strand of +red hair. + +"But it was not only because she lied that I had her taken to the +depot. A pot of cold cream had disappeared from the room of Mlle. Celie." + +"Then Perrichet after all was right." + +"Perrichet after all was quite wrong--not to hold his tongue. For in +that pot of cold cream, as I was sure, were hidden those valuable +diamond earrings which Mlle. Celie habitually wore." + +The two men had reached the square in front of the Etablissement des +Bains. Ricardo dropped on to a bench and wiped his forehead. + +"But I am in a maze," he cried. "My head turns round. I don't know +where I am." + +Hanaud stood in front of Ricardo, smiling. He was not displeased with +his companion's bewilderment; it was all so much of tribute to himself. + +"I am the captain of the ship," he said. + +His smile irritated Ricardo, who spoke impatiently. + +"I should be very glad," he said, "if you would tell me how you +discovered all these things. And what it was that the little salon on +the first morning had to tell to you? And why Celia Harland ran from +the glass doors across the grass to the motor-car and again from the +carriage into the house on the lake? Why she did not resist yesterday +evening? Why she did not cry for help? How much of Helene Vauquier's +evidence was true and how much false? For what reason Wethermill +concerned himself in this affair? Oh! and a thousand things which I +don't understand." + +"Ah, the cushions, and the scrap of paper, and the aluminium flask," +said Hanaud; and the triumph faded from his face. He spoke now to +Ricardo with a genuine friendliness. "You must not be angry with me if +I keep you in the dark for a little while. I, too, Mr. Ricardo, have +artistic inclinations. I will not spoil the remarkable story which I +think Mlle. Celie will be ready to tell us. Afterwards I will willingly +explain to you what I read in the evidences of the room, and what so +greatly puzzled me then. But it is not the puzzle or its solution," he +said modestly, "which is most interesting here. Consider the people. +Mme. Dauvray, the old, rich, ignorant woman, with her superstitions and +her generosity, her desire to converse with Mme. de Montespan and the +great ladies of the past, and her love of a young, fresh face about +her; Helene Vauquier, the maid with her six years of confidential +service, who finds herself suddenly supplanted and made to tend and +dress in dainty frocks the girl who has supplanted her; the young girl +herself, that poor child, with her love of fine clothes, the Bohemian +who, brought up amidst trickeries and practising them as a profession, +looking upon them and upon misery and starvation and despair as the +commonplaces of life, keeps a simplicity and a delicacy and a freshness +which would have withered in a day had she been brought up otherwise; +Harry Wethermill, the courted and successful man of genius. + +"Just imagine if you can what his feelings must have been, when in Mme. +Dauvray's bedroom, with the woman he had uselessly murdered lying rigid +beneath the sheet, he saw me raise the block of wood from the inlaid +floor and take out one by one those jewel cases for which less than +twelve hours before he had been ransacking that very room. But what he +must have felt! And to give no sign! Oh, these people are the +interesting problems in this story. Let us hear what happened on that +terrible night. The puzzle--that can wait." In Mr. Ricardo's view +Hanaud was proved right. The extraordinary and appalling story which +was gradually unrolled of what had happened on that night of Tuesday in +the Villa Rose exceeded in its grim interest all the mystery of the +puzzle. But it was not told at once. + +The trouble at first with Mlle. Celie was a fear of sleep. She dared +not sleep--even with a light in the room and a nurse at her bedside. +When her eyes were actually closing she would force herself desperately +back into the living world. For when she slept she dreamed through +again that dark and dreadful night of Tuesday and the two days which +followed it, until at some moment endurance snapped and she woke up +screaming. But youth, a good constitution, and a healthy appetite had +their way with her in the end. + +She told her share of the story--she told what happened. There was +apparently one terrible scene when she was confronted with Harry +Wethermill in the office of Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge d'instruction, +and on her knees, with the tears streaming down her face, besought him +to confess the truth. For a long while he held out. And then there came +a strange and human turn to the affair. Adele Rossignol--or, to give +her real name, Adele Tace, the wife of Hippolyte--had conceived a +veritable passion for Harry Wethermill. He was of a not uncommon type, +cold and callous in himself, yet with the power to provoke passion in +women. And Adele Tace, as the story was told of how Harry Wethermill +had paid his court to Celia Harland, was seized with a vindictive +jealousy. Hanaud was not surprised. He knew the woman-criminal of his +country--brutal, passionate, treacherous. The anonymous letters in a +woman's handwriting which descend upon the Rue de Jerusalem, and betray +the men who have committed thefts, had left him no illusions upon that +figure in the history of crime. Adele Rossignol ran forward to confess, +so that Harry Wethermill might suffer to the last possible point of +suffering. Then at last Wethermill gave in and, broken down by the +ceaseless interrogations of the magistrate, confessed in his turn too. +The one, and the only one, who stood firmly throughout and denied the +crime was Helene Vauquier. Her thin lips were kept contemptuously +closed, whatever the others might admit. With a white, hard face, +quietly and respectfully she faced the magistrate week after week. She +was the perfect picture of a servant who knew her place. And nothing +was wrung from her. But without her help the story became complete. And +Ricardo was at pains to write it out. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +CELIA'S STORY + + +The story begins with the explanation of that circumstance which had +greatly puzzled Mr. Ricardo--Celia's entry into the household of Mme. +Dauvray. + +Celia's father was a Captain Harland, of a marching regiment, who had +little beyond good looks and excellent manners wherewith to support his +position. He was extravagant in his tastes, and of an easy mind in the +presence of embarrassments. To his other disadvantages he added that of +falling in love with a pretty girl no better off than himself. They +married, and Celia was born. For nine years they managed, through the +wife's constant devotion, to struggle along and to give their daughter +an education. Then, however, Celia's mother broke down under the strain +and died. Captain Harland, a couple of years later, went out of the +service with discredit, passed through the bankruptcy court, and turned +showman. His line was thought-reading; he enlisted the services of his +daughter, taught her the tricks of his trade, and became "The Great +Fortinbras" of the music-halls. Captain Harland would move amongst the +audience, asking the spectators in a whisper to think of a number or of +an article in their pockets, after the usual fashion, while the child, +in her short frock, with her long fair hair tied back with a ribbon, +would stand blind-folded upon the platform and reel off the answers +with astonishing rapidity. She was singularly quick, singularly +receptive. + +The undoubted cleverness of the performance, and the beauty of the +child, brought to them a temporary prosperity. The Great Fortinbras +rose from the music-halls to the assembly rooms of provincial towns. +The performance became genteel, and ladies flocked to the matinees. + +The Great Fortinbras dropped his pseudonym and became once more Captain +Harland. + +As Celia grew up, he tried a yet higher flight--he became a +spiritualist, with Celia for his medium. The thought-reading +entertainments became thrilling seances, and the beautiful child, now +grown into a beautiful girl of seventeen, created a greater sensation +as a medium in a trance than she had done as a lightning thought-reader. + +"I saw no harm in it," Celia explained to M. Fleuriot, without any +attempt at extenuation. "I never understood that we might be doing any +hurt to any one. People were interested. They were to find us out if +they could, and they tried to and they couldn't. I looked upon it quite +simply in that way. It was just my profession. I accepted it without +any question. I was not troubled about it until I came to Aix." + +A startling exposure, however, at Cambridge discredited the craze for +spiritualism, and Captain Harland's fortunes declined. He crossed with +his daughter to France and made a disastrous tour in that country, +wasted the last of his resources in the Casino at Dieppe, and died in +that town, leaving Celia just enough money to bury him and to pay her +third-class fare to Paris. + +There she lived honestly but miserably. The slimness of her figure and +a grace of movement which was particularly hers obtained her at last a +situation as a mannequin in the show-rooms of a modiste. She took a +room on the top floor of a house in the Rue St. Honore and settled down +to a hard and penurious life. + +"I was not happy or contented--no," said Celia frankly and decisively. +"The long hours in the close rooms gave me headaches and made me +nervous. I had not the temperament. And I was very lonely--my life had +been so different. I had had fresh air, good clothes, and freedom. Now +all was changed. I used to cry myself to sleep up in my little room, +wondering whether I would ever have friends. You see, I was quite +young--only eighteen--and I wanted to live." + +A change came in a few months, but a disastrous change. The modiste +failed. Celia was thrown out of work, and could get nothing to do. +Gradually she pawned what clothes she could spare; and then there came +a morning when she had a single five-franc piece in the world and owed +a month's rent for her room. She kept the five-franc piece all day and +went hungry, seeking for work. In the evening she went to a provision +shop to buy food, and the man behind the counter took the five-franc +piece. He looked at it, rung it on the counter, and, with a laugh, bent +it easily in half. + +"See here, my little one," he said, tossing the coin back to her, "one +does not buy good food with lead." + +Celia dragged herself out of the shop in despair. She was starving. She +dared not go back to her room. The thought of the concierge at the +bottom of the stairs, insistent for the rent, frightened her. She stood +on the pavement and burst into tears. A few people stopped and watched +her curiously, and went on again. Finally a sergent-de-ville told her +to go away. + +The girl moved on with the tears running down her cheeks. She was +desperate, she was lonely. + +"I thought of throwing myself into the Seine," said Celia simply, in +telling her story to the Juge d'Instruction. "Indeed, I went to the +river. But the water looked so cold, so terrible, and I was young. I +wanted so much to live. And then--the night came, and the lights made +the city bright, and I was very tired and--and--" + +And, in a word, the young girl went up to Montmartre in desperation, as +quickly as her tired legs would carry her. She walked once or twice +timidly past the restaurants, and, finally, entered one of them, hoping +that some one would take pity on her and give her some supper. She +stood just within the door of the supper-room. People pushed past +her--men in evening dress, women in bright frocks and jewels. No one +noticed her. She had shrunk into a corner, rather hoping not to be +noticed, now that she had come. But the novelty of her surroundings +wore off. She knew that for want of food she was almost fainting. There +were two girls engaged by the management to dance amongst the tables +while people had supper--one dressed as a page in blue satin, and the +other as a Spanish dancer. Both girls were kind. They spoke to Celia +between their dances. They let her waltz with them. Still no one +noticed her. She had no jewels, no fine clothes, no CHIC--the three +indispensable things. She had only youth and a pretty face. + +"But," said Celia, "without jewels and fine clothes and CHIC these go +for nothing in Paris. At last, however, Mme. Dauvray came in with a +party of friends from a theatre, and saw how unhappy I was, and gave me +some supper. She asked me about myself, and I told her. She was very +kind, and took me home with her, and I cried all the way in the +carriage. She kept me a few days, and then she told me that I was to +live with her, for often she was lonely too, and that if I would she +would some day find me a nice, comfortable husband and give me a +marriage portion. So all my troubles seemed to be at an end," said +Celia, with a smile. + +Within a fortnight Mme. Dauvray confided to Celia that there was a new +fortune-teller come to Paris, who, by looking into a crystal, could +tell the most wonderful things about the future. The old woman's eyes +kindled as she spoke. She took Celia to the fortune-teller's rooms next +day, and the girl quickly understood the ruling passion of the woman +who had befriended her. It took very little time then for Celia to +notice how easily Mme. Dauvray was duped, how perpetually she was +robbed. Celia turned the problem over in her mind. + +"Madame had been very good to me. She was kind and simple," said Celia, +with a very genuine affection in her voice. "The people whom we knew +laughed at her, and were ungenerous. But there are many women whom the +world respects who are worse than ever was poor Mme. Dauvray. I was +very fond of her, so I proposed to her that we should hold a seance, +and I would bring people from the spirit world I knew that I could +amuse her with something much more clever and more interesting than the +fortune-tellers. And at the same time I could save her from being +plundered. That was all I thought about." + +That was all she thought about, yes. She left Helene Vauquier out of +her calculations, and she did not foresee the effect of her seances +upon Mme. Dauvray. Celia had no suspicions of Helene Vauquier. She +would have laughed if any one had told her that this respectable and +respectful middle-aged woman, who was so attentive, so neat, so +grateful for any kindness, was really nursing a rancorous hatred +against her. Celia had sprung from Montmartre suddenly; therefore +Helene Vauquier despised her. Celia had taken her place in Mme. +Dauvray's confidence, had deposed her unwittingly, had turned the +confidential friend into a mere servant; therefore Helene Vauquier +hated her. And her hatred reached out beyond the girl, and embraced the +old, superstitious, foolish woman, whom a young and pretty face could +so easily beguile. Helene Vauquier despised them both, hated them both, +and yet must nurse her rancour in silence and futility. Then came the +seances, and at once, to add fuel to her hatred, she found herself +stripped of those gifts and commissions which she had exacted from the +herd of common tricksters who had been wont to make their harvest out +of Mme. Dauvray. Helene Vauquier was avaricious and greedy, like so +many of her class. Her hatred of Celia, her contempt for Mme. Dauvray, +grew into a very delirium. But it was a delirium she had the cunning to +conceal. She lived at white heat, but to all the world she had lost +nothing of her calm. + +Celia did not foresee the hatred she was arousing; nor, on the other +hand, did she foresee the overwhelming effect of these spiritualistic +seances on Mme. Dauvray. Celia had never been brought quite close to +the credulous before. + +"There had always been the row of footlights," she said. "I was on the +platform; the audience was in the hall; or, if it was at a house, my +father made the arrangements. I only came in at the last moment, played +my part, and went away. It was never brought home to me that some +amongst these people really and truly believed. I did not think about +it. Now, however, when I saw Mme. Dauvray so feverish, so excited, so +firmly convinced that great ladies from the spirit world came and spoke +to her, I became terrified. I had aroused a passion which I had not +suspected. I tried to stop the seances, but I was not allowed. I had +aroused a passion which I could not control. I was afraid that Mme. +Dauvray's whole life--it seems absurd to those who did not know her, +but those who did will understand--yes, her whole life and happiness +would be spoilt if she discovered that what she believed in was all a +trick." + +She spoke with a simplicity and a remorse which it was difficult to +disbelieve. M. Fleuriot, the judge, now at last convinced that the +Dreyfus affair was for nothing in the history of this crime, listened +to her with sympathy. + +"That is your explanation, mademoiselle," he said gently. "But I must +tell you that we have another." + +"Yes, monsieur?" Celia asked. + +"Given by Helene Vauquier," said Fleuriot. + +Even after these days Celia could not hear that woman's name without a +shudder of fear and a flinching of her whole body. Her face grew white, +her lips dry. + +"I know, monsieur, that Helene Vauquier is not my friend," she said. "I +was taught that very cruelly." + +"Listen, mademoiselle, to what she says," said the judge, and he read +out to Celia an extract or two from Hanaud's report of his first +interview with Helene Vauquier in her bedroom at the Villa Rose. + +"You hear what she says. 'Mme. Dauvray would have had seances all day, +but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at the end of them. +But Mlle. Celie was of an address.' And again, speaking of Mme. +Dauvray's queer craze that the spirit of Mme. de Montespan should be +called up, Helene Vauquier says: 'She was never gratified. Always she +hoped. Always Mlle. Celie tantalised her with the hope. She would not +spoil her fine affairs by making these treats too common.' Thus she +attributes your reluctance to multiply your experiments to a desire to +make the most profit possible out of your wares, like a good business +woman." + +"It is not true, monsieur," cried Celia earnestly. "I tried to stop the +seances because now for the first time I recognised that I had been +playing with a dangerous thing. It was a revelation to me. I did not +know what to do. Mme. Dauvray would promise me everything, give me +everything, if only I would consent when I refused. I was terribly +frightened of what would happen. I did not want power over people. I +knew it was not good for her that she should suffer so much excitement. +No, I did not know what to do. And so we all moved to Aix." + +And there she met Harry Wethermill on the second day after her arrival, +and proceeded straightway for the first time to fall in love. To Celia +it seemed that at last that had happened for which she had so longed. +She began really to live as she understood life at this time. The day, +until she met Harry Wethermill, was one flash of joyous expectation; +the hours when they were together a time of contentment which thrilled +with some chance meeting of the hands into an exquisite happiness. Mme. +Dauvray understood quickly what was the matter, and laughed at her +affectionately. + +"Celie, my dear," she said, "your friend, M. Wethermill--'Arry, is it +not? See, I pronounce your tongue--will not be as comfortable as the +nice, fat, bourgeois gentleman I meant to find for you. But, since you +are young, naturally you want storms. And there will be storms, Celie," +she concluded, with a laugh. + +Celia blushed. + +"I suppose there will," she said regretfully. There were, indeed, +moments when she was frightened of Harry Wethermill, but frightened +with a delicious thrill of knowledge that he was only stern because he +cared so much. + +But in a day or two there began to intrude upon her happiness a +stinging dissatisfaction with her past life. At times she fell into +melancholy, comparing her career with that of the man who loved her. At +times she came near to an extreme irritation with Helene Vauquier. Her +lover was in her thoughts. As she put it herself: + +"I wanted always to look my best, and always to be very good." + +Good in the essentials of life, that is to be understood. She had lived +in a lax world. She was not particularly troubled by the character of +her associates; she was untouched by them; she liked her fling at the +baccarat-tables. These were details, and did not distress her. Love had +not turned her into a Puritan. But certain recollections plagued her +soul. The visit to the restaurant at Montmartre, for instance, and the +seances. Of these, indeed, she thought to have made an end. There were +the baccarat-rooms, the beauty of the town and the neighbourhood to +distract Mme. Dauvray. Celia kept her thoughts away from seances. There +was no seance as yet held in the Villa Rose. And there would have been +none but for Helene Vauquier. + +One evening, however, as Harry Wethermill walked down from the Cercle +to the Villa des Fleurs, a woman's voice spoke to him from behind. + +"Monsieur!" + +He turned and saw Mme. Dauvray's maid. He stopped under a street lamp, +and said: + +"Well, what can I do for you?" + +The woman hesitated. + +"I hope monsieur will pardon me," she said humbly. "I am committing a +great impertinence. But I think monsieur is not very kind to Mlle. +Celie." + +Wethermill stared at her. + +"What on earth do you mean?" he asked angrily. + +Helene Vauquier looked him quietly in the face. + +"It is plain, monsieur, that Mlle. Celie loves monsieur. Monsieur has +led her on to love him. But it is also plain to a woman with quick eyes +that monsieur himself cares no more for mademoiselle than for the +button on his coat. It is not very kind to spoil the happiness of a +young and pretty girl, monsieur." + +Nothing could have been more respectful than the manner in which these +words were uttered. Wethermill was taken in by it. He protested +earnestly, fearing lest the maid should become an enemy. + +"Helene, it is not true that I am playing with Mlle. Celie. Why should +I not care for her?" + +Helene Vauquier shrugged her shoulders. The question needed no answer. + +"Why should I seek her so often if I did not care?" + +And to this question Helene Vauquier smiled--a quiet, slow, +confidential smile. + +"What does monsieur want of Mme. Dauvray?" she asked. And the question +was her answer. + +Wethermill stood silent. Then he said abruptly: + +"Nothing, of course; nothing." And he walked away. + +But the smile remained on Helene Vauquier's face. What did they all +want of Mme. Dauvray? She knew very well. It was what she herself +wanted--with other things. It was money--always money. Wethermill was +not the first to seek the good graces of Mme. Dauvray through her +pretty companion. Helene Vauquier went home. She was not discontented +with her conversation. Wethermill had paused long enough before he +denied the suggestion of her words. She approached him a few days later +a second time and more openly. She was shopping in the Rue du Casino +when he passed her. He stopped of his own accord and spoke to her. +Helene Vauquier kept a grave and respectful face. But there was a pulse +of joy at her heart. He was coming to her hand. + +"Monsieur," she said, "you do not go the right way." And again her +strange smile illuminated her face. "Mlle. Celie sets a guard about +Mme. Dauvray. She will not give to people the opportunity to find +madame generous." + +"Oh," said Wethermill slowly. "Is that so?" And he turned and walked by +Helene Vauquier's side. + +"Never speak of Mme. Dauvray's wealth, monsieur, if you would keep the +favour of Mlle. Celie. She is young, but she knows her world." + +"I have not spoken of money to her," replied Wethermill; and then he +burst out laughing. "But why should you think that I--I, of all +men--want money?" he asked. + +And Helene answered him again enigmatically. + +"If I am wrong, monsieur, I am sorry, but you can help me too," she +said, in her submissive voice. And she passed on, leaving Wethermill +rooted to the ground. + +It was a bargain she proposed--the impertinence of it! It was a bargain +she proposed--the value of it! In that shape ran Harry Wethermill's +thoughts. He was in desperate straits, though to the world's eye he was +a man of wealth. A gambler, with no inexpensive tastes, he had been +always in need of money. The rights in his patent he had mortgaged long +ago. He was not an idler; he was no sham foisted as a great man on an +ignorant public. He had really some touch of genius, and he cultivated +it assiduously. But the harder he worked, the greater was his need of +gaiety and extravagance. Gifted with good looks and a charm of manner, +he was popular alike in the great world and the world of Bohemia. He +kept and wanted to keep a foot in each. That he was in desperate +straits now, probably Helene Vauquier alone in Aix had recognised. She +had drawn her inference from one simple fact. Wethermill asked her at a +later time when they were better acquainted how she had guessed his +need. + +"Monsieur," she replied, "you were in Aix without a valet, and it +seemed to me that you were of that class of men who would never move +without a valet so long as there was money to pay his wages. That was +my first thought. Then when I saw you pursue your friendship with Mlle. +Celie--you, who so clearly to my eyes did not love her--I felt sure." + +On the next occasion that the two met, it was again Harry Wethermill +who sought Helene Vauquier. He talked for a minute or two upon +indifferent subjects, and then he said quickly: + +"I suppose Mme. Dauvray is very rich?" + +"She has a great fortune in jewels," said Helene Vauquier. + +Wethermill started. He was agitated that evening, the woman saw. His +hands shook, his face twitched. Clearly he was hard put to it. For he +seldom betrayed himself. She thought it time to strike. + +"Jewels which she keeps in the safe in her bedroom," she added. + +"Then why don't you--?" he began, and stopped. + +"I said that I too needed help," replied Helene, without a ruffle of +her composure. + +It was nine o'clock at night. Helene Vauquier had come down to the +Casino with a wrap for Mme. Dauvray. The two people were walking down +the little street of which the Casino blocks the end. And it happened +that an attendant at the Casino, named Alphonse Ruel, passed them, +recognised them both, and--smiled to himself with some amusement. What +was Wethermill doing in company with Mme. Dauvray's maid? Ruel had no +doubt. Ruel had seen Wethermill often enough these recent days with +Mme. Dauvray's pretty companion. Ruel had all a Frenchman's sympathy +with lovers. He wished them well, those two young and attractive +people, and hoped that the maid would help their plans. + +But as he passed he caught a sentence spoken suddenly by Wethermill. + +"Well, it is true; I must have money." And the agitated voice and words +remained fixed in his memory. He heard, too, a warning "Hush!" from the +maid. Then they passed out of his hearing. But he turned and saw that +Wethermill was talking volubly. What Harry Wethermill was saying he was +saying in a foolish burst of confidence. + +"You have guessed it, Helene--you alone." He had mortgaged his patent +twice over--once in France, once in England--and the second time had +been a month ago. He had received a large sum down, which went to pay +his pressing creditors. He had hoped to pay the sum back from a new +invention. + +"But Helene, I tell you," he said, "I have a conscience." And when she +smiled he explained. "Oh, not what the priests would call a conscience; +that I know. But none the less I have a conscience--a conscience about +the things which really matter, at all events to me. There is a flaw in +that new invention. It can be improved; I know that. But as yet I do +not see how, and--I cannot help it--I must get it right; I cannot let +it go imperfect when I know that it's imperfect, when I know that it +can be improved, when I am sure that I shall sooner or later hit upon +the needed improvement. That is what I mean when I say I have a +conscience." + +Helena Vauquier smiled indulgently. Men were queer fish. Things which +were really of no account troubled and perplexed them and gave them +sleepless nights. But it was not for her to object, since it was one of +these queer anomalies which was giving her her chance. + +"And the people are finding out that you have sold your rights twice +over," she said sympathetically. "That is a pity, monsieur." + +"They know," he answered; "those in England know." + +"And they are very angry?" + +"They threaten me," said Wethermill. "They give me a month to restore +the money. Otherwise there will be disgrace, imprisonment, penal +servitude." + +Helene Vauquier walked calmly on. No sign of the intense joy which she +felt was visible in her face, and only a trace of it in her voice. + +"Monsieur will, perhaps, meet me to-morrow in Geneva," she said. And she +named a small cafe in a back street. "I can get a holiday for the +afternoon." And as they were near to the villa and the lights, she +walked on ahead. + +Wethermill loitered behind. He had tried his luck at the tables and had +failed. And--and--he must have the money. + +He travelled, accordingly, the next day to Geneva, and was there +presented to Adele Tace and Hippolyte. + +"They are trusted friends of mine," said Helene Vauquier to Wethermill, +who was not inspired to confidence by the sight of the young man with +the big ears and the plastered hair. As a matter of fact, she had never +met them before they came this year to Aix. + +The Tace family, which consisted of Adele and her husband and Jeanne, +her mother, were practised criminals. They had taken the house in +Geneva deliberately in order to carry out some robberies from the great +villas on the lake-side. But they had not been fortunate; and a +description of Mme. Dauvray's jewellery in the woman's column of a +Geneva newspaper had drawn Adele Tace over to Aix. She had set about +the task of seducing Mme. Dauvray's maid, and found a master, not an +instrument. + +In the small cafe on that afternoon of July Helene Vauquier instructed +her accomplices, quietly and methodically, as though what she proposed +was the most ordinary stroke of business. Once or twice subsequently +Wethermill, who was the only safe go-between, went to the house in +Geneva, altering his hair and wearing a moustache, to complete the +arrangements. He maintained firmly at his trial that at none of these +meetings was there any talk of murder. + +"To be sure," said the judge, with a savage sarcasm. "In decent +conversation there is always a reticence. Something is left to be +understood." + +And it is difficult to understand how murder could not have been an +essential part of their plan, since---But let us see what happened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE FIRST MOVE + + +On the Friday before the crime was committed Mme. Dauvray and Celia +dined at the Villa des Fleurs. While they were drinking their coffee +Harry Wethermill joined them. He stayed with them until Mme. Dauvray +was ready to move, and then all three walked into the baccarat rooms +together. But there, in the throng of people, they were separated. + +Harry Wethermill was looking carefully after Celia, as a good lover +should. He had, it seemed, no eyes for any one else; and it was not +until a minute or two had passed that the girl herself noticed that +Mme. Dauvray was not with them. + +"We will find her easily," said Harry. + +"Of course," replied Celia. + +"There is, after all, no hurry," said Wethermill, with a laugh; "and +perhaps she was not unwilling to leave us together." + +Celia dimpled to a smile. + +"Mme. Dauvray is kind to me," she said, with a very pretty timidity. + +"And yet more kind to me," said Wethermill in a low voice which brought +the blood into Celia's cheeks. + +But even while he spoke he soon caught sight of Mme. Dauvray standing +by one of the tables; and near to her was Adele Tace. Adele had not yet +made Mme. Dauvray's acquaintance; that was evident. She was apparently +unaware of her; but she was gradually edging towards her. Wethermill +smiled, and Celia caught the smile. + +"What is it?" she asked, and her head began to turn in the direction of +Mme. Dauvray. + +"Why, I like your frock--that's all," said Wethermill at once; and +Celia's eyes went down to it. + +"Do you?" she said, with a pleased smile. It was a dress of dark blue +which suited her well. "I am glad. I think it is pretty." And they +passed on. + +Wethermill stayed by the girl's side throughout the evening. Once again +he saw Mme. Dauvray and Adele Tace. But now they were together; now +they were talking. The first step had been taken. Adele Tace had +scraped acquaintance with Mme. Dauvray. Celia saw them almost at the +same moment. + +"Oh, there is Mme. Dauvray," she cried, taking a step towards her. + +Wethermill detained the girl. + +"She seems quite happy," he said; and, indeed, Mme. Dauvray was talking +volubly and with the utmost interest, the jewels sparkling about her +neck. She raised her head, saw Celia, nodded to her affectionately, and +then pointed her out to her companion. Adele Tace looked the girl over +with interest and smiled contentedly. There was nothing to be feared +from her. Her youth, her very daintiness, seemed to offer her as the +easiest of victims. + +"You see Mme. Dauvray does not want you," said Harry Wethermill. "Let +us go and play CHEMIN-DE-FER"; and they did, moving off into one of the +further rooms. + +It was not until another hour had passed that Celia rose and went in +search of Mme. Dauvray. She found her still talking earnestly to Adele +Tace. Mme. Dauvray got up at once. + +"Are you ready to go, dear?" she asked, and she turned to Adele Tace. +"This is Celie, Mme. Rossignol," she said, and she spoke with a marked +significance and a note of actual exultation in her voice. + +Celia, however, was not unused to this tone. Mme. Dauvray was proud of +her companion, and had a habit of showing her off, to the girl's +discomfort. The three women spoke a few words, and then Mme. Dauvray +and Celia left the rooms and walked to the entrance-doors. But as they +walked Celia became alarmed. + +She was by nature extraordinarily sensitive to impressions. It was to +that quick receptivity that the success of "The Great Fortinbras" had +been chiefly due. She had a gift of rapid comprehension. It was not +that she argued, or deducted, or inferred. But she felt. To take a +metaphor from the work of the man she loved, she was a natural +receiver. So now, although no word was spoken, she was aware that Mme. +Dauvray was greatly excited--greatly disturbed; and she dreaded the +reason of that excitement and disturbance. + +While they were driving home in the motor-car she said apprehensively: + +"You met a friend then, to-night, madame?" + +"No," said Mme. Dauvray; "I made a friend. I had not met Mme. Rossignol +before. A bracelet of hers came undone, and I helped her to fasten it. +We talked afterwards. She lives in Geneva." + +Mme. Dauvray was silent for a moment or two. Then she turned +impulsively and spoke in a voice of appeal. + +"Celie, we talked of things"; and the girl moved impatiently. She +understood very well what were the things of which Mme. Dauvray and her +new friend had talked. "And she laughed. ... I could not bear it." + +Celia was silent, and Mme. Dauvray went on in a voice of awe: + +"I told her of the wonderful things which happened when I sat with +Helene in the dark--how the room filled with strange sounds, how +ghostly fingers touched my forehead and my eyes. She laughed--Adele +Rossignol laughed, Celie. I told her of the spirits with whom we held +converse. She would not believe. Do you remember the evening, Celie, +when Mme. de Castiglione came back an old, old woman, and told us how, +when she had grown old and had lost her beauty and was very lonely, she +would no longer live in the great house which was so full of torturing +memories, but took a small APPARTEMENT near by, where no one knew her; +and how she used to walk out late at night, and watch, with her eyes +full of tears, the dark windows which had been once so bright with +light? Adele Rossignol would not believe. I told her that I had found +the story afterwards in a volume of memoirs. Adele Rossignol laughed +and said no doubt you had read that volume yourself before the seance." + +Celia stirred guiltily. + +"She had no faith in you, Celie. It made me angry, dear. She said that +you invented your own tests. She sneered at them. A string across a +cupboard! A child, she said, could manage that; much more, then, a +clever young lady. Oh, she admitted that you were clever! Indeed, she +urged that you were far too clever to submit to the tests of some one +you did not know. I replied that you would. I was right, Celie, was I +not?" + +And again the appeal sounded rather piteously in Mme. Dauvray's voice. + +"Tests!" said Celia, with a contemptuous laugh. And, in truth, she was +not afraid of them. Mme. Dauvray's voice at once took courage. + +"There!" she cried triumphantly. "I was sure. I told her so. Celie, I +arranged with her that next Tuesday--" + +And Celia interrupted quickly. + +"No! Oh, no!" + +Again there was silence; and then Mme. Dauvray said gently, but very +seriously: + +"Celie, you are not kind." + +Celia was moved by the reproach. + +"Oh, madame!" she cried eagerly. "Please don't think that. How could I +be anything else to you who are so kind to me?" + +"Then prove it, Celie. On Tuesday I have asked Mme. Rossignol to come; +and--" The old woman's voice became tremulous with excitement. "And +perhaps--who knows?--perhaps SHE will appear to us." + +Celia had no doubt who "she" was. She was Mme. de Montespan. + +"Oh, no, madame!" she stammered. "Here, at Aix, we are not in the +spirit for such things." + +And then, in a voice of dread, Mme. Dauvray asked: "Is it true, then, +what Adele said?" + +And Celia started violently. Mme. Dauvray doubted. + +"I believe it would break my heart, my dear, if I were to think that; +if I were to know that you had tricked me," she said, with a trembling +voice. + +Celia covered her face with her hands. It would be true. She had +no doubt of it. Mme. Dauvray would never forgive herself--would never +forgive Celia. Her infatuation had grown so to engross her that the +rest of her life would surely be embittered. It was not merely a +passion--it was a creed as well. Celia shrank from the renewal of these +seances. Every fibre in her was in revolt. They were so unworthy--so +unworthy of Harry Wethermill, and of herself as she now herself wished +to be. But she had to pay now; the moment for payment had come. + +"Celie," said Mme. Dauvray, "it isn't true! Surely it isn't true?" + +Celia drew her hands away from her face. + +"Let Mme. Rossignol come on Tuesday!" she cried, and the old woman +caught the girl's hand and pressed it with affection. + +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" she cried. "Adele Rossignol laughs +to-night; we shall convince her on Tuesday, Celie! Celie, I am so +glad!" And her voice sank into a solemn whisper, pathetically +ludicrous. "It is not right that she should laugh! To bring people back +through the gates of the spirit-world--that is wonderful." + +To Celia the sound of the jargon learnt from her own lips, used by +herself so thoughtlessly in past times, was odious. "For the last +time," she pleaded to herself. All her life was going to change; though +no word had yet been spoken by Harry Wethermill, she was sure of it. +Just for this one last time, then, so that she might leave Mme. Dauvray +the colours of her belief, she would hold a seance at the Villa Rose. + +Mme. Dauvray told the news to Helene Vauquier when they reached the +villa. + +"You will be present, Helene," she cried excitedly. "It will be +Tuesday. There will be the three of us." + +"Certainly, if madame wishes," said Helene submissively. She looked +round the room. "Mlle. Celie can be placed on a chair in that recess +and the curtains drawn, whilst we--madame and madame's friend and +I--can sit round this table under the side windows." + +"Yes," said Celia, "that will do very well." + +It was Madame Dauvray's habit when she was particularly pleased with +Celia to dismiss her maid quickly, and to send her to brush the girl's +hair at night; and in a little while on this night Helene went to +Celia's room. While she brushed Celia's hair she told her that +Servettaz's parents lived at Chambery, and that he would like to see +them. + +"But the poor man is afraid to ask for a day," she said. "He has been +so short a time with madame." + +"Of course madame will give him a holiday if he asks," replied Celia +with a smile. "I will speak to her myself to-morrow." + +"It would be kind of mademoiselle," said Helene Vauquier. "But +perhaps--" She stopped. + +"Well," said Celia. + +"Perhaps mademoiselle would do better still to speak to Servattaz +himself and encourage him to ask with his own lips. Madame has her +moods, is it not so? She does not always like it to be forgotten that +she is the mistress." + +On the next day accordingly Celia did speak to Servettaz, and Servettaz +asked for his holiday. + +"But of course," Mme. Dauvray at once replied. "We must decide upon a +day." + +It was then that Helene Vauquier ventured humbly upon a suggestion. + +"Since madame has a friend coming here on Tuesday, perhaps that would +be the best day for him to go. Madame would not be likely to take a +long drive that afternoon." + +"No, indeed," replied Mme. Dauvray. "We shall all three dine together +early in Aix and return here." + +"Then I will tell him he may go to-morrow," said Celia. + +For this conversation took place on the Monday, and in the evening Mme. +Dauvray and Celia went as usual to the Villa des Fleurs and dined there. + +"I was in a bad mind," said Celia, when asked by the Juge d'Instruction +to explain that attack of nerves in the garden which Ricardo had +witnessed. "I hated more and more the thought of the seance which was +to take place on the morrow. I felt that I was disloyal to Harry. My +nerves were all tingling. I was not nice that night at all," she added +quaintly. "But at dinner I determined that if I met Harry after dinner, +as I was sure to do, I would tell him the whole truth about myself. +However, when I did meet him I was frightened. I knew how stern he +could suddenly look. I dreaded what he would think. I was too afraid +that I should lose him. No, I could not speak; I had not the courage. +That made me still more angry with myself, and so I--I quarrelled at +once with Harry. He was surprised; but it was natural, wasn't it? What +else should one do under such circumstances, except quarrel with the +man one loved? Yes, I really quarrelled with him, and said things which +I thought and hoped would hurt. Then I ran away from him lest I should +break down and cry. I went to the tables and lost at once all the money +I had except one note of five louis. But that did not console me. And I +ran out into the garden, very unhappy. There I behaved like a child, +and Mr. Ricardo saw me. But it was not the little money I had lost +which troubled me; no, it was the thought of what a coward I was. +Afterwards Harry and I made it up, and I thought, like the little fool +I was, that he wanted to ask me to marry him. But I would not let him +that night. Oh! I wanted him to ask me--I was longing for him to ask +me--but not that night. Somehow I felt that the seance and the tricks +must be all over and done with before I could listen or answer." + +The quiet and simple confession touched the magistrate who listened to +it with profound pity. He shaded his eyes with his hand. The girl's +sense of her unworthiness, the love she had given so unstintingly to +Harry Wethermill, the deep pride she had felt in the delusion that he +loved her too, had in it an irony too bitter. But he was aroused to +anger against the man. + +"Go on, mademoiselle," he said. But in spite of himself his voice +trembled. + +"So I arranged with him that we should meet on Wednesday, as Mr. +Ricardo heard." + +"You told him that you would 'want him' on Wednesday," said the Judge +quoting Mr. Ricardo's words. + +"Yes," replied Celia. "I meant that the last word of all these +deceptions would have been spoken. I should be free to hear what he had +to say to me. You see, monsieur, I was so sure that I knew what it was +he had to say to me--" and her voice broke upon the words. She +recovered herself with an effort. "Then I went home with Mme. Dauvray." + +On the morning of Tuesday, however, there came a letter from Adele +Tace, of which no trace was afterwards discovered. The letter invited +Mme. Dauvray and Celia to come out to Annecy and dine with her at an +hotel there. They could then return together to Aix. The proposal +fitted well with Mme. Dauvray's inclinations. She was in a feverish +mood of excitement. + +"Yes, it will be better that we dine quietly together in a place where +there is no noise and no crowd, and where no one knows us," she said; +and she looked up the time-table. "There is a train back which reaches +Aix at nine o'clock," she said, "so we need not spoil Servettaz' +holiday." + +"His parents will be expecting him," Helene Vauquier added. + +Accordingly Servettaz left for Chambery by the 1.50 train from Aix; and +later on in the afternoon Mme. Dauvray and Celia went by train to +Annecy. In the one woman's mind was the queer longing that "she" should +appear and speak to-night; in the girl's there was a wish passionate as +a cry. "This shall be the last time," she said to herself again and +again--"the very last." + +Meanwhile, Helene Vauquier, it must be held, burnt carefully Adele +Taces letter. She was left in the Villa Rose with the charwoman to keep +her company. The charwoman bore testimony that Helene Vauquier +certainly did burn a letter in the kitchen-stove, and that after she +had burned it she sat for a long time rocking herself in a chair, with +a smile of great pleasure upon her face, and now and then moistening +her lips with her tongue. But Helene Vauquier kept her mouth sealed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AFTERNOON OF TUESDAY + + +Mme. Dauvray and Celia found Adele Rossignol, to give Adele Tace the +name which she assumed, waiting for them impatiently in the garden of +an hotel at Annecy, on the Promenade du Paquier. She was a tall, lithe +woman, and she was dressed, by the purse and wish of Helene Vauquier, +in a robe and a long coat of sapphire velvet, which toned down the +coarseness of her good looks and lent something of elegance to her +figure. + +"So it is mademoiselle," Adele began, with a smile of raillery, "who is +so remarkably clever." + +"Clever?" answered Celia, looking straight at Adele, as though through +her she saw mysteries beyond. She took up her part at once. Since for +the last time it had got to be played, there must be no fault in the +playing. For her own sake, for the sake of Mme. Dauvray's happiness, +she must carry it off to-night with success. The suspicions of Adele +Rossignol must obtain no verification. She spoke in a quiet and most +serious voice. "Under spirit-control no one is clever. One does the +bidding of the spirit which controls." + +"Perfectly," said Adele in a malicious tone. "I only hope you will see +to it, mademoiselle, that some amusing spirits control you this evening +and appear before us." + +"I am only the living gate by which the spirit forms pass from the +realm of mind into the world of matter," Celia replied. + +"Quite so," said Adele comfortably. "Now let us be sensible and dine. +We can amuse ourselves with mademoiselle's rigmaroles afterwards." + +Mme. Dauvray was indignant. Celia, for her part, felt humiliated and +small. They sat down to their dinner in the garden, but the rain began +to fall and drove them indoors. There were a few people dining at the +same hour, but none near enough to overhear them. Alike in the garden +and the dining-room, Adele Tace kept up the same note of ridicule and +disbelief. She had been carefully tutored for her work. She was able to +cite the stock cases of exposure--"LES FRERES Davenport," as she called +them, Eusapia Palladino and Dr. Slade. She knew the precautions which +had been taken to prevent trickery and where those precautions had +failed. Her whole conversation was carefully planned to one end, and to +one end alone. She wished to produce in the minds of her companions so +complete an impression of her scepticism that it would seem the most +natural thing in the world to both of them that she should insist upon +subjecting Celia to the severest tests. The rain ceased, and they took +their coffee on the terrace of the hotel. Mme. Dauvray had been really +pained by the conversation of Adele Tace. She had all the missionary +zeal of a fanatic. + +"I do hope, Adele, that we shall make you believe. But we shall. Oh, I +am confident we shall." And her voice was feverish. + +Adele dropped for the moment her tone of raillery. + +"I am not unwilling to believe," she said, "but I cannot. I am +interested--yes. You see how much I have studied the subject. But I +cannot believe. I have heard stories of how these manifestations are +produced--stories which make me laugh. I cannot help it. The tricks are +so easy. A young girl wearing a black frock which does not rustle--it +is always a black frock, is it not, because a black frock cannot be +seen in the dark?--carrying a scarf or veil, with which she can make +any sort of headdress if only she is a little clever, and shod in a +pair of felt-soled slippers, is shut up in a cabinet or placed behind a +screen, and the lights are turned down or out--" Adele broke off with a +comic shrug of the shoulders. "Bah! It ought not to deceive a child." + +Celia sat with a face which WOULD grow red. She did not look, but none +the less she was aware that Mme. Dauvray was gazing at her with a +perplexed frown and some return of her suspicion showing in her eyes. +Adele Tace was not content to leave the subject there. + +"Perhaps," she said, with a smile, "Mlle. Celie dresses in that way for +a seance?" + +"Madame shall see to-night," Celia stammered, and Camille Dauvray rather +sternly repeated her words. + +"Yes, Adele shall see to-night. I myself will decide what you shall +wear, Celie." + +Adele Tace casually suggested the kind of dress which she would prefer. + +"Something light in colour with a train, something which will hiss and +whisper if mademoiselle moves about the room--yes, and I think one of +mademoiselle's big hats," she said. "We will have mademoiselle as +modern as possible, so that, when the great ladies of the past appear +in the coiffure of their day, we may be sure it is not Mlle. Celie who +represents them." + +"I will speak to Helene," said Mme. Dauvray, and Adele Tace was content. + +There was a particular new dress of which she knew, and it was very +desirable that Mlle. Celie should wear it to-night. For one thing, if +Celia wore it, it would help the theory that she had put it on because +she expected that night a lover; for another, with that dress there +went a pair of satin slippers which had just come home from a shoemaker +at Aix, and which would leave upon soft mould precisely the same +imprints as the grey suede shoes which the girl was wearing now. + +Celia was not greatly disconcerted by Mme. Rossignol's precautions. She +would have to be a little more careful, and Mme. de Montespan would be +a little longer in responding to the call of Mme. Dauvray than most of +the other dead ladies of the past had been. But that was all. She was, +however, really troubled in another way. All through dinner, at every +word of the conversation, she had felt her reluctance towards this +seance swelling into a positive disgust. More than once she had felt +driven by some uncontrollable power to rise up at the table and cry out +to Adele: + +"You are right! It IS trickery. There is no truth in it." + +But she had mastered herself. For opposite to her sat her patroness, +her good friend, the woman who had saved her. The flush upon Mme. +Dauvray's cheeks and the agitation of her manner warned Celia how much +hung upon the success of this last seance. How much for both of them! + +And in the fullness of that knowledge a great fear assailed her. She +began to be afraid, so strong was her reluctance, that she would not +bring her heart into the task. "Suppose I failed to-night because I +could not force myself to wish not to fail!" she thought, and she +steeled herself against the thought. To-night she must not fail. For +apart altogether from Mme. Dauvray's happiness, her own, it seemed, was +at stake too. + +"It must be from my lips that Harry learns what I have been," she said +to herself, and with the resolve she strengthened herself. + +"I will wear what you please," she said, with a smile. "I only wish +Mme. Rossignol to be satisfied." + +"And I shall be," said Adele, "if--" She leaned forward in anxiety. She +had come to the real necessity of Helene Vauquier's plan. "If we +abandon as quite laughable the cupboard door and the string across it; +if, in a word, mademoiselle consents that we tie her hand and foot and +fasten her securely in a chair. Such restraints are usual in the +experiments of which I have read. Was there not a medium called Mlle. +Cook who was secured in this way, and then remarkable things, which I +could not believe, were supposed to have happened?" + +"Certainly I permit it," said Celia, with indifference; and Mme. +Dauvray cried enthusiastically: + +"Ah, you shall believe to-night in those wonderful things!" + +Adele Tace leaned back. She drew a breath. It was a breath of relief. + +"Then we will buy the cord in Aix," she said. + +"We have some, no doubt, in the house," said Mme. Dauvray. + +Adele shook her head and smiled. + +"My dear madame, you are dealing with a sceptic. I should not be +content." + +Celia shrugged her shoulders. + +"Let us satisfy Mme. Rossignol," she said. + +Celia, indeed, was not alarmed by this last precaution. For her it was +a test less difficult than the light-coloured rustling robe. She had +appeared upon so many platforms, had experienced too often the bungling +efforts of spectators called up from the audience, to be in any fear. +There were very few knots from which her small hands and supple fingers +had not learnt long since to extricate themselves. She was aware how +much in all these matters the personal equation counted. Men who might, +perhaps, have been able to tie knots from which she could not get free +were always too uncomfortable and self-conscious, or too afraid of +hurting her white arms and wrists, to do it. Women, on the other hand, +who had no compunctions of that kind, did not know how. + +It was now nearly eight o'clock; the rain still held off. + +"We must go," said Mme. Dauvray, who for the last half-hour had been +continually looking at her watch. + +They drove to the station and took the train. Once more the rain came +down, but it had stopped again before the train steamed into Aix at +nine o'clock. + +"We will take a cab," said Mme. Dauvray: "it will save time." + +"It will do us good to walk, madame," pleaded Adele. The train was +full. Adele passed quickly out from the lights of the station in the +throng of passengers and waited in the dark square for the others to +join her. "It is barely nine. A friend has promised to call at the +Villa Rose for me after eleven and drive me back in a motor-car to +Geneva, so we have plenty of time." + +They walked accordingly up the hill, Mme. Dauvray slowly, since she was +stout, and Celia keeping pace with her. Thus it seemed natural that +Adele Tace should walk ahead, though a passer-by would not have thought +she was of their company. At the corner of the Rue du Casino Adele +waited for them and said quickly: + +"Mademoiselle, you can get some cord, I think, at the shop there," and +she pointed to the shop of M. Corval. "Madame and I will go slowly on; +you, who are the youngest, will easily catch us up." Celia went into +the shop, bought the cord, and caught Mme. Dauvray up before she +reached the villa. + +"Where is Mme. Rossignol?" she asked. + +"She went on," said Camille Dauvray. "She walks faster than I do." + +They passed no one whom they knew, although they did pass one who +recognised them, as Perrichet had discovered. They came upon Adele, +waiting for them at the corner of the road, where it turns down toward +the villa. + +"It is near here--the Villa Rose?" she asked. + +"A minute more and we are there." + +They turned in at the drive, closed the gate behind them, and walked up +to the villa. + +The windows and the glass doors were closed, the latticed shutters +fastened. A light burned in the hall. + +"Helene is expecting us," said Mme. Dauvray, for as they approached she +saw the front door open to admit them, and Helene Vauquier in the +doorway. The three women went straight into the little salon, which was +ready with the lights up and a small fire burning. Celia noticed the +fire with a trifle of dismay. She moved a fire-screen in front of it. + +"I can understand why you do that, mademoiselle," said Adele Rossignol, +with a satirical smile. But Mme. Dauvray came to the girl's help. + +"She is right, Adele. Light is the great barrier between us and the +spirit-world," she said solemnly. + +Meanwhile, in the hall Helene Vauquier locked and bolted the front +door. Then she stood motionless, with a smile upon her face and a heart +beating high. All through that afternoon she had been afraid that some +accident at the last moment would spoil her plan, that Adele Tace had +not learned her lesson, that Celie would take fright, that she would +not return. Now all those fears were over. She had her victims safe +within the villa. The charwoman had been sent home. She had them to +herself. She was still standing in the hall when Mme. Dauvray called +aloud impatiently: + +"Helene! Helene!" + +And when she entered the salon there was still, as Celia was able to +recall, some trace of her smile lingering upon her face. + +Adele Rossignol had removed her hat and was taking off her gloves. Mme. +Dauvray was speaking impatiently to Celia. + +"We will arrange the room, dear, while Helene helps you to dress. It +will be quite easy. We shall use the recess." + +And Celia, as she ran up the stairs, heard Mme. Dauvray discussing with +her maid what frock she should wear. She was hot, and she took a +hurried bath. When she came from her bathroom she saw with dismay that +it was her new pale-green evening gown which had been laid out. It was +the last which she would have chosen. But she dared not refuse it. She +must still any suspicion. She must succeed. She gave herself into +Helene's hands. Celia remembered afterwards one or two points which +passed barely heeded at the time. Once while Helene was dressing her +hair she looked up at the maid in the mirror and noticed a strange and +rather horrible grin upon her face, which disappeared the moment their +eyes met. Then again, Helene was extraordinarily slow and +extraordinarily fastidious that evening. Nothing satisfied her, neither +the hang of the girl's skirt, the folds of her sash, nor the +arrangement of her hair. + +"Come, Helene, be quick," said Celia. "You know how madame hates to be +kept waiting at these times. You might be dressing me to go to meet my +lover," she added, with a blush and a smile at her own pretty +reflection in the glass; and a queer look came upon Helene Vauquier's +face. For it was at creating just this very impression that she aimed. + +"Very well, mademoiselle," said Helene. And even as she spoke Mme. +Dauvray's voice rang shrill and irritable up the stairs. + +"Celie! Celie!" + +"Quick, Helene," said Celia. For she herself was now anxious to have +the seance over and done with. + +But Helene did not hurry. The more irritable Mme. Dauvray became, the +more impatient with Mlle. Celie, the less would Mlle. Celie dare to +refuse the tests Adele wished to impose upon her. But that was not all. +She took a subtle and ironic pleasure to-night in decking out her +victim's natural loveliness. Her face, her slender throat, her white +shoulders, should look their prettiest, her grace of limb and figure +should be more alluring than ever before. The same words, indeed, were +running through both women's minds. + +"For the last time," said Celia to herself, thinking of these horrible +seances, of which to-night should see the end. + +"For the last time," said Helene Vauquier too. For the last time she +laced the girl's dress. There would be no more patient and careful +service for Mlle. Celie after to-night. But she should have it and to +spare to-night. She should be conscious that her beauty had never made +so strong an appeal; that she was never so fit for life as at the +moment when the end had come. One thing Helene regretted. She would +have liked Celia--Celia, smiling at herself in the glass--to know +suddenly what was in store for her! She saw in imagination the colour +die from the cheeks, the eyes stare wide with terror. + +"Celie! Celie!" + +Again the impatient voice rang up the stairs, as Helene pinned the +girl's hat upon her fair head. Celie sprang up, took a quick step or +two towards the door, and stopped in dismay. The swish of her long +satin train must betray her. She caught up the dress and tried again. +Even so, the rustle of it was heard. + +"I shall have to be very careful. You will help me, Helene?" + +"Of course, mademoiselle. I will sit underneath the switch of the light +in the salon. If madame, your visitor, makes the experiment too +difficult, I will find a way to help you," said Helene Vauquier, and as +she spoke she handed Celia a long pair of white gloves. + +"I shall not want them," said Celia. + +"Mme. Dauvray ordered me to give them to you," replied Helene. + +Celia took them hurriedly, picked up a white scarf of tulle, and ran +down the stairs. Helene Vauquier listened at the door and heard +madame's voice in feverish anger. + +"We have been waiting for you, Celie. You have been an age." + +Helene Vauquier laughed softly to herself, took out Celia's white frock +from the wardrobe, turned off the lights, and followed her down to the +hall. She placed the cloak just outside the door of the salon. Then she +carefully turned out all the lights in the hall and in the kitchen and +went into the salon. The rest of the house was in darkness. This room +was brightly lit; and it had been made ready. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE SEANCE + + +Helene Vauquier locked the door of the salon upon the inside and placed +the key upon the mantel-shelf, as she had always done whenever a seance +had been held. The curtains had been loosened at the sides of the +arched recess in front of the glass doors, ready to be drawn across. +Inside the recess, against one of the pillars which supported the arch, +a high stool without a back, taken from the hall, had been placed, and +the back legs of the stool had been lashed with cord firmly to the +pillar, so that it could not be moved. The round table had been put in +position, with three chairs about it. Mme. Dauvray waited impatiently. +Celia stood apparently unconcerned, apparently lost to all that was +going on. Her eyes saw no one. Adele looked up at Celia, and laughed +maliciously. + +"Mademoiselle, I see, is in the very mood to produce the most wonderful +phenomena. But it will be better, I think, madame," she said, turning +to Mme. Dauvray, "that Mlle. Celie should put on those gloves which I +see she has thrown on to a chair. It will be a little more difficult +for mademoiselle to loosen these cords, should she wish to do so." + +The argument silenced Celia. If she refused this condition now she +would excite Mme. Dauvray to a terrible suspicion. She drew on her +gloves ruefully and slowly, smoothed them over her elbows, and buttoned +them. To free her hands with her fingers and wrists already hampered in +gloves would not be so easy a task. But there was no escape. Adele +Rossignol was watching her with a satiric smile. Mme. Dauvray was +urging her to be quick. Obeying a second order the girl raised her +skirt and extended a slim foot in a pale-green silk stocking and a +satin slipper to match. Adele was content. Celia was wearing the shoes +she was meant to wear. They were made upon the very same last as those +which Celia had just kicked off upstairs. An almost imperceptible nod +from Helene Vauquier, moreover, assured her. + +She took up a length of the thin cord. + +"Now, how are we to begin?" she said awkwardly. "I think I will ask +you, mademoiselle, to put your hands behind you." + +Celia turned her back and crossed her wrists. She stood in her satin +frock, with her white arms and shoulders bare, her slender throat +supporting her small head with its heavy curls, her big hat--a picture +of young grace and beauty. She would have had an easy task that night +had there been men instead of women to put her to the test. But the +women were intent upon their own ends: Mme. Dauvray eager for her +seance, Adele Tace and Helene Vauquier for the climax of their plot. + +Celia clenched her hands to make the muscles of her wrists rigid to +resist the pressure of the cord. Adele quietly unclasped them and +placed them palm to palm. And at once Celia became uneasy. It was not +merely the action, significant though it was of Adele's alertness to +thwart her, which troubled Celia. But she was extraordinarily receptive +of impressions, extraordinarily quick to feel, from a touch, some dim +sensation of the thought of the one who touched her. So now the touch +of Adele's swift, strong, nervous hands caused her a queer, vague shock +of discomfort. It was no more than that at the moment, but it was quite +definite as that. + +"Keep your hands so, please, mademoiselle," said Adele; "your fingers +loose." + +And the next moment Celia winced and had to bite her lip to prevent a +cry. The thin cord was wound twice about her wrists, drawn cruelly +tight and then cunningly knotted. For one second Celia was thankful for +her gloves; the next, more than ever she regretted that she wore them. +It would have been difficult enough for her to free her hands now, even +without them. And upon that a worse thing befell her. + +"I beg mademoiselle's pardon if I hurt her," said Adele. + +And she tied the girl's thumbs and little fingers. To slacken the knots +she must have the use of her fingers, even though her gloves made them +fumble. Now she had lost the use of them altogether. She began to feel +that she was in master-hands. She was sure of it the next instant. For +Adele stood up, and, passing a cord round the upper part of her arms, +drew her elbows back. To bring any strength to help her in wriggling +her hands free she must be able to raise her elbows. With them trussed +in the small of her back she was robbed entirely of her strength. And +all the time her strange uneasiness grew. She made a movement of +revolt, and at once the cord was loosened. + +"Mlle. Celie objects to my tests," said Adele, with a laugh, to Mme. +Dauvray. "And I do not wonder." + +Celia saw upon the old woman's foolish and excited face a look of +veritable consternation. + +"Are you afraid, Celie?" she asked. + +There was anger, there was menace in the voice, but above all these +there was fear--fear that her illusions were to tumble about her. Celia +heard that note and was quelled by it. This folly of belief, these +seances, were the one touch of colour in Mme. Dauvray's life. And it +was just that instinctive need of colour which had made her so easy to +delude. How strong the need is, how seductive the proposal to supply +it, Celia knew well. She knew it from the experience of her life when +the Great Fortinbras was at the climax of his fortunes. She had +travelled much amongst monotonous, drab towns without character or +amusements. She had kept her eyes open. She had seen that it was from +the denizens of the dull streets in these towns that the quack +religions won their recruits. Mme. Dauvray's life had been a +featureless sort of affair until these experiments had come to colour +it. Madame Dauvray must at any rate preserve the memory of that colour. + +"No," she said boldly; "I am not afraid," and after that she moved no +more. + +Her elbows were drawn firmly back and tightly bound. She was sure she +could not free them. She glanced in despair at Helene Vauquier, and +then some glimmer of hope sprang up. For Helene Vauquier gave her a +look, a smile of reassurance. It was as if she said, "I will come to +your help." Then, to make security still more sure, Adele turned the +girl about as unceremoniously as if she had been a doll, and, passing a +cord at the back of her arms, drew both ends round in front and knotted +them at her waist. + +"Now, Celie," said Adele, with a vibration in her voice which Celia had +not remarked before. + +Excitement was gaining upon her, as upon Mme. Dauvray. Her face was +flushed and shiny, her manner peremptory and quick. Celia's uneasiness +grew into fear. She could have used the words which Hanaud spoke the +next day in that very room--"There is something here which I do not +understand." The touch of Adele Tace's hands communicated something to +her--something which filled her with a vague alarm. She could not have +formulated it if she would; she dared not if she could. She had but to +stand and submit. + +"Now," said Adele. + +She took the girl by the shoulders and set her in a clear space in the +middle of the room, her back to the recess, her face to the mirror, +where all could see her. + +"Now, Celie"--she had dropped the "Mlle." and the ironic suavity of her +manner--"try to free yourself." + +For a moment the girl's shoulders worked, her hands fluttered. But they +remained helplessly bound. + +"Ah, you will be content, Adele, to-night," cried Mme. Dauvray eagerly. + +But even in the midst of her eagerness--so thoroughly had she been +prepared--there lingered a flavour of doubt, of suspicion. In Celia's +mind there was still the one desperate resolve. + +"I must succeed to-night," she said to herself--"I must!" + +Adele Rossignol kneeled on the floor behind her. She gathered in +carefully the girl's frock. Then she picked up the long train, wound it +tightly round her limbs, pinioning and swathing them in the folds of +satin, and secured the folds with a cord about the knees. + +She stood up again. + +"Can you walk, Celie?" she asked. "Try!" + +With Helene Vauquier to support her if she fell, Celia took a tiny +shuffling step forward, feeling supremely ridiculous. No one, however, +of her audience was inclined to laugh. To Mme. Dauvray the whole +business was as serious as the most solemn ceremonial. Adele was intent +upon making her knots secure. Helene Vauquier was the well-bred servant +who knew her place. It was not for her to laugh at her young mistress, +in however ludicrous a situation she might be. + +"Now," said Adele, "we will tie mademoiselle's ankles, and then we +shall be ready for Mme. de Montespan." + +The raillery in her voice had a note of savagery in it now. Celia's +vague terror grew. She had a feeling that a beast was waking in the +woman, and with it came a growing premonition of failure. Vainly she +cried to herself, "I must not fail to-night." But she felt +instinctively that there was a stronger personality than her own in +that room, taming her, condemning her to failure, influencing the +others. + +She was placed in a chair. Adele passed a cord round her ankles, and +the mere touch of it quickened Celia to a spasm of revolt. Her last +little remnant of liberty was being taken from her. She raised herself, +or rather would have raised herself. But Helene with gentle hands held +her in the chair, and whispered under her breath: + +"Have no fear! Madame is watching." + +Adele looked fiercely up into the girl's face. + +"Keep still, HEIN, LA PETITE!" she cried. And the epithet--"little +one"--was a light to Celia. Till now, upon these occasions, with her +black ceremonial dress, her air of aloofness, her vague eyes, and the +dignity of her carriage, she had already produced some part of their +effect before the seance had begun. She had been wont to sail into the +room, distant, mystical. She had her audience already expectant of +mysteries, prepared for marvels. Her work was already half done. But +now of all that help she was deprived. She was no longer a person +aloof, a prophetess, a seer of visions; she was simply a +smartly-dressed girl of to-day, trussed up in a ridiculous and painful +position--that was all. The dignity was gone. And the more she realised +that, the more she was hindered from influencing her audience, the less +able she was to concentrate her mind upon them, to will them to favour +her. Mme. Dauvray's suspicions, she was sure, were still awake. She +could not quell them. There was a stronger personality than hers at +work in the room. The cord bit through her thin stockings into her +ankles. She dared not complain. It was savagely tied. She made no +remonstrance. And then Helene Vauquier raised her up from the chair and +lifted her easily off the ground. For a moment she held her so. If +Celia had felt ridiculous before, she knew that she was ten times more +so now. She could see herself as she hung in Helene Vauquier's arms, +with her delicate frock ludicrously swathed and swaddled about her +legs. But, again, of those who watched her no one smiled. + +"We have had no such tests as these," Mme. Dauvray explained, half in +fear, half in hope. + +Adele Rossignol looked the girl over and nodded her head with +satisfaction. She had no animosity towards Celia; she had really no +feeling of any kind for her or against her. Fortunately she was unaware +at this time that Harry Wethermill had been paying his court to her or +it would have gone worse with Mlle. Celie before the night was out. +Mlle. Celie was just a pawn in a very dangerous game which she happened +to be playing, and she had succeeded in engineering her pawn into the +desired condition of helplessness. She was content. + +"Mademoiselle," she said, with a smile, "you wish me to believe. You +have now your opportunity." + +Opportunity! And she was helpless. She knew very well that she could +never free herself from these cords without Helene's help. She would +fail, miserably and shamefully fail. + +"It was madame who wished you to believe," she stammered. + +And Adele Rossignol laughed suddenly--a short, loud, harsh laugh, which +jarred upon the quiet of the room. It turned Celia's vague alarm into a +definite terror. Some magnetic current brought her grave messages of +fear. The air about her seemed to tingle with strange menaces. She +looked at Adele. Did they emanate from her? And her terror answered her +"Yes." She made her mistake in that. The strong personality in the room +was not Adele Rossignol, but Helene Vauquier, who held her like a child +in her arms. But she was definitely aware of danger, and too late aware +of it. She struggled vainly. From her head to her feet she was +powerless. She cried out hysterically to her patron: + +"Madame! Madame! There is something--a presence here--some one who +means harm! I know it!" + +And upon the old woman's face there came a look, not of alarm, but of +extraordinary relief. The genuine, heartfelt cry restored her +confidence in Celia. + +"Some one--who means harm!" she whispered, trembling with excitement. + +"Ah, mademoiselle is already under control," said Helene, using the +jargon which she had learnt from Celia's lips. + +Adele Rossignol grinned. + +"Yes, LA PETITE is under control," she repeated, with a sneer; and all +the elegance of her velvet gown was unable to hide her any longer from +Celia's knowledge. Her grin had betrayed her. She was of the dregs. But +Helene Vauquier whispered: + +"Keep still, mademoiselle. I shall help you." + +Vauquier carried the girl into the recess and placed her upon the +stool. With a long cord Adele bound her by the arms and the waist to +the pillar, and her ankles she fastened to the rung of the stool, so +that they could not touch the ground. + +"Thus we shall be sure that when we hear rapping it will be the +spirits, and not the heels, which rap," she said. "Yes, I am contented +now." And she added, with a smile, "Celie may even have her scarf," +and, picking up a white scarf of tulle which Celia had brought down +with her, she placed it carelessly round her shoulders. + +"Wait!" Helene Vauquier whispered in Celia's ear. + +To the cord about Celia's waist Adele was fastening a longer line. + +"I shall keep my foot on the other end of this," she said, "when the +lights are out, and I shall know then if our little one frees herself." + +The three women went out of the recess. And the next moment the heavy +silk curtains swung across the opening, leaving Celia in darkness. +Quickly and noiselessly the poor girl began to twist and work her +hands. But she only bruised her wrists. This was to be the last of the +seances. But it must succeed! So much of Mme. Dauvray's happiness, so +much of her own, hung upon its success. Let her fail to-night, she +would be surely turned from the door. The story of her trickery and her +exposure would run through Aix. And she had not told Harry! It would +reach his ears from others. He would never forgive her. To face the +old, difficult life of poverty and perhaps starvation again, and again +alone, would be hard enough; but to face it with Harry Wethermill's +contempt added to its burdens--as the poor girl believed she surely +would have to do--no, that would be impossible! Not this time would she +turn away from the Seine, because it was so terrible and cold. If she +had had the courage to tell him yesterday, he would have forgiven, +surely he would! The tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her +cheeks. What would become of her now? She was in pain besides. The +cords about her arms and ankles tortured her. And she feared--yes, +desperately she feared the effect of the exposure upon Mme. Dauvray. +She had been treated as a daughter; now she was in return to rob Mme. +Dauvray of the belief which had become the passion of her life. + +"Let us take our seats at the table," she heard Mme. Dauvray say. +"Helene, you are by the switch of the electric light. Will you turn it +off?" And upon that Helene whispered, yet so that the whisper reached +to Celia and awakened hope: + +"Wait! I will see what she is doing." + +The curtains opened, and Helene Vauquier slipped to the girl's side. + +Celia checked her tears. She smiled imploringly, gratefully. + +"What shall I do?" asked Helene, in a voice so low that the movement of +her mouth rather than the words made the question clear. + +Celia raised her head to answer. And then a thing incomprehensible to +her happened. As she opened her lips Helene Vauquier swiftly forced a +handkerchief in between the girl's teeth, and lifting the scarf from +her shoulders wound it tightly twice across her mouth, binding her +lips, and made it fast under the brim of her hat behind her head. Celia +tried to scream; she could not utter a sound. She stared at Helene with +incredulous, horror-stricken eyes. Helene nodded at her with a cruel +grin of satisfaction, and Celia realised, though she did not +understand, something of the rancour and the hatred which seethed +against her in the heart of the woman whom she had supplanted. Helene +Vauquier meant to expose her to-night; Celia had not a doubt of it. +That was her explanation of Helene Vauquier's treachery; and believing +that error, she believed yet another--that she had reached the terrible +climax of her troubles. She was only at the beginning of them. + +"Helene!" cried Mme. Dauvray sharply. "What are you doing?" + +The maid instantly slid back into the room. + +"Mademoiselle has not moved," she said. + +Celia heard the women settle in their chairs about the table. + +"Is madame ready?" asked Helene; and then there was the sound of the +snap of a switch. In the salon darkness had come. + +If only she had not been wearing her gloves, Celia thought, she might +possibly have just been able to free her fingers and her supple hands +from their bonds. But as it was she was helpless. She could only sit +and wait until the audience in the salon grew tired of waiting and came +to her. She closed her eyes, pondering if by any chance she could +excuse her failure. But her heart sank within her as she thought of +Mme. Rossignol's raillery. No, it was all over for her. ... + +She opened her eyes, and she wondered. It seemed to her that there was +more light in the recess than there had been when she closed them. Very +likely her eyes were growing used to the darkness. Yet--yet--she ought +not to be able to distinguish quite so clearly the white pillar +opposite to her. She looked towards the glass doors and understood. The +wooden shutters outside the doors were not quite closed. They had been +carelessly left unbolted. A chink from lintel to floor let in a grey +thread of light. Celia heard the women whispering in the salon, and +turned her head to catch the words. + +"Do you hear any sound?" + +"No." + +"Was that a hand which touched me?" + +"No." + +"We must wait." + +And so silence came again, and suddenly there was quite a rush of light +into the recess. Celia was startled. She turned her head back again +towards the window. The wooden door had swung a little more open. There +was a wider chink to let the twilight of that starlit darkness through. +And as she looked, the chink slowly broadened and broadened, the door +swung slowly back on hinges which were strangely silent. Celia stared +at the widening panel of grey light with a vague terror. It was strange +that she could hear no whisper of wind in the garden. Why, oh, why was +that latticed door opening so noiselessly? Almost she believed that the +spirits after all... And suddenly the recess darkened again, and Celia +sat with her heart leaping and shivering in her breast. There was +something black against the glass doors--a man. He had appeared as +silently, as suddenly, as any apparition. He stood blocking out the +light, pressing his face against the glass, peering into the room. For +a moment the shock of horror stunned her. Then she tore frantically at +the cords. All thought of failure, of exposure, of dismissal had fled +from her. The three poor women--that was her thought--were sitting +unwarned, unsuspecting, defenceless in the pitch-blackness of the +salon. A few feet away a man, a thief, was peering in. They were +waiting for strange things to happen in the darkness. Strange and +terrible things would happen unless she could free herself, unless she +could warn them. And she could not. Her struggles were mere efforts to +struggle, futile, a shiver from head to foot, and noiseless as a +shiver. Adele Rossignol had done her work well and thoroughly. Celia's +arms, her waist, her ankles were pinioned; only the bandage over her +mouth seemed to be loosening. Then upon horror, horror was added. The +man touched the glass doors, and they swung silently inwards. They, +too, had been carelessly left unbolted. The man stepped without a sound +over the sill into the room. And, as he stepped, fear for herself drove +out for the moment from Celia's thoughts fear for the three women in +the black room. If only he did not see her! She pressed herself against +the pillar. He might overlook her, perhaps! His eyes would not be so +accustomed to the darkness of the recess as hers. He might pass her +unnoticed--if only he did not touch some fold of her dress. + +And then, in the midst of her terror, she experienced so great a +revulsion from despair to joy that a faintness came upon her, and she +almost swooned. She saw who the intruder was. For when he stepped into +the recess he turned towards her, and the dim light struck upon him and +showed her the contour of his face. It was her lover, Harry Wethermill. +Why he had come at this hour, and in this strange way, she did not +consider. Now she must attract his eyes, now her fear was lest he +should not see her. + +But he came at once straight towards her. He stood in front of her, +looking into her eyes. But he uttered no cry. He made no movement of +surprise. Celia did not understand it. His face was in the shadow now +and she could not see it. Of course, he was stunned, amazed. +But--but--he stood almost as if he had expected to find her there and +just in that helpless attitude. It was absurd, of course, but he seemed +to look upon her helplessness as nothing out of the ordinary way. And +he raised no hand to set her free. A chill struck through her. But the +next moment he did raise his hand and the blood flowed again, at her +heart. Of course, she was in the darkness. He had not seen her plight. +Even now he was only beginning to be aware of it. For his hand touched +the bandage over her mouth--tentatively. He felt for the knot under the +broad brim of her hat at the back of her head. He found it. In a moment +she would be free. She kept her head quite still, and then--why was he +so long? she asked herself. Oh, it was not possible! But her heart +seemed to stop, and she knew that it was not only possible--it was +true: he was tightening the scarf, not loosening it. The folds bound +her lips more surely. She felt the ends drawn close at the back of her +head. In a frenzy she tried to shake her head free. But he held her +face firmly and finished his work. He was wearing gloves, she noticed +with horror, just as thieves do. Then his hands slid down her trembling +arms and tested the cord about her wrists. There was something horribly +deliberate about his movements. Celia, even at that moment, even with +him, had the sensation which had possessed her in the salon. It was the +personal equation on which she was used to rely. But neither Adele nor +this--this STRANGER was considering her as even a human being. She was +a pawn in their game, and they used her, careless of her terror, her +beauty, her pain. Then he freed from her waist the long cord which ran +beneath the curtain to Adele Rossignol's foot. Celia's first thought +was one of relief. He would jerk the cord unwittingly. They would come +into the recess and see him. And then the real truth flashed in upon +her blindingly. He had jerked the cord, but he had jerked it +deliberately. He was already winding it up in a coil as it slid +noiselessly across the polished floor beneath the curtains towards him. +He had given a signal to Adele Rossignol. All that woman's scepticism +and precaution against trickery had been a mere blind, under cover of +which she had been able to pack the girl away securely without arousing +her suspicions. Helene Vauquier was in the plot, too. The scarf at +Celia's mouth was proof of that. As if to add proof to proof, she heard +Adele Rossignol speak in answer to the signal. + +"Are we all ready? Have you got Mme. Dauvray's left hand, Helene?" + +"Yes, madame," answered the maid. + +"And I have her right hand. Now give me yours, and thus we are in a +circle about the table." + +Celia, in her mind, could see them sitting about the round table in the +darkness, Mme. Dauvray between the two women, securely held by them. +And she herself could not utter a cry--could not move a muscle to help +her. + +Wethermill crept back on noiseless feet to the window, closed the +wooden doors, and slid the bolts into their sockets. Yes, Helene +Vauquier was in the plot. The bolts and the hinges would not have +worked so smoothly but for her. Darkness again filled the recess +instead of the grey twilight. But in a moment a faint breath of wind +played upon Celia's forehead, and she knew that the man had parted the +curtains and slipped into the room. Celia let her head fall towards her +shoulder. She was sick and faint with terror. Her lover was in this +plot--the lover in whom she had felt so much pride, for whose sake she +had taken herself so bitterly to task. He was the associate of Adele +Rossignol, of Helene Vauquier. He had used her, Celia, as an instrument +for his crime. All their hours together at the Villa des Fleurs--here +to-night was their culmination. The blood buzzed in her ears and +hammered in the veins of her temples. In front of her eyes the darkness +whirled, flecked with fire. She would have fallen, but she could not +fall. Then, in the silence, a tambourine jangled. There was to be a +seance to-night, then, and the seance had begun. In a dreadful suspense +she heard Mme. Dauvray speak. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +HELENE EXPLAINS + + +And what she heard made her blood run cold. + +Mme. Dauvray spoke in a hushed, awestruck voice. + +"There is a presence in the room." + +It was horrible to Celia that the poor woman was speaking the jargon +which she herself had taught to her. + +"I will speak to it," said Mme. Dauvray, and raising her voice a +little, she asked: "Who are you that come to us from the spirit-world?" + +No answer came, but all the while Celia knew that Wethermill was +stealing noiselessly across the floor towards that voice which spoke +this professional patter with so simple a solemnity. + +"Answer!" she said. And the next moment she uttered a little shrill +cry--a cry of enthusiasm. "Fingers touch my forehead--now they touch my +cheek--now they touch my throat!" + +And upon that the voice ceased. But a dry, choking sound was heard, and +a horrible scuffling and tapping of feet upon the polished floor, a +sound most dreadful. They were murdering her--murdering an old, kind +woman silently and methodically in the darkness. The girl strained and +twisted against the pillar furiously, like an animal in a trap. But the +coils of rope held her; the scarf suffocated her. The scuffling became +a spasmodic sound, with intervals between, and then ceased altogether. +A voice spoke--a man's voice--Wethermill's. But Celia would never have +recognised it--it had so shrill and fearful an intonation. + +"That's horrible," he said, and his voice suddenly rose to a scream. + +"Hush!" Helene Vauquier whispered sharply. "What's the matter?" + +"She fell against me--her whole weight. Oh!" + +"You are afraid of her!" + +"Yes, yes!" And in the darkness Wethermill's voice came querulously +between long breaths. "Yes, NOW I am afraid of her!" + +Helene Vauquier replied again contemptuously. She spoke aloud and quite +indifferently. Nothing of any importance whatever, one would have +gathered, had occurred. + +"I will turn on the light," she said. And through the chinks in the +curtain the bright light shone. Celia heard a loud rattle upon the +table, and then fainter sounds of the same kind. And as a kind of +horrible accompaniment there ran the laboured breathing of the man, +which broke now and then with a sobbing sound. They were stripping Mme. +Dauvray of her pearl necklace, her bracelets, and her rings. Celia had +a sudden importunate vision of the old woman's fat, podgy hands loaded +with brilliants. A jingle of keys followed. + +"That's all," Helene Vauquier said. She might have just turned out the +pocket of an old dress. + +There was the sound of something heavy and inert falling with a dull +crash upon the floor. A woman laughed, and again it was Helene Vauquier. + +"Which is the key of the safe?" asked Adele. + +And Helene Vauquier replied:-- + +"That one." + +Celia heard some one drop heavily into a chair. It was Wethermill, and +he buried his face in his hands. Helene went over to him and laid her +hand upon his shoulder and shook him. + +"Do you go and get her jewels out of the safe," she said, and she spoke +with a rough friendliness. + +"You promised you would blindfold the girl," he cried hoarsely. + +Helene Vauquier laughed. + +"Did I?" she said. "Well, what does it matter?" + +"There would have been no need to--" And his voice broke off shudderingly. + +"Wouldn't there? And what of us--Adele and me? She knows certainly that +we are here. Come, go and get the jewels. The key of the door's on the +mantelshelf. While you are away we two will arrange the pretty baby in +there." + +She pointed to the recess; her voice rang with contempt. Wethermill +staggered across the room like a drunkard, and picked up the key in +trembling fingers. Celia heard it turn in the lock, and the door bang. +Wethermill had gone upstairs. + +Celia leaned back, her heart fainting within her. Arrange! It was her +turn now. She was to be "arranged." She had no doubt what sinister +meaning that innocent word concealed. The dry, choking sound, the +horrid scuffling of feet upon the floor, were in her ears. And it had +taken so long--so terribly long! + +She heard the door open again and shut again. Then steps approached the +recess. The curtains were flung back, and the two women stood in front +of her--the tall Adele Rossignol with her red hair and her coarse good +looks and her sapphire dress, and the hard-featured, sallow maid. The +maid was carrying Celia's white coat. They did not mean to murder her, +then. They meant to take her away, and even then a spark of hope lit up +in the girl's bosom. For even with her illusions crushed she still +clung to life with all the passion of her young soul. + +The two women stood and looked at her; and then Adele Rossignol burst +out laughing. Vauquier approached the girl, and Celia had a moment's +hope that she meant to free her altogether, but she only loosed the +cords which fixed her to the pillar and the high stool. + +"Mademoiselle will pardon me for laughing," said Adele Rossignol +politely; "but it was mademoiselle who invited me to try my hand. And +really, for so smart a young lady, mademoiselle looks too ridiculous." + +She lifted the girl up and carried her back writhing and struggling +into the salon. The whole of the pretty room was within view, but in +the embrasure of a window something lay dreadfully still and quiet. +Celia held her head averted. But it was there, and, though it was +there, all the while the women joked and laughed, Adele Rossignol +feverishly, Helene Vauquier with a real glee most horrible to see. + +"I beg mademoiselle not to listen to what Adele is saying," exclaimed +Helene. And she began to ape in a mincing, extravagant fashion the +manner of a saleswoman in a shop. "Mademoiselle has never looked so +ravishing. This style is the last word of fashion. It is what there is +of most CHIC. Of course, mademoiselle understands that the costume is +not intended for playing the piano. Nor, indeed, for the ballroom. It +leaps to one's eyes that dancing would be difficult. Nor is it intended +for much conversation. It is a costume for a mood of quiet reflection. +But I assure mademoiselle that for pretty young ladies who are the +favourites of rich old women it is the style most recommended by the +criminal classes." + +All the woman's bitter rancour against Celia, hidden for months beneath +a mask of humility, burst out and ran riot now. She went to Adele +Rossignol's help, and they flung the girl face downwards upon the sofa. +Her face struck the cushion at one end, her feet the cushion at the +other. The breath was struck out of her body. She lay with her bosom +heaving. + +Helene Vauquier watched her for a moment with a grin, paying herself +now for her respectful speeches and attendance. + +"Yes, lie quietly and reflect, little fool!" she said savagely. "Were +you wise to come here and interfere with Helene Vauquier? Hadn't you +better have stayed and danced in your rags at Montmartre? Are the smart +frocks and the pretty hats and the good dinners worth the price? Ask +yourself these questions, my dainty little friend!" + +She drew up a chair to Celia's side, and sat down upon it comfortably. + +"I will tell you what we are going to do with you, Mlle. Celie. Adele +Rossignol and that kind gentleman, M. Wethermill, are going to take you +away with them. You will be glad to go, won't you, dearie? For you love +M. Wethermill, don't you? Oh, they won't keep you long enough for you +to get tired of them. Do not fear! But you will not come back, Mile. +Celie. No; you have seen too much to-night. And every one will think +that Mlle. Celie helped to murder and rob her benefactress. They are +certain to suspect some one, so why not you, pretty one?" + +Celia made no movement. She lay trying to believe that no crime had +been committed, that that lifeless body did not lie against the wall. +And then she heard in the room above a bed wheeled roughly from its +place. + +The two women heard it too, and looked at one another. + +"He should look in the safe," said Vauquier. "Go and see what he is +doing." + +And Adele Rossignol ran from the room. + +As soon as she was gone Vauquier followed to the door, listened, closed +it gently, and came back. She stooped down. + +"Mlle. Celie," she said, in a smooth, silky voice, which terrified the +girl more than her harsh tones, "there is just one little thing wrong +in your appearance, one tiny little piece of bad taste, if mademoiselle +will pardon a poor servant the expression. I did not mention it before +Adele Rossignol; she is so severe in her criticism, is she not? But +since we are alone, I will presume to point out to mademoiselle that +those diamond eardrops which I see peeping out under the scarf are a +little ostentatious in her present predicament. They are a provocation +to thieves. Will mademoiselle permit me to remove them?" + +She caught her by the neck and lifted her up. She pushed the lace scarf +up at the side of Celia's head. Celia began to struggle furiously, +convulsively. She kicked and writhed, and a little tearing sound was +heard. One of her shoe-buckles had caught in the thin silk covering of +the cushion and slit it. Helene Vauquier let her fall. She felt +composedly in her pocket, and drew from it an aluminium flask--the same +flask which Lemerre was afterward to snatch up in the bedroom in +Geneva. Celia stared at her in dread. She saw the flask flashing in the +light. She shrank from it. She wondered what new horror was to grip +her. Helene unscrewed the top and laughed pleasantly. + +"Mlle. Celie is under control," she said. "We shall have to teach her +that it is not polite in young ladies to kick." She pressed Celia down +with a hand upon her back, and her voice changed. "Lie still," she +commanded savagely. "Do you hear? Do you know what this is, Mlle. +Celie?" And she held the flask towards the girl's face. "This is +vitriol, my pretty one. Move, and I'll spoil these smooth white +shoulders for you. How would you like that?" + +Celia shuddered from head to foot, and, burying her face in the +cushion, lay trembling. She would have begged for death upon her knees +rather than suffer this horror. She felt Vauquier's fingers lingering +with a dreadful caressing touch upon her shoulders and about her +throat. She was within an ace of the torture, the disfigurement, and +she knew it. She could not pray for mercy. She could only lie quite +still, as she was bidden, trying to control the shuddering of her limbs +and body. + +"It would be a good lesson for Mlle. Celie," Helene continued slowly. +"I think that if Mlle. Celie will forgive the liberty I ought to +inflict it. One little tilt of the flask and the satin of these pretty +shoulders--" + +She broke off suddenly and listened. Some sound heard outside had given +Celia a respite, perhaps more than a respite. Helene set the flask down +upon the table. Her avarice had got the better of her hatred. She +roughly plucked the earrings out of the girl's ears. She hid them +quickly in the bosom of her dress with her eye upon the door. She did +not see a drop of blood gather on the lobe of Celia's ear and fall into +the cushion on which her face was pressed. She had hardly hidden them +away before the door opened and Adele Rossignol burst into the room. + +"What is the matter?" asked Vauquier. + +"The safe's empty. We have searched the room. We have found nothing," +she cried. + +"Everything is in the safe," Helene insisted. + +"No." + +The two women ran out of the room and up the stairs. Celia, lying on +the settee, heard all the quiet of the house change to noise and +confusion. It was as though a tornado raged in the room overhead. +Furniture was tossed about and over the room, feet stamped and ran, +locks were smashed in with heavy blows. For many minutes the storm +raged. Then it ceased, and she heard the accomplices clattering down +the stairs without a thought of the noise they made. They burst into +the room. Harry Wethermill was laughing hysterically, like a man off +his head. He had been wearing a long dark overcoat when he entered the +house; now he carried the coat over his arm. He was in a dinner-jacket, +and his black clothes were dusty and disordered. + +"It's all for nothing!" he screamed rather than cried. "Nothing but the +one necklace and a handful of rings!" + +In a frenzy he actually stooped over the dead woman and questioned her. + +"Tell us--where did you hide them?" he cried. + +"The girl will know," said Helene. + +Wethermill rose up and looked wildly at Celia. + +"Yes, yes," he said. + +He had no scruple, no pity any longer for the girl. There was no gain +from the crime unless she spoke. He would have placed his head in the +guillotine for nothing. He ran to the writing-table, tore off half a +sheet of paper, and brought it over with a pencil to the sofa. He gave +them to Vauquier to hold, and drawing out the sofa from the wall +slipped in behind. He lifted up Celia with Rossignol's help, and made +her sit in the middle of the sofa with her feet upon the ground. He +unbound her wrists and fingers, and Vauquier placed the writing-pad and +the paper on the girl's knees. Her arms were still pinioned above the +elbows; she could not raise her hands high enough to snatch the scarf +from her lips. But with the pad held up to her she could write. + +"Where did she keep her jewels! Quick! Take the pencil and write," said +Wethermill, holding her left wrist. + +Vauquier thrust the pencil into her right hand, and awkwardly and +slowly her gloved fingers moved across the page. + +"I do not know," she wrote; and, with an oath, Wethermill snatched the +paper up, tore it into pieces, and threw it down. + +"You have got to know," he said, his face purple with passion, and he +flung out his arm as though he would dash his fist into her face. But +as he stood with his arm poised there came a singular change upon his +face. + +"Did you hear anything?" he asked in a whisper. + +All listened, and all heard in the quiet of the night a faint click, +and after an interval they heard it again, and after another but +shorter interval yet once more. + +"That's the gate," said Wethermill in a whisper of fear, and a pulse of +hope stirred within Celia. + +He seized her wrists, crushed them together behind her, and swiftly +fastened them once more. Adele Rossignol sat down upon the floor, took +the girl's feet upon her lap, and quietly wrenched off her shoes. + +"The light," cried Wethermill in an agonised voice, and Helena Vauquier +flew across the room and turned it off. + +All three stood holding their breath, straining their ears in the dark +room. On the hard gravel of the drive outside footsteps became faintly +audible, and grew louder and came near. Adele whispered to Vauquier: + +"Has the girl a lover?" + +And Helene Vauquier, even at that moment, laughed quietly. + +All Celia's heart and youth rose in revolt against her extremity. If +she could only free her lips! The footsteps came round the corner of +the house, they sounded on the drive outside the very window of this +room. One cry, and she would be saved. She tossed back her head and +tried to force the handkerchief out from between her teeth. But +Wethermill's hand covered her mouth and held it closed. The footsteps +stopped, a light shone for a moment outside. The very handle of the +door was tried. Within a few yards help was there--help and life. Just +a frail latticed wooden door stood between her and them. She tried to +rise to her feet. Adele Rossignol held her legs firmly. She was +powerless. She sat with one desperate hope that, whoever it was who was +in the garden, he would break in. Were it even another murderer, he +might have more pity than the callous brutes who held her now; he could +have no less. But the footsteps moved away. It was the withdrawal of +all hope. Celia heard Wethermill behind her draw a long breath of +relief. That seemed to Celia almost the cruellest part of the whole +tragedy. They waited in the darkness until the faint click of the gate +was heard once more. Then the light was turned up again. + +"We must go," said Wethermill. All the three of them were shaken. They +stood looking at one another, white and trembling. They spoke in +whispers. To get out of the room, to have done with the business--that +had suddenly become their chief necessity. + +Adele picked up the necklace and the rings from the satin-wood table +and put them into a pocket-bag which was slung at her waist. + +"Hippolyte shall turn these things into money," she said. "He shall set +about it to-morrow. We shall have to keep the girl now--until she tells +us where the rest is hidden." + +"Yes, keep her," said Helene. "We will come over to Geneva in a few +days, as soon as we can. We will persuade her to tell." She glanced +darkly at the girl. Celia shivered. + +"Yes, that's it," said Wethermill. "But don't harm her. She will tell +of her own will. You will see. The delay won't hurt now. We can't come +back and search for a little while." + +He was speaking in a quick, agitated voice. And Adele agreed. The +desire to be gone had killed even their fury at the loss of their +prize. Some time they would come back, but they would not search +now--they were too unnerved. + +"Helene," said Wethermill, "get to bed. I'll come up with the +chloroform and put you to sleep." + +Helene Vauquier hurried upstairs. It was part of her plan that she +should be left alone in the villa chloroformed. Thus only could +suspicion be averted from herself. She did not shrink from the +completion of the plan now. She went, the strange woman, without a +tremor to her ordeal. Wethermill took the length of rope which had +fixed Celia to the pillar. + +"I'll follow," he said, and as he turned he stumbled over the body of +Mme. Dauvray. With a shrill cry he kicked it out of his way and crept +up the stairs. Adele Rossignol quickly set the room in order. She +removed the stool from its position in the recess, and carried it to +its place in the hall. She put Celia's shoes upon her feet, loosening +the cord from her ankles. Then she looked about the floor and picked up +here and there a scrap of cord. In the silence the clock upon the +mantelshelf chimed the quarter past eleven. She screwed the stopper on +the flask of vitriol very carefully, and put the flask away in her +pocket. She went into the kitchen and fetched the key of the garage. +She put her hat on her head. She even picked up and drew on her gloves, +afraid lest she should leave them behind; and then Wethermill came down +again. Adele looked at him inquiringly. + +"It is all done," he said, with a nod of the head. "I will bring the +car down to the door. Then I'll drive you to Geneva and come back with +the car here." + +He cautiously opened the latticed door of the window, listened for a +moment, and ran silently down the drive. Adele closed the door again, +but she did not bolt it. She came back into the room; she looked at +Celia, as she lay back upon the settee, with a long glance of +indecision. And then, to Celia's surprise--for she had given up all +hope--the indecision in her eyes became pity. She suddenly ran across +the room and knelt down before Celia. With quick and feverish hands she +untied the cord which fastened the train of her skirt about her knees. + +At first Celia shrank away, fearing some new cruelty. But Adele's voice +came to her ears, speaking--and speaking with remorse. + +"I can't endure it!" she whispered. "You are so young--too young to be +killed." + +The tears were rolling down Celia's cheeks. Her face was pitiful and +beseeching. + +"Don't look at me like that, for God's sake, child!" Adele went on, and +she chafed the girl's ankles for a moment. + +"Can you stand?" she asked. + +Celia nodded her head gratefully. After all, then, she was not to die. +It seemed to her hardly possible. But before she could rise a subdued +whirr of machinery penetrated into the room, and the motor-car came +slowly to the front of the villa. + +"Keep still!" said Adele hurriedly, and she placed herself in front of +Celia. + +Wethermill opened the wooden door, while Celia's heart raced in her +bosom. + +"I will go down and open the gate," he whispered. "Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +Wethermill disappeared; and this time he left the door open. Adele +helped Celia to her feet. For a moment she tottered; then she stood +firm. + +"Now run!" whispered Adele. "Run, child, for your life!" + +Celia did not stop to think whither she should run, or how she should +escape from Wethermill's search. She could not ask that her lips and +her hands might be freed. She had but a few seconds. She had one +thought--to hide herself in the darkness of the garden. Celia fled +across the room, sprang wildly over the sill, ran, tripped over her +skirt, steadied herself, and was swung off the ground by the arms of +Harry Wethermill. + +"There we are," he said, with his shrill, wavering laugh. "I opened the +gate before." And suddenly Celia hung inert in his arms. + +The light went out in the salon. Adele Rossignol, carrying Celia's +cloak, stepped out at the side of the window. + +"She has fainted," said Wethermill. "Wipe the mould off her shoes and +off yours too--carefully. I don't want them to think this car has been +out of the garage at all." + +Adele stooped and obeyed. Wethermill opened the door of the car and +flung Celia into a seat. Adele followed and took her seat opposite the +girl. Wethermill stepped carefully again on to the grass, and with the +toe of his shoe scraped up and ploughed the impressions which he and +Adele Rossignol had made on the ground, leaving those which Celia had +made. He came back to the window. + +"She has left her footmarks clear enough," he whispered. "There will be +no doubt in the morning that she went of her own free will." + +Then he took the chauffeur's seat, and the car glided silently down the +drive and out by the gate. As soon as it was on the road it stopped. In +an instant Adele Rossignol's head was out of the window. + +"What is it?" she exclaimed in fear. + +Wethermill pointed to the roof. He had left the light burning in Helene +Vauquier's room. + +"We can't go back now," said Adele in a frantic whisper. "No; it is +over. I daren't go back." And Wethermill jammed down the lever. The car +sprang forward, and humming steadily over the white road devoured the +miles. But they had made their one mistake. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE GENEVA ROAD + + +The car had nearly reached Annecy before Celia woke to consciousness. +And even then she was dazed. She was only aware that she was in the +motor-car and travelling at a great speed. She lay back, drinking in +the fresh air. Then she moved, and with the movement came to her +recollection and the sense of pain. Her arms and wrists were still +bound behind her, and the cords hurt her like hot wires. Her mouth, +however, and her feet were free. She started forward, and Adele +Rossignol spoke sternly from the seat opposite. + +"Keep still. I am holding the flask in my hand. If you scream, if you +make a movement to escape, I shall fling the vitriol in your face," she +said. + +Celia shrank back, shivering. + +"I won't! I won't!" she whispered piteously. Her spirit was broken by +the horrors of the night's adventure. She lay back and cried quietly in +the darkness of the carriage. The car dashed through Annecy. It seemed +incredible to Celia that less than six hours ago she had been dining +with Mme. Dauvray and the woman opposite, who was now her jailer. Mme. +Dauvray lay dead in the little salon, and she herself--she dared not +think what lay in front of her. She was to be persuaded--that was the +word--to tell what she did not know. Meanwhile her name would be +execrated through Aix as the murderess of the woman who had saved her. +Then suddenly the car stopped. There were lights outside. Celia heard +voices. A man was speaking to Wethermill. She started and saw Adele +Tace's arm flash upwards. She sank back in terror; and the car rolled +on into the darkness. Adele Tace drew a breath of relief. The one point +of danger had been passed. They had crossed the Pont de la Caille, they +were in Switzerland. + +Some long while afterwards the car slackened its speed. By the side of +it Celia heard the sound of wheels and of the hooves of a horse. A +single-horsed closed landau had been caught up as it jogged along the +road. The motor-car stopped; close by the side of it the driver of the +landau reined in his horse. Wethermill jumped down from the chauffeur's +seat, opened the door of the landau, and then put his head in at the +window of the car. + +"Are you ready? Be quick!" + +Adele turned to Celia. + +"Not a word, remember!" + +Wethermill flung open the door of the car. Adele took the girl's feet +and drew them down to the step of the car. Then she pushed her out. +Wethermill caught her in his arms and carried her to the landau. Celia +dared not cry out. Her hands were helpless, her face at the mercy of +that grim flask. Just ahead of them the lights of Geneva were visible, +and from the lights a silver radiance overspread a patch of sky. +Wethermill placed her in the landau; Adele sprang in behind her and +closed the door. The transfer had taken no more than a few seconds. The +landau jogged into Geneva; the motor turned and sped back over the +fifty miles of empty road to Aix. + +As the motor-car rolled away, courage returned for a moment to Celia. +The man--the murderer--had gone. She was alone with Adele Rossignol in +a carriage moving no faster than an ordinary trot. Her ankles were +free, the gag had been taken from her lips. If only she could free her +hands and choose a moment when Adele was off her guard she might open +the door and spring out on to the road. She saw Adele draw down the +blinds of the carriage, and very carefully, very secretly, Celia began +to work her hands behind her. She was an adept; no movement was +visible, but, on the other hand, no success was obtained. The knots had +been too cunningly tied. And then Mme. Rossignol touched a button at +her side in the leather of the carriage. + +The touch turned on a tiny lamp in the roof of the carriage, and she +raised a warning hand to Celia. + +"Now keep very quiet." + +Right through the empty streets of Geneva the landau was quietly +driven. Adele had peeped from time to time under the blind. There were +few people in the streets. Once or twice a sergent-de-ville was seen +under the light of a lamp. Celia dared not cry out. Over against her, +persistently watching her, Adele Rossignol sat with the open flask +clenched in her hand, and from the vitriol Celia shrank with an +overwhelming terror. The carriage drove out from the town along the +western edge of the lake. + +"Now listen," said Adele. "As soon as the landau stops the door of the +house opposite to which it stops will open. I shall open the carriage +door myself and you will get out. You must stand close by the carriage +door until I have got out. I shall hold this flask ready in my hand. As +soon as I am out you will run across the pavement into the house. You +won't speak or scream." + +Adele Rossignol turned out the lamp and ten minutes later the carriage +passed down the little street and attracted Mme. Gobin's notice. Marthe +Gobin had lit no light in her room. Adele Rossignol peered out of the +carriage. She saw the houses in darkness. She could not see the +busybody's face watching the landau from a dark window. She cut the +cords which fastened the girl's hands. The carriage stopped. She opened +the door. Celia sprang out on to the pavement. She sprang so quickly +that Adele Rossignol caught and held the train of her dress. But it was +the fear of the vitriol which had made her spring so nimbly. It was +that, too, which made her run so lightly and quickly into the house. +The old woman who acted as servant, Jeanne Tace, received her. Celia +offered no resistance. The fear of vitriol had made her supple as a +glove. Jeanne hurried her down the stairs into the little parlour at +the back of the house, where supper was laid, and pushed her into a +chair. Celia let her arms fall forward on the table. She had no hope +now. She was friendless and alone in a den of murderers, who meant +first to torture, then to kill her. She would be held up to execration +as a murderess. No one would know how she had died or what she had +suffered. She was in pain, and her throat burned. She buried her face +in her arms and sobbed. All her body shook with her sobbing. Jeanne +Rossignol took no notice. She treated Celie just as the others had +done. Celia was LA PETITE, against whom she had no animosity, by whom +she was not to be touched to any tenderness. LA PETITE had +unconsciously played her useful part in their crime. But her use was +ended now, and they would deal with her accordingly. She removed the +girl's hat and cloak and tossed them aside. + +"Now stay quiet until we are ready for you," she said. And Celia, +lifting her head, said in a whisper: + +"Water!" + +The old woman poured some from a jug and held the glass to Celia's lips. + +"Thank you," whispered Celia gratefully, and Adele came into the room. +She told the story of the night to Jeanne, and afterwards to Hippolyte +when he joined them. + +"And nothing gained!" cried the older woman furiously. "And we have +hardly a five-franc piece in the house." + +"Yes, something," said Adele. "A necklace--a good one--some good rings, +and bracelets. And we shall find out where the rest is hid--from her." +And she nodded at Celia. + +The three people ate their supper, and, while they ate it, discussed +Celia's fate. She was lying with her head bowed upon her arms at the +same table, within a foot of them. But they made no more of her +presence than if she had been an old shoe. Only once did one of them +speak to her. + +"Stop your whimpering," said Hippolyte roughly. "We can hardly hear +ourselves talk." + +He was for finishing with the business altogether to-night. + +"It's a mistake," he said. "There's been a bungle, and the sooner we +are rid of it the better. There's a boat at the bottom of the garden." + +Celia listened and shuddered. He would have no more compunction over +drowning her than he would have had over drowning a blind kitten. + +"It's cursed luck," he said. "But we have got the necklace--that's +something. That's our share, do you see? The young spark can look for +the rest." + +But Helene Vauquier's wish prevailed. She was the leader. They would +keep the girl until she came to Geneva. + +They took her upstairs into the big bedroom overlooking the lake. Adele +opened the door of the closet, where a truckle-bed stood, and thrust +the girl in. + +"This is my room," she said warningly, pointing to the bedroom. "Take +care I hear no noise. You might shout yourself hoarse, my pretty one; +no one else would hear you. But I should, and afterwards--we should no +longer be able to call you 'my pretty one,' eh?" + +And with a horrible playfulness she pinched the girl's cheek. + +Then with old Jeanne's help she stripped Celia and told her to get into +bed. + +"I'll give her something to keep her quiet," said Adele, and she +fetched her morphia-needle and injected a dose into Celia's arm. + +Then they took her clothes away and left her in the darkness. She heard +the key turn in the lock, and a moment after the sound of the bedstead +being drawn across the doorway. But she heard no more, for almost +immediately she fell asleep. + +She was awakened some time the next day by the door opening. Old Jeanne +Tace brought her in a jug of water and a roll of bread, and locked her +up again. And a long time afterwards she brought her another supply. +Yet another day had gone, but in that dark cupboard Celia had no means +of judging time. In the afternoon the newspaper came out with the +announcement that Mme. Dauvray's jewellery had been discovered under +the boards. Hippolyte brought in the newspaper, and, cursing their +stupidity, they sat down to decide upon Celia's fate. That, however, +was soon arranged. They would dress her in everything which she wore +when she came, so that no trace of her might be discovered. They would +give her another dose of morphia, sew her up in a sack as soon as she +was unconscious, row her far out on to the lake, and sink her with a +weight attached. They dragged her out from the cupboard, always with +the threat of that bright aluminium flask before her eyes. She fell +upon her knees, imploring their pity with the tears running down her +cheeks; but they sewed the strip of sacking over her face so that she +should see nothing of their preparations. They flung her on the sofa, +secured her as Hanaud had found her, and, leaving her in the old +woman's charge, sent down Adele for her needle and Hippolyte to get +ready the boat. As Hippolyte opened the door he saw the launch of the +Chef de la Surete glide along the bank. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +HANAUD EXPLAINS + + +This is the story as Mr. Ricardo wrote it out from the statement of +Celia herself and the confession of Adele Rossignol. Obscurities which +had puzzled him were made clear. But he was still unaware how Hanaud +had worked out the solution. + +"You promised me that you would explain," he said, when they were both +together after the trial was over at Aix. The two men had just finished +luncheon at the Cercle and were sitting over their coffee. Hanaud +lighted a cigar. + +"There were difficulties, of course," he said; "the crime was so +carefully planned. The little details, such as the footprints, the +absence of any mud from the girl's shoes in the carriage of the +motor-car, the dinner at Annecy, the purchase of the cord, the want of +any sign of a struggle in the little salon, were all carefully thought +out. Had not one little accident happened, and one little mistake been +made in consequence, I doubt if we should have laid our hands upon one +of the gang. We might have suspected Wethermill; we should hardly have +secured him, and we should very likely never have known of the Tace +family. That mistake was, as you no doubt are fully aware--" + +"The failure of Wethermill to discover Mme. Dauvray's jewels," said +Ricardo at once. + +"No, my friend," answered Hanaud. "That made them keep Mlle. Celie +alive. It enabled us to save her when we had discovered the whereabouts +of the gang. It did not help us very much to lay our hands upon them. +No; the little accident which happened was the entrance of our friend +Perrichet into the garden while the murderers were still in the room. +Imagine that scene, M. Ricardo. The rage of the murderers at their +inability to discover the plunder for which they had risked their +necks, the old woman crumpled up on the floor against the wall, the +girl writing laboriously with fettered arms 'I do not know' under +threats of torture, and then in the stillness of the night the clear, +tiny click of the gate and the measured, relentless footsteps. No +wonder they were terrified in that dark room. What would be their one +thought? Why, to get away--to come back perhaps later, when Mlle. Celie +should have told them what, by the way, she did not know, but in any +case to get away now. So they made their little mistake, and in their +hurry they left the light burning in the room of Helene Vauquier, and +the murder was discovered seven hours too soon for them." + +"Seven hours!" said Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes. The household did not rise early. It was not until seven that the +charwoman came. It was she who was meant to discover the crime. By that +time the motor-car would have been back three hours ago in its garage. +Servettaz, the chauffeur, would have returned from Chambery some time +in the morning, he would have cleaned the car, he would have noticed +that there was very little petrol in the tank, as there had been when +he had left it on the day before. He would not have noticed that some +of his many tins which had been full yesterday were empty to-day. We +should not have discovered that about four in the morning the car was +close to the Villa Rose and that it had travelled, between midnight and +five in the morning, a hundred and fifty kilometres." + +"But you had already guessed 'Geneva,'" said Ricardo. "At luncheon, +before the news came that the car was found, you had guessed it." + +"It was a shot," said Hanaud. "The absence of the car helped me to make +it. It is a large city and not very far away, a likely place for people +with the police at their heels to run to earth in. But if the car had +been discovered in the garage I should not have made that shot. Even +then I had no particular conviction about Geneva. I really wished to +see how Wethermill would take it. He was wonderful." + +"He sprang up." + +"He betrayed nothing but surprise. You showed no less surprise than he +did, my good friend. What I was looking for was one glance of fear. I +did not get it." + +"Yet you suspected him--even then you spoke of brains and audacity. You +told him enough to hinder him from communicating with the red-haired +woman in Geneva. You isolated him. Yes, you suspected him." + +"Let us take the case from the beginning. When you first came to me, as +I told you, the Commissaire had already been with me. There was an +interesting piece of evidence already in his possession. Adolphe +Ruel--who saw Wethermill and Vauquier together close by the Casino and +overheard that cry of Wethermill's, 'It is true: I must have +money!'--had already been with his story to the Commissaire. I knew it +when Harry Wethermill came into the room to ask me to take up the case. +That was a bold stroke, my friend. The chances were a hundred to one +that I should not interrupt my holiday to take up a case because of +your little dinner-party in London. Indeed, I should not have +interrupted it had I not known Adolphe Ruel's story. As it was I could +not resist. Wethermill's very audacity charmed me. Oh yes, I felt that +I must pit myself against him. So few criminals have spirit, M. +Ricardo. It is deplorable how few. But Wethermill! See in what a fine +position he would have been if only I had refused. He himself had been +the first to call upon the first detective in France. And his argument! +He loved Mlle. Celie. Therefore she must be innocent! How he stuck to +it! People would have said, 'Love is blind,' and all the more they +would have suspected Mile. Celie. Yes, but they love the blind lover. +Therefore all the more would it have been impossible for them to +believe Harry Wethermill had any share in that grim crime." + +Mr. Ricardo drew his chair closer in to the table. + +"I will confess to you," he said, "that I thought Mlle. Celie was an +accomplice." + +"It is not surprising," said Hanaud. "Some one within the house was an +accomplice--we start with that fact. The house had not been broken +into. There was Mlle. Celie's record as Helene Vauquier gave it to us, +and a record obviously true. There was the fact that she had got rid of +Servettaz. There was the maid upstairs very ill from the chloroform. +What more likely than that Mlle. Celie had arranged a seance, and then +when the lights were out had admitted the murderer through that +convenient glass door?" + +"There were, besides, the definite imprints of her shoes," said Mr. +Ricardo. + +"Yes, but that is precisely where I began to feel sure that she was +innocent," replied Hanaud dryly. "All the other footmarks had been so +carefully scored and ploughed up that nothing could be made of them. +Yet those little ones remained so definite, so easily identified, and I +began to wonder why these, too, had not been cut up and stamped over. +The murderers had taken, you see, an excess of precaution to throw the +presumption of guilt upon Mlle. Celie rather than upon Vauquier. +However, there the footsteps were. Mlle. Celie had sprung from the room +as I described to Wethermill. But I was puzzled. Then in the room I +found the torn-up sheet of notepaper with the words, 'Je ne sais pas,' +in mademoiselle's handwriting. The words might have been +spirit-writing, they might have meant anything. I put them away in my +mind. But in the room the settee puzzled me. And again I was +troubled--greatly troubled." + +"Yes, I saw that." + +"And not you alone," said Hanaud, with a smile. "Do you remember that +loud cry Wethermill gave when we returned to the room and once more I +stood before the settee? Oh, he turned it off very well. I had said +that our criminals in France were not very gentle with their victims, +and he pretended that it was in fear of what Mlle. Celie might be +suffering which had torn that cry from his heart. But it was not so. He +was afraid--deadly afraid--not for Mlle. Celie, but for himself. He was +afraid that I had understood what these cushions had to tell me." + +"What did they tell you?" asked Ricardo. + +"You know now," said Hanaud. "They were two cushions, both indented, +and indented in different ways. The one at the head was irregularly +indented--something shaped had pressed upon it. It might have been a +face--it might not; and there was a little brown stain which was fresh +and which was blood. The second cushion had two separate impressions, +and between them the cushion was forced up in a thin ridge; and these +impressions were more definite. I measured the distance between the two +cushions, and I found this: that supposing--and it was a large +supposition--the cushions had not been moved since those impressions +were made, a girl of Mlle. Celie's height lying stretched out upon the +sofa would have her face pressing down upon one cushion and her feet +and insteps upon the other. Now, the impressions upon the second +cushion and the thin ridge between them were just the impressions which +might have been made by a pair of shoes held close together. But that +would not be a natural attitude for any one, and the mark upon the head +cushion was very deep. Supposing that my conjectures were true, then a +woman would only lie like that because she was helpless, because she +had been flung there, because she could not lift herself--because, in a +word, her hands were tied behind her back and her feet fastened +together. Well, then, follow this train of reasoning, my friend! +Suppose my conjectures--and we had nothing but conjectures to build +upon--were true, the woman flung upon the sofa could not be Helene +Vauquier, for she would have said so; she could have had no reason for +concealment. But it must be Mlle. Celie. There was the slit in the one +cushion and the stain on the other which, of course, I had not +accounted for. There was still, too, the puzzle of the footsteps +outside the glass doors. If Mlle. Celie had been bound upon the sofa, +how came she to run with her limbs free from the house? There was a +question--a question not easy to answer." + +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes; but there was also another question. Suppose that Mlle. Celie +was, after all, the victim, not the accomplice; suppose she had been +flung tied upon the sofa; suppose that somehow the imprint of her shoes +upon the ground had been made, and that she had afterwards been carried +away, so that the maid might be cleared of all complicity--in that case +it became intelligible why the other footprints were scored out and +hers left. The presumption of guilt would fall upon her. There would be +proof that she ran hurriedly from the room and sprang into a motor-car +of her own free will. But, again, if that theory were true, then Helene +Vauquier was the accomplice and not Mlle. Celie." + +"I follow that." + +"Then I found an interesting piece of evidence with regard to the +strange woman who came: I picked up a long red hair--a very important +piece of evidence about which I thought it best to say nothing at all. +It was not Mlle. Celie's hair, which is fair; nor Vauquier's, which is +black; nor Mme. Dauvray's, which is dyed brown; nor the charwoman's, +which is grey. It was, therefore, the visitor's. Well, we went upstairs +to Mile. Celie's room." + +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo eagerly. "We are coming to the pot of cream." + +"In that room we learnt that Helene Vauquier, at her own request, had +already paid it a visit. It is true the Commissaire said that he had +kept his eye on her the whole time. But none the less from the window +he saw me coming down the road, and that he could not have done, as I +made sure, unless he had turned his back upon Vauquier and leaned out +of the window. Now at the time I had an open mind about Vauquier. On +the whole I was inclined to think she had no share in the affair. But +either she or Mlle. Celie had, and perhaps both. But one of them--yes. +That was sure. Therefore I asked what drawers she touched after the +Commissaire had leaned out of the window. For if she had any motive in +wishing to visit the room she would have satisfied it when the +Commissaire's back was turned. He pointed to a drawer, and I took out a +dress and shook it, thinking that she may have wished to hide +something. But nothing fell out. On the other hand, however, I saw some +quite fresh grease-marks, made by fingers, and the marks were wet. I +began to ask myself how it was that Helene Vauquier, who had just been +helped to dress by the nurse, had grease upon her fingers. Then I +looked at a drawer which she had examined first of all. There were no +grease-marks on the clothes she had turned over before the Commissaire +leaned out of the window. Therefore it followed that during the few +seconds when he was watching me she had touched grease. I looked about +the room, and there on the dressing-table close by the chest of drawers +was a pot of cold cream. That was the grease Helene Vauquier had +touched. And why--if not to hide some small thing in it which, firstly, +she dared not keep in her own room; which, secondly, she wished to hide +in the room of Mlle. Celie; and which, thirdly, she had not had an +opportunity to hide before? Now bear those three conditions in mind, +and tell me what the small thing was." + +Mr. Ricardo nodded his head. + +"I know now," he said. "You told me. The earrings of Mlle. Celie. But I +should not have guessed it at the time." + +"Nor could I--at the time," said Hanaud. "I kept my open mind about +Helene Vauquier; but I locked the door and took the key. Then we went +and heard Vauquier's story. The story was clever, because so much of it +was obviously, indisputably true. The account of the seances, of Mme. +Dauvray's superstitions, her desire for an interview with Mme. de +Montespan--such details are not invented. It was interesting, too, to +know that there had been a seance planned for that night! The method of +the murder began to be clear. So far she spoke the truth. But then she +lied. Yes, she lied, and it was a bad lie, my friend. She told us that +the strange woman Adele had black hair. Now I carried in my pocket-book +proof that that woman's hair was red. Why did she lie, except to make +impossible the identification of that strange visitor? That was the +first false step taken by Helene Vauquier. + +"Now let us take the second. I thought nothing of her rancour against +Mlle. Celie. To me it was all very natural. She--the hard peasant woman +no longer young, who had been for years the confidential servant of +Mme. Dauvray, and no doubt had taken her levy from the impostors who +preyed upon her credulous mistress--certainly she would hate this young +and pretty outcast whom she has to wait upon, whose hair she has to +dress. Vauquier--she would hate her. But if by any chance she were in +the plot--and the lie seemed to show she was--then the seances showed +me new possibilities. For Helene used to help Mlle. Celie. Suppose that +the seance had taken place, that this sceptical visitor with the red +hair professed herself dissatisfied with Vauquier's method of testing +the medium, had suggested another way, Mlle. Celie could not object, +and there she would be neatly and securely packed up beyond the power +of offering any resistance, before she could have a suspicion that +things were wrong. It would be an easy little comedy to play. And if +that were true--why, there were my sofa cushions partly explained." + +"Yes, I see!" cried Ricardo, with enthusiasm. "You are wonderful." + +Hanaud was not displeased with his companion's enthusiasm. + +"But wait a moment. We have only conjectures so far, and one fact that +Helene Vauquier lied about the colour of the strange woman's hair. Now +we get another fact. Mlle. Celie was wearing buckles on her shoes. And +there is my slit in the sofa cushions. For when she is flung on to the +sofa, what will she do? She will kick, she will struggle. Of course it +is conjecture. I do not as yet hold pigheadedly to it. I am not yet +sure that Mlle. Celie is innocent. I am willing at any moment to admit +that the facts contradict my theory. But, on the contrary, each fact +that I discover helps it to take shape. + +"Now I come to Helene Vauquier's second mistake. On the evening when +you saw Mlle. Celie in the garden behind the baccarat-rooms you noticed +that she wore no jewellery except a pair of diamond eardrops. In the +photograph of her which Wethermill showed me, again she was wearing +them. Is it not, therefore, probable that she usually wore them? When I +examined her room I found the case for those earrings--the case was +empty. It was natural, then, to infer that she was wearing them when +she came down to the seance." + +"Yes." + +"Well, I read a description--a carefully written description--of the +missing girl, made by Helene Vauquier after an examination of the +girl's wardrobe. There is no mention of the earrings. So I asked +her--'Was she not wearing them?' Helene Vauquier was taken by surprise. +How should I know anything of Mlle. Celie's earrings? She hesitated. +She did not quite know what answer to make. Now, why? Since she herself +dressed Mile. Celie, and remembers so very well all she wore, why does +she hesitate? Well, there is a reason. She does not know how much I +know about those diamond eardrops. She is not sure whether we have not +dipped into that pot of cold cream and found them. Yet without knowing +she cannot answer. So now we come back to our pot of cold cream." + +"Yes!" cried Mr. Ricardo. "They were there." + +"Wait a bit," said Hanaud. "Let us see how it works out. Remember the +conditions. Vauquier has some small thing which she must hide, and +which she wishes to hide in Mlle. Celie's room. For she admitted that +it was her suggestion that she should look through mademoiselle's +wardrobe. For what reason does she choose the girl's room, except that +if the thing were discovered that would be the natural place for it? It +is, then, something belonging to Mlle. Celie. There was a second +condition we laid down. It was something Vauquier had not been able to +hide before. It came, then, into her possession last night. Why could +she not hide it last night? Because she was not alone. There were the +man and the woman, her accomplices. It was something, then, which she +was concerned in hiding from them. It is not rash to guess, then, that +it was some piece of the plunder of which the other two would have +claimed their share--and a piece of plunder belonging to Mlle. Celie. +Well, she has nothing but the diamond eardrops. Suppose Vauquier is +left alone to guard Mlle. Celie while the other two ransack Mme. +Dauvray's room. She sees her chance. The girl cannot stir hand or foot +to save herself. Vauquier tears the eardrops in a hurry from her +ears--and there I have my drop of blood just where I should expect it +to be. But now follow this! Vauquier hides the earrings in her pocket. +She goes to bed in order to be chloroformed. She knows that it is very +possible that her room will be searched before she regains +consciousness, or before she is well enough to move. There is only one +place to hide them in, only one place where they will be safe. In bed +with her. But in the morning she must get rid of them, and a nurse is +with her. Hence the excuse to go to Mlle. Celie's room. If the eardrops +are found in the pot of cold cream, it would only be thought that Mlle. +Celie had herself hidden them there for safety. Again it is conjecture, +and I wish to make sure. So I tell Vauquier she can go away, and I +leave her unwatched. I have her driven to the depot instead of to her +friends, and searched. Upon her is found the pot of cream, and in the +cream Mlle. Celie's eardrops. She has slipped into Mlle. Celie's room, +as, if my theory was correct, she would be sure to do, and put the pot +of cream into her pocket. So I am now fairly sure that she is concerned +in the murder. + +"We then went to Mme. Dauvray's room and discovered her brilliants and +her ornaments. At once the meaning of that agitated piece of +hand-writing of Mlle. Celie's becomes clear. She is asked where the +jewels are hidden. She cannot answer, for her mouth, of course, is +stopped. She has to write. Thus my conjectures get more and more +support. And, mind this, one of the two women is guilty--Celie or +Vauquier. My discoveries all fit in with the theory of Celie's +innocence. But there remain the footprints, for which I found no +explanation. + +"You will remember I made you all promise silence as to the finding of +Mme. Dauvray's jewellery. For I thought, if they have taken the girl +away so that suspicion may fall on her and not on Vauquier, they mean +to dispose of her. But they may keep her so long as they have a chance +of finding out from her Mme. Dauvray's hiding-place. It was a small +chance but our only one. The moment the discovery of the jewellery was +published the girl's fate was sealed, were my theory true. + +"Then came our advertisement and Mme. Gobin's written testimony. There +was one small point of interest which I will take first: her statement +that Adele was the Christian name of the woman with the red hair, that +the old woman who was the servant in that house in the suburb of Geneva +called her Adele, just simply Adele. That interested me, for Helene +Vauquier had called her Adele too when she was describing to us the +unknown visitor. 'Adele' was what Mme. Dauvray called her." + +"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier made a slip there. She should +have given her a false name." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"It is the one slip she made in the whole of the business. Nor did she +recover herself very cleverly. For when the Commissaire pounced upon +the name, she at once modified her words. She only thought now that the +name was Adele, or something like it. But when I went on to suggest +that the name in any case would be a false one, at once she went back +upon her modifications. And now she was sure that Adele was the name +used. I remembered her hesitation when I read Marthe Gobin's letter. +They helped to confirm me in my theory that she was in the plot; and +they made me very sure that it was an Adele for whom we had to look. So +far well. But other statements in the letter puzzled me. For instance, +'She ran lightly and quickly across the pavement into the house, as +though she were afraid to be seen.' Those were the words, and the woman +was obviously honest. What became of my theory then? The girl was free +to run, free to stoop and pick up the train of her gown in her hand, +free to shout for help in the open street if she wanted help. No; that +I could not explain until that afternoon, when I saw Mlle. Celie's +terror-stricken eyes fixed upon that flask, as Lemerre poured a little +out and burnt a hole in the sack. Then I understood well enough. The +fear of vitriol!" Hanaud gave an uneasy shudder. "And it is enough to +make any one afraid! That I can tell you. No wonder she lay still as a +mouse upon the sofa in the bedroom. No wonder she ran quickly into the +house. Well, there you have the explanation. I had only my theory to +work upon even after Mme. Gobin's evidence. But as it happened it was +the right one. Meanwhile, of course, I made my inquiries into +Wethermill's circumstances. My good friends in England helped me. They +were precarious. He owed money in Aix, money at his hotel. We knew from +the motor-car that the man we were searching for had returned to Aix. +Things began to look black for Wethermill. Then you gave me a little +piece of information." + +"I!" exclaimed Ricardo, with a start. + +"Yes. You told me that you walked up to the hotel with Harry Wethermill +on the night of the murder and separated just before ten. A glance into +his rooms which I had--you will remember that when we had discovered +the motor-car I suggested that we should go to Harry Wethermill's rooms +and talk it over--that glance enabled me to see that he could very +easily have got out of his room on to the verandah below and escaped +from the hotel by the garden quite unseen. For you will remember that +whereas your rooms look out to the front and on to the slope of Mont +Revard, Wethermill's look out over the garden and the town of Aix. In a +quarter of an hour or twenty minutes he could have reached the Villa +Rose. He could have been in the salon before half-past ten, and that is +just the hour which suited me perfectly. And, as he got out unnoticed, +so he could return. So he did return! My friend, there are some +interesting marks upon the window-sill of Wethermill's room and upon +the pillar just beneath it. Take a look, M. Ricardo, when you return to +your hotel. But that was not all. We talked of Geneva in Mr. +Wethermill's room, and of the distance between Geneva and Aix. Do you +remember that?" + +"Yes," replied Ricardo. + +"Do you remember too that I asked him for a road-book?" + +"Yes; to make sure of the distance. I do." + +"Ah, but it was not to make sure of the distance that I asked for the +road-book, my friend. I asked in order to find out whether Harry +Wethermill had a road-book at all which gave a plan of the roads +between here and Geneva. And he had. He handed it to me at once and +quite naturally. I hope that I took it calmly, but I was not at all +calm inside. For it was a new road-book, which, by the way, he bought a +week before, and I was asking myself all the while--now what was I +asking myself, M. Ricardo?" + +"No," said Ricardo, with a smile. "I am growing wary. I will not tell +you what you were asking yourself, M. Hanaud. For even were I right you +would make out that I was wrong, and leap upon me with injuries and +gibes. No, you shall drink your coffee and tell me of your own accord." + +"Well," said Hanaud, laughing, "I will tell you. I was asking myself: +'Why does a man who owns no motor-car, who hires no motor-car, go out +into Aix and buy an automobilist's road-map? With what object?' And I +found it an interesting question. M. Harry Wethermill was not the man +to go upon a walking tour, eh? Oh, I was obtaining evidence. But then +came an overwhelming thing--the murder of Marthe Gobin. We know now how +he did it. He walked beside the cab, put his head in at the window, +asked, 'Have you come in answer to the advertisement?' and stabbed her +straight to the heart through her dress. The dress and the weapon which +he used would save him from being stained with her blood. He was in +your room that morning, when we were at the station. As I told you, he +left his glove behind. He was searching for a telegram in answer to +your advertisement. Or he came to sound you. He had already received +his telegram from Hippolyte. He was like a fox in a cage, snapping at +every one, twisting vainly this way and that way, risking everything +and every one to save his precious neck. Marthe Gobin was in the way. +She is killed. Mlle. Celie is a danger. So Mile. Celie must be +suppressed. And off goes a telegram to the Geneva paper, handed in by a +waiter from the cafe at the station of Chambery before five o'clock. +Wethermill went to Chambery that afternoon when we went to Geneva. Once +we could get him on the run, once we could so harry and bustle him that +he must take risks--why, we had him. And that afternoon he had to take +them." + +"So that even before Marthe Gobin was killed you were sure that +Wethermill was the murderer?" + +Hanaud's face clouded over. + +"You put your finger on a sore place, M. Ricardo. I was sure, but I +still wanted evidence to convict. I left him free, hoping for that +evidence. I left him free, hoping that he would commit himself. He did, +but--well, let us talk of some one else. What of Mlle. Celie?" + +Ricardo drew a letter from his pocket. + +"I have a sister in London, a widow," he said. "She is kind. I, too, +have been thinking of what will become of Mlle. Celie. I wrote to my +sister, and here is her reply. Mlle. Celie will be very welcome." + +Hanaud stretched out his hand and shook Ricardo's warmly. + +"She will not, I think, be for very long a burden. She is young. She +will recover from this shock. She is very pretty, very gentle. If--if +no one comes forward whom she loves and who loves her--I--yes, I +myself, who was her papa for one night, will be her husband forever." + +He laughed inordinately at his own joke; it was a habit of M. Hanaud's. +Then he said gravely: + +"But I am glad, M. Ricardo, for Mlle. Celie's sake that I came to your +amusing dinner-party in London." + +Mr. Ricardo was silent for a moment. Then he asked: + +"And what will happen to the condemned?" + +"To the women? Imprisonment for life." + +"And to the man?" + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"Perhaps the guillotine. Perhaps New Caledonia. How can I say? I am not +the President of the Republic." + + + + +END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of At the Villa Rose, by A. E. W. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: At the Villa Rose + +Author: A.E.W. Mason + +Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4745] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 12, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT AT THE VILLA ROSE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +AT THE VILLA ROSE + +A.E.W. Mason + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I. SUMMER LIGHTNING + II. A CRY FOR HELP + III. PERRICHET'S STORY + IV. AT THE VILLA + V. IN THE SALON + VI. HELENE VAUQUIER'S EVIDENCE + VII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY + VIII. THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP + IX. MME. DAUVRAY'S MOTOR-CAR + X. NEWS FROM GENEVA + XI. THE UNOPENED LETTER + XII. THE ALUMINIUM FLASK + XIII. IN THE HOUSE AT GENEVA + XIV. MR. RICARDO IS BEWILDERED + XV. CELIA'S STORY + XVI. THE FIRST MOVE + XVII. THE AFTERNOON OF TUESDAY +XVIII. THE SEANCE + XIX. HELENS EXPLAINS + XX. THE GENEVA ROAD + XXI. HANAUD EXPLAINS + + + + +AT THE VILLA ROSE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SUMMER LIGHTNING + + +It was Mr. Ricardo's habit as soon as the second week of August +came round to travel to Aix-les-Bains, in Savoy, where for five or +six weeks he lived pleasantly. He pretended to take the waters in +the morning, he went for a ride in his motor-car in the afternoon, +he dined at the Cercle in the evening, and spent an hour or two +afterwards in the baccarat-rooms at the Villa des Fleurs. An +enviable, smooth life without a doubt, and it is certain that his +acquaintances envied him. At the same time, however, they laughed +at him and, alas with some justice; for he was an exaggerated +person. He was to be construed in the comparative. Everything in +his life was a trifle overdone, from the fastidious arrangement of +his neckties to the feminine nicety of his little dinner-parties. +In age Mr. Ricardo was approaching the fifties; in condition he +was a widower--a state greatly to his liking, for he avoided at +once the irksomeness of marriage and the reproaches justly +levelled at the bachelor; finally, he was rich, having amassed a +fortune in Mincing Lane, which he had invested in profitable +securities. + +Ten years of ease, however, had not altogether obliterated in him +the business look. Though he lounged from January to December, he +lounged with the air of a financier taking a holiday; and when he +visited, as he frequently did, the studio of a painter, a stranger +would have hesitated to decide whether he had been drawn thither +by a love of art or by the possibility of an investment. His +"acquaintances" have been mentioned, and the word is suitable. For +while he mingled in many circles, he stood aloof from all. He +affected the company of artists, by whom he was regarded as one +ambitious to become a connoisseur; and amongst the younger +business men, who had never dealt with him, he earned the +disrespect reserved for the dilettante. If he had a grief, it was +that he had discovered no great man who in return for practical +favours would engrave his memory in brass. He was a Maecenas +without a Horace, an Earl of Southampton without a Shakespeare. In +a word, Aix-les-Bains in the season was the very place for him; +and never for a moment did it occur to him that he was here to be +dipped in agitations, and hurried from excitement to excitement. +The beauty of the little town, the crowd of well-dressed and +agreeable people, the rose-coloured life of the place, all made +their appeal to him. But it was the Villa des Fleurs which brought +him to Aix. Not that he played for anything more than an +occasional louis; nor, on the other hand, was he merely a cold +looker-on. He had a bank-note or two in his pocket on most +evenings at the service of the victims of the tables. But the +pleasure to his curious and dilettante mind lay in the spectacle +of the battle which was waged night after night between raw nature +and good manners. It was extraordinary to him how constantly +manners prevailed. There were, however, exceptions. + +For instance. On the first evening of this particular visit he +found the rooms hot, and sauntered out into the little +semicircular garden at the back. He sat there for half an hour +under a flawless sky of stars watching the people come and go in +the light of the electric lamps, and appreciating the gowns and +jewels of the women with the eye of a connoisseur; and then into +this starlit quiet there came suddenly a flash of vivid life. A +girl in a soft, clinging frock of white satin darted swiftly from +the rooms and flung herself nervously upon a bench. She could not, +to Ricardo's thinking, be more than twenty years of age. She was +certainly quite young. The supple slenderness of her figure proved +it, and he had moreover caught a glimpse, as she rushed out, of a +fresh and very pretty face; but he had lost sight of it now. For +the girl wore a big black satin hat with a broad brim, from which +a couple of white ostrich feathers curved over at the back, and in +the shadow of that hat her face was masked. All that he could see +was a pair of long diamond eardrops, which sparkled and trembled +as she moved her head--and that she did constantly. Now she stared +moodily at the ground; now she flung herself back; then she +twisted nervously to the right, and then a moment afterwards to +the left; and then again she stared in front of her, swinging a +satin slipper backwards and forwards against the pavement with the +petulance of a child. All her movements were spasmodic; she was on +the verge of hysteria. Ricardo was expecting her to burst into +tears, when she sprang up and as swiftly as she had come she +hurried back into the rooms. "Summer lightning," thought Mr. +Ricardo. + +Near to him a woman sneered, and a man said, pityingly: "She was +pretty, that little one. It is regrettable that she has lost." + +A few minutes afterwards Ricardo finished his cigar and strolled +back into the rooms, making his way to the big table just on the +right hand of the entrance, where the play as a rule runs high. It +was clearly running high tonight. For so deep a crowd thronged +about the table that Ricardo could only by standing on tiptoe see +the faces of the players. Of the banker he could not catch a +glimpse. But though the crowd remained, its units were constantly +changing, and it was not long before Ricardo found himself +standing in the front rank of the spectators, just behind the +players seated in the chairs. The oval green table was spread out +beneath him littered with bank-notes. Ricardo turned his eyes to +the left, and saw seated at the middle of the table the man who +was holding the bank. Ricardo recognised him with a start of +surprise. He was a young Englishman, Harry Wethermill, who, after +a brilliant career at Oxford and at Munich, had so turned his +scientific genius to account that he had made a fortune for +himself at the age of twenty-eight. + +He sat at the table with the indifferent look of the habitual +player upon his cleanly chiselled face. But it was plain that his +good fortune stayed at his elbow tonight, for opposite to him the +croupier was arranging with extraordinary deftness piles of bank- +notes in the order of their value. The bank was winning heavily. +Even as Ricardo looked Wethermill turned up "a natural," and the +croupier swept in the stakes from either side. + +"Faites vos jeux, messieurs. Le jeu est fait?" the croupier cried, +all in a breath, and repeated the words. Wethermill waited with +his hand upon the wooden frame in which the cards were stacked. He +glanced round the table while the stakes were being laid upon the +cloth, and suddenly his face flashed from languor into interest. +Almost opposite to him a small, white-gloved hand holding a five- +louis note was thrust forward between the shoulders of two men +seated at the table. Wethermill leaned forward and shook his head +with a smile. With a gesture he refused the stake. But he was too +late. The fingers of the hand had opened, the note fluttered down +on to the cloth, the money was staked. + +At once he leaned back in his chair. + +"Il y a une suite," he said quietly. He relinquished the bank +rather than play against that five-louis note. The stakes were +taken up by their owners. + +The croupier began to count Wethermill's winnings, and Ricardo, +curious to know whose small, delicately gloved hand it was which +had brought the game to so abrupt a termination, leaned forward. +He recognised the young girl in the white satin dress and the big +black hat whose nerves had got the better of her a few minutes +since in the garden. He saw her now clearly, and thought her of an +entrancing loveliness. She was moderately tall, fair of skin, with +a fresh colouring upon her cheeks which she owed to nothing but +her youth. Her hair was of a light brown with a sheen upon it, her +forehead broad, her eyes dark and wonderfully clear. But there was +something more than her beauty to attract him. He had a strong +belief that somewhere, some while ago, he had already seen her. +And this belief grew and haunted him. He was still vaguely +puzzling his brains to fix the place when the croupier finished +his reckoning. + +"There are two thousand louis in the bank," he cried. "Who will +take on the bank for two thousand louis?" + +No one, however, was willing. A fresh bank was put up for sale, +and Wethermill, still sitting in the dealer's chair, bought it. He +spoke at once to an attendant, and the man slipped round the +table, and, forcing his way through the crowd, carried a message +to the girl in the black hat. She looked towards Wethermill and +smiled; and the smile made her face a miracle of tenderness. Then +she disappeared, and in a few moments Ricardo saw a way open in +the throng behind the banker, and she appeared again only a yard +or two away, just behind Wethermill. He turned, and taking her +hand into his, shook it chidingly. + +"I couldn't let you play against me, Celia," he said, in English; +"my luck's too good tonight. So you shall be my partner instead. +I'll put in the capital and we'll share the winnings." + +The girl's face flushed rosily. Her hand still lay clasped in his. +She made no effort to withdraw it. + +"I couldn't do that," she exclaimed. + +"Why not?" said he. "See!" and loosening her fingers he took from +them the five-louis note and tossed it over to the croupier to be +added to his bank. "Now you can't help yourself. We're partners." + +The girl laughed, and the company at the table smiled, half in +sympathy, half with amusement. A chair was brought for her, and +she sat down behind Wethermill, her lips parted, her face joyous +with excitement. But all at once Wethermill's luck deserted him. +He renewed his bank three times, and had lost the greater part of +his winnings when he had dealt the cards through. He took a fourth +bank, and rose from that, too, a loser. + +"That's enough, Celia," he said. "Let us go out into the garden; +it will be cooler there," + +"I have taken your good luck away," said the girl remorsefully. +Wethermill put his arm through hers. + +"You'll have to take yourself away before you can do that," he +answered, and the couple walked together out of Ricardo's hearing. + +Ricardo was left to wonder about Celia. She was just one of those +problems which made Aix-les-Bains so unfailingly attractive to +him. She dwelt in some street of Bohemia; so much was clear. The +frankness of her pleasure, of her excitement, and even of her +distress proved it. She passed from one to the other while you +could deal a pack of cards. She was at no pains to wear a mask. +Moreover, she was a young girl of nineteen or twenty, running +about those rooms alone, as unembarrassed as if she had been at +home. There was the free use, too, of Christian names. Certainly +she dwelt in Bohemia. But it seemed to Ricardo that she could pass +in any company and yet not be overpassed. She would look a little +more picturesque than most girls of her age, and she was certainly +a good deal more soignee than many, and she had the Frenchwoman's +knack of putting on her clothes. But those would be all the +differences, leaving out the frankness. Ricardo wondered in what +street of Bohemia she dwelt. He wondered still more when he saw +her again half an hour afterwards at the entrance to the Villa des +Fleurs. She came down the long hall with Harry Wethermill at her +side. The couple were walking slowly, and talking as they walked +with so complete an absorption in each other that they were +unaware of their surroundings. At the bottom of the steps a stout +woman of fifty-five over-jewelled, and over-dressed and raddled +with paint, watched their approach with a smile of good-humoured +amusement. When they came near enough to hear she said in French: + +"Well, Celie, are you ready to go home?" + +The girl looked up with a start. + +"Of course, madame," she said, with a certain submissiveness which +surprised Ricardo. "I hope I have not kept you waiting." + +She ran to the cloak-room, and came back again with her cloak. + +"Good-bye, Harry," she said, dwelling upon his name and looking +out upon him with soft and smiling eyes. + +"I shall see you tomorrow evening," he said, holding her hand. +Again she let it stay within his keeping, but she frowned, and a +sudden gravity settled like a cloud upon her face. She turned to +the elder woman with a sort of appeal. + +"No, I do not think we shall be here, tomorrow, shall we, madame?" +she said reluctantly. + +"Of course not," said madame briskly. "You have not forgotten what +we have planned? No, we shall not be here tomorrow; but the night +after--yes." + +Celia turned back again to Wethermill. + +"Yes, we have plans for tomorrow," she said, with a very wistful +note of regret in her voice; and seeing that madame was already at +the door, she bent forward and said timidly, "But the night after +I shall want you." + +"I shall thank you for wanting me," Wethermill rejoined; and the +girl tore her hand away and ran up the steps. + +Harry Wethermill returned to the rooms. Mr. Ricardo did not follow +him. He was too busy with the little problem which had been +presented to him that night. What could that girl, he asked +himself, have in common with the raddled woman she addressed so +respectfully? Indeed, there had been a note of more than respect +in her voice. There had been something of affection. Again Mr. +Ricardo found himself wondering in what street in Bohemia Celia +dwelt--and as he walked up to the hotel there came yet other +questions to amuse him. + +"Why," he asked, "could neither Celia nor madame come to the Villa +des Fleurs tomorrow night? What are the plans they have made? And +what was it in those plans which had brought the sudden gravity +and reluctance into Celia's face?" + +Ricardo had reason to remember those questions during the next few +days, though he only idled with them now. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A CRY FOR HELP + + +It was on a Monday evening that Ricardo saw Harry Wethermill and +the girl Celia together. On the Tuesday he saw Wethermill in the +rooms alone and had some talk with him. + +Wethermill was not playing that night, and about ten o'clock the +two men left the Villa des Fleurs together. + +"Which way do you go?" asked Wethermill. + +"Up the hill to the Hotel Majestic," said Ricardo. + +"We go together, then. I, too, am staying there," said the young +man, and they climbed the steep streets together. Ricardo was +dying to put some questions about Wethermill's young friend of the +night before, but discretion kept him reluctantly silent. They +chatted for a few moments in the hall upon indifferent topics and +so separated for the night. Mr. Ricardo, however, was to learn +something more of Celia the next morning; for while he was fixing +his tie before the mirror Wethermill burst into his dressing-room. +Mr. Ricardo forgot his curiosity in the surge of his indignation. +Such an invasion was an unprecedented outrage upon the gentle +tenor of his life. The business of the morning toilette was +sacred. To interrupt it carried a subtle suggestion of anarchy. +Where was his valet? Where was Charles, who should have guarded +the door like the custodian of a chapel? + +"I cannot speak to you for at least another half-hour," said Mr. +Ricardo, sternly. + +But Harry Wethermill was out of breath and shaking with agitation. + +"I can't wait," he cried, with a passionate appeal. "I have got to +see you. You must help me, Mr. Ricardo--you must, indeed!" + +Ricardo spun round upon his heel. At first he had thought that the +help wanted was the help usually wanted at Aix-les-Bains. A glance +at Wethermills face, however, and the ringing note of anguish in +his voice, told him that the thought was wrong. Mr. Ricardo +slipped out of his affectations as out of a loose coat. "What has +happened?" he asked quietly. + +"Something terrible." With shaking fingers Wethermill held out a +newspaper. "Read it," he said. + +It was a special edition of a local newspaper, Le Journal de +Savoie, and it bore the date of that morning. + +"They are crying it in the streets," said Wethermill. "Read!" + +A short paragraph was printed in large black letters on the first +page, and leaped to the eyes. + +"Late last night," it ran, "an appalling murder was committed at +the Villa Rose, on the road to Lac Bourget. Mme. Camille Dauvray, +an elderly, rich woman who was well known at Aix, and had occupied +the villa every summer for the last few years, was discovered on +the floor of her salon, fully dressed and brutally strangled, +while upstairs, her maid, Helene Vauquier, was found in bed, +chloroformed, with her hands tied securely behind her back. At the +time of going to press she had not recovered consciousness, but +the doctor, Emile Peytin, is in attendance upon her, and it is +hoped that she will be able shortly to throw some light on this +dastardly affair. The police are properly reticent as to the +details of the crime, but the following statement may be accepted +without hesitation: + +"The murder was discovered at twelve o'clock at night by the +sergent-de-ville Perrichet, to whose intelligence more than a word +of praise is due, and it is obvious from the absence of all marks +upon the door and windows that the murderer was admitted from +within the villa. Meanwhile Mme. Dauvray's motor-car has +disappeared, and with it a young Englishwoman who came to Aix with +her as her companion. The motive of the crime leaps to the eyes. +Mme. Dauvray was famous in Aix for her jewels, which she wore with +too little prudence. The condition of the house shows that a +careful search was made for them, and they have disappeared. It is +anticipated that a description of the young Englishwoman, with a +reward for her apprehension, will be issued immediately. And it is +not too much to hope that the citizens of Aix, and indeed of +Prance, will be cleared of all participation in so cruel and +sinister a crime." + +Ricardo read through the paragraph with a growing consternation, +and laid the paper upon his dressing-table. + +"It is infamous," cried Wethermill passionately. + +"The young Englishwoman is, I suppose, your friend Miss Celia?" +said Ricardo slowly. + +Wethermill started forward. + +"You know her, then?" he cried in amazement. + +"No; but I saw her with you in the rooms. I heard you call her by +that name." + +"You saw us together?" exclaimed Wethermill. "Then you can +understand how infamous the suggestion is." + +But Ricardo had seen the girl half an hour before he had seen her +with Harry Wethermill. He could not but vividly remember the +picture of her as she flung herself on to the bench in the garden +in a moment of hysteria, and petulantly kicked a satin slipper +backwards and forwards against the stones. She was young, she was +pretty, she had a charm of freshness, but--but--strive against it +as he would, this picture in the recollection began more and more +to wear a sinister aspect. He remembered some words spoken by a +stranger. "She is pretty, that little one. It is regrettable that +she has lost." + +Mr. Ricardo arranged his tie with even a greater deliberation than +he usually employed. + +"And Mme. Dauvray?" he asked. "She was the stout woman with whom +your young friend went away?" + +"Yes," said Wethermill. + +Ricardo turned round from the mirror. + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Hanaud is at Aix. He is the cleverest of the French detectives. +You know him. He dined with you once." + +It was Mr. Ricardo's practice to collect celebrities round his +dinner-table, and at one such gathering Hanaud and Wethermill had +been present together. + +"You wish me to approach him?" + +"At once." + +"It is a delicate position," said Ricardo. "Here is a man in +charge of a case of murder, and we are quietly to go to him--" + +To his relief Wethermill interrupted him. + +"No, no," he cried; "he is not in charge of the case. He is on his +holiday. I read of his arrival two days ago in the newspaper. It +was stated that he came for rest. What I want is that he should +take charge of the case." + +The superb confidence of Wethermill shook Mr. Ricardo for a +moment, but his recollections were too clear. + +"You are going out of your way to launch the acutest of French +detectives in search of this girl. Are you wise, Wethermill?" + +Wethermill sprang up from his chair in desperation. + +"You, too, think her guilty! You have seen her. You think her +guilty--like this detestable newspaper, like the police." + +"Like the police?" asked Ricardo sharply. + +"Yes," said Harry Wethermill sullenly. "As soon as I saw that rag +I ran down to the villa. The police are in possession. They would +not let me into the garden. But I talked with one of them. They, +too, think that she let in the murderers." + +Ricardo took a turn across the room. Then he came to a stop in +front of Wethermill. + +"Listen to me," he said solemnly. "I saw this girl half an hour +before I saw you. She rushed out into the garden. She flung +herself on to a bench. She could not sit still. She was +hysterical. You know what that means. She had been losing. That's +point number one." + +Mr. Ricardo ticked it off upon his finger. + +"She ran back into the rooms. You asked her to share the winnings +of your bank. She consented eagerly. And you lost. That's point +number two. A little later, as she was going away, you asked her +whether she would be in the rooms the next night--yesterday night- +-the night when the murder was committed. Her face clouded over. +She hesitated. She became more than grave. There was a distinct +impression as though she shrank from the contemplation of what it +was proposed she should do on the next night. And then she +answered you, 'No, we have other plans.' That's number three." And +Mr. Ricardo ticked off his third point. + +"Now," he asked, "do you still ask me to launch Hanaud upon the +case?" + +"Yes, and at once," cried Wethermill. + +Ricardo called for his hat and his stick. + +"You know where Hanaud is staying?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied Wethermill, and he led Ricardo to an unpretentious +little hotel in the centre of the town. Ricardo sent in his name, +and the two visitors were immediately shown into a small sitting- +room, where M. Hanaud was enjoying his morning chocolate. He was +stout and broad-shouldered, with a full and almost heavy face. In +his morning suit at his breakfast-table he looked like a +prosperous comedian. + +He came forward with a smile of welcome, extending both his hands +to Mr. Ricardo. + +"Ah, my good friend," he said, "it is pleasant to see you. And Mr. +Wethermill," he exclaimed, holding a hand out to the young +inventor. + +"You remember me, then?" said Wethermill gladly. + +"It is my profession to remember people," said Hanaud, with a +laugh. "You were at that amusing dinner-party of Mr. Ricardo's in +Grosvenor Square." + +"Monsieur," said Wethermill, "I have come to ask your help." + +The note of appeal in his voice was loud. M. Hanaud drew up a +chair by the window and motioned to Wethermill to take it. He +pointed to another, with a bow of invitation to Mr. Ricardo. + +"Let me hear," he said gravely. + +"It is the murder of Mme. Dauvray," said Wethermill. + +Hanaud started. + +"And in what way, monsieur," he asked, "are you interested in the +murder of Mme. Dauvray?" + +"Her companion," said Wethermill, "the young English girl--she is +a great friend of mine." + +Hanaud's face grew stern. Then came a sparkle of anger in his +eyes. + +"And what do you wish me to do, monsieur?" he asked coldly. + +"You are upon your holiday, M. Hanaud. I wish you--no, I implore +you," Wethermill cried, his voice ringing with passion, "to take +up this case, to discover the truth, to find out what has become +of Celia." + +Hanaud leaned back in his chair with his hands upon the arms. He +did not take his eyes from Harry Wethermill, but the anger died +out of them. + +"Monsieur," he said, "I do not know what your procedure is in +England. But in France a detective does not take up a case or +leave it alone according to his pleasure. We are only servants. +This affair is in the hands of M. Fleuriot, the Juge d'lnstruction +of Aix." + +"But if you offered him your help it would be welcomed," cried +Wethermill. "And to me that would mean so much. There would be no +bungling. There would be no waste of time. Of that one would be +sure." + +Hanaud shook his head gently. His eyes were softened now by a look +of pity. Suddenly he stretched out a forefinger. + +"You have, perhaps, a photograph of the young lady in that card- +case in your breast-pocket." + +Wethermill flushed red, and, drawing out the card-case, handed the +portrait to Hanaud. Hanaud looked at it carefully for a few +moments. + +"It was taken lately, here?" he asked. + +"Yes; for me," replied Wethermill quietly. + +"And it is a good likeness?" + +"Very." + +"How long have you known this Mlle. Celie?" he asked. + +Wethermill looked at Hanaud with a certain defiance. + +"For a fortnight." + +Hanaud raised his eyebrows. + +"You met her here?" + +"Yes." + +"In the rooms, I suppose? Not at the house of one of your +friends?" + +"That is so," said Wethermill quietly. "A friend of mine who had +met her in Paris introduced me to her at my request." + +Hanaud handed back the portrait and drew forward his chair nearer +to Wethermill. His face had grown friendly. He spoke with a tone +of respect. + +"Monsieur, I know something of you. Our friend, Mr. Ricardo, told +me your history; I asked him for it when I saw you at his dinner. +You are of those about whom one does ask questions, and I know +that you are not a romantic boy, but who shall say that he is safe +from the appeal of beauty? I have seen women, monsieur, for whose +purity of soul I would myself have stood security, condemned for +complicity in brutal crimes on evidence that could not be +gainsaid; and I have known them turn foul-mouthed, and hideous to +look upon, the moment after their just sentence has been +pronounced." "No doubt, monsieur," said Wethermill, with perfect +quietude. "But Celia Harland is not one of those women." + +"I do not now say that she is," said Hanaud. "But the Juge +d'lnstruction here has already sent to me to ask for my +assistance, and I refused. I replied that I was just a good +bourgeois enjoying his holiday. Still it is difficult quite to +forget one's profession. It was the Commissaire of Police who came +to me, and naturally I talked with him for a little while. The +case is dark, monsieur, I warn you." + +"How dark?" asked Harry Wethermill. + +"I will tell you," said Hanaud, drawing his chair still closer to +the young man. "Understand this in the first place. There was an +accomplice within the villa. Some one let the murderers in. There +is no sign of an entrance being forced; no lock was picked, there +is no mark of a thumb on any panel, no sign of a bolt being +forced. There was an accomplice within the house. We start from +that." + +Wethermill nodded his head sullenly. Ricardo drew his chair up +towards the others. But Hanaud was not at that moment interested +in Ricardo. + +"Well, then, let us see who there are in Mme. Dauvray's household. +The list is not a long one. It was Mme. Dauvray's habit to take +her luncheon and her dinner at the restaurants, and her maid was +all that she required to get ready her 'petit dejeuner' in the +morning and her 'sirop' at night. Let us take the members of the +household one by one. There is first the chauffeur, Henri +Servettaz. He was not at the villa last night. He came back to it +early this morning." + +"Ah!" said Ricardo, in a significant exclamation. Wethermill did +not stir. He sat still as a stone, with a face deadly white and +eyes burning upon Hanaud's face. + +"But wait," said Hanaud, holding up a warning hand to Ricardo. +"Servettaz was in Chambery, where his parents live. He travelled +to Chambery by the two o'clock train yesterday. He was with them +in the afternoon. He went with them to a cafe in the evening. +Moreover, early this morning the maid, Helene Vauquier, was able +to speak a few words in answer to a question. She said Servettaz +was in Chambery. She gave his address. A telephone message was +sent to the police in that town, and Servettaz was found in bed. I +do not say that it is impossible that Servettaz was concerned in +the crime. That we shall see. But it is quite clear, I think, that +it was not he who opened the house to the murderers, for he was at +Chambery in the evening, and the murder was already discovered +here by midnight. Moreover--it is a small point--he lives, not in +the house, but over the garage in a corner of the garden. Then +besides the chauffeur there was a charwoman, a woman of Aix, who +came each morning at seven and left in the evening at seven or +eight. Sometimes she would stay later if the maid was alone in the +house, for the maid is nervous. But she left last night before +nine--there is evidence of that--and the murder did not take place +until afterwards. That is also a fact, not a conjecture. We can +leave the charwoman, who for the rest has the best of characters, +out of our calculations. There remain then, the maid, Helene +Vauquier, and"--he shrugged his shoulders--"Mlle. Celie." + +Hanaud reached out for the matches and lit a cigarette. + +"Let us take first the maid, Helene Vauquier. Forty years old, a +Normandy peasant woman--they are not bad people, the Normandy +peasants, monsieur--avaricious, no doubt, but on the whole honest +and most respectable. We know something of Helene Vauquier, +monsieur. See!" and he took up a sheet of paper from the table. +The paper was folded lengthwise, written upon only on the inside. +"I have some details here. Our police system is, I think, a little +more complete than yours in England. Helene Vauquier has served +Mme. Dauvray for seven years. She has been the confidential friend +rather than the maid. And mark this, M. Wethermill! During those +seven years how many opportunities has she had of conniving at +last night's crime? She was found chloroformed and bound. There is +no doubt that she was chloroformed. Upon that point Dr. Peytin is +quite, quite certain. He saw her before she recovered +consciousness. She was violently sick on awakening. She sank again +into unconsciousness. She is only now in a natural sleep. Besides +those people, there is Mlle. Celie. Of her, monsieur, nothing is +known. You yourself know nothing of her. She comes suddenly to Aix +as the companion of Mme. Dauvray--a young and pretty English girl. +How did she become the companion of Mme. Dauvray?" + +Wethermill stirred uneasily in his seat. His face flushed. To Mr. +Ricardo that had been from the beginning the most interesting +problem of the case. Was he to have the answer now? + +"I do not know," answered Wethermill, with some hesitation, and +then it seemed that he was at once ashamed of his hesitation. His +accent gathered strength, and in a low but ringing voice, he +added: "But I say this. You have told me, M. Hanaud, of women who +looked innocent and were guilty. But you know also of women and +girls who can live untainted and unspoilt amidst surroundings +which are suspicious." + +Hanaud listened, but he neither agreed nor denied. He took up a +second slip of paper. + +"I shall tell you something now of Mme. Dauvray," he said. "We +will not take up her early history. It might not be edifying and, +poor woman, she is dead. Let us not go back beyond her marriage +seventeen years ago to a wealthy manufacturer of Nancy, whom she +had met in Paris. Seven years ago M. Dauvray died, leaving his +widow a very rich woman. She had a passion for jewellery, which +she was now able to gratify. She collected jewels. A famous +necklace, a well-known stone--she was not, as you say, happy till +she got it. She had a fortune in precious stones--oh, but a large +fortune! By the ostentation of her jewels she paraded her wealth +here, at Monte Carlo, in Paris. Besides that, she was kind-hearted +and most impressionable. Finally, she was, like so many of her +class, superstitious to the degree of folly." + +Suddenly Mr. Ricardo started in his chair. Superstitious! The word +was a sudden light upon his darkness. Now he knew what had +perplexed him during the last two days. Clearly--too clearly--he +remembered where he had seen Celia Harland, and when. A picture +rose before his eyes, and it seemed to strengthen like a film in a +developing-dish as Hanaud continued: + +"Very well! take Mme. Dauvray as we find her--rich, ostentatious, +easily taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly superstitious- +-and you have in her a living provocation to every rogue. By a +hundred instances she proclaimed herself a dupe. She threw down a +challenge to every criminal to come and rob her. For seven years +Helene Vauquier stands at her elbow and protects her from serious +trouble. Suddenly there is added to her--your young friend, and +she is robbed and murdered. And, follow this, M. Wethermill, our +thieves are, I think, more brutal to their victims than is the +case with you." + +Wethermill shut his eyes in a spasm of pain and the pallor of his +face increased. + +"Suppose that Celia were one of the victims?" he cried in a +stifled voice. + +Hanaud glanced at him with a look of commiseration. + +"That perhaps we shall see," he said. "But what I meant was this. +A stranger like Mlle. Celie might be the accomplice in such a +crime as the crime of the Villa Rose, meaning only robbery. A +stranger might only have discovered too late that murder would be +added to the theft." + +Meanwhile, in strong, clear colours, Ricardo's picture stood out +before his eyes. He was startled by hearing Wethermill say, in a +firm voice: + +"My friend Ricardo has something to add to what you have said." + +"I!" exclaimed Ricardo. How in the world could Wethermill know of +that clear picture in his mind? + +"Yes. You saw Celia Harland on the evening before the murder." + +Ricardo stared at his friend. It seemed to him that Harry +Wethermill had gone out of his mind. Here he was corroborating the +suspicions of the police by facts--damning and incontrovertible +facts. + +"On the night before the murder," continued Wethermill quietly, +"Celia Harland lost money at the baccarat-table. Ricardo saw her +in the garden behind the rooms, and she was hysterical. Later on +that same night he saw her again with me, and he heard what she +said. I asked her to come to the rooms on the next evening-- +yesterday, the night of the crime--and her face changed, and she +said, 'No, we have other plans for tomorrow. But the night after I +shall want you.'" + +Hanaud sprang up from his chair. + +"And YOU tell me these two things!" he cried. + +"Yes," said Wethermill. "You were kind enough to say to me I was +not a romantic boy. I am not. I can face facts." + +Hanaud stared at his companion for a few moments. Then, with a +remarkable air of consideration, he bowed. + +"You have won, monsieur," he said. "I will take up this case. +But," and his face grew stern and he brought his fist down upon +the table with a bang, "I shall follow it to the end now, be the +consequences bitter as death to you." + +"That is what I wish, monsieur," said Wethermill. + +Hanaud locked up the slips of paper in his lettercase. Then he +went out of the room and returned in a few minutes. + +"We will begin at the beginning," he said briskly. "I have +telephoned to the Depot. Perrichet, the sergent-de-ville who +discovered the crime, will be here at once. We will walk down to +the villa with him, and on the way he shall tell us exactly what +he discovered and how he discovered it. At the villa we shall find +Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge d'lnstruction, who has already begun +his examination, and the Commissaire of Police. In company with +them we will inspect the villa. Except for the removal of Mme. +Dauvray's body from the salon to her bedroom and the opening of +the windows, the house remains exactly as it was." + +"We may come with you?" cried Harry Wethermill eagerly. + +"Yes, on one condition--that you ask no questions, and answer none +unless I put them to you. Listen, watch, examine--but no +interruptions!" + +Hanaud's manner had altogether changed. It was now authoritative +and alert. He turned to Ricardo. + +"You will swear to what you saw in the garden and to the words you +heard?" he asked. "They are important." + +"Yes," said Ricardo. + +But he kept silence about that clear picture in his mind which to +him seemed no less important, no less suggestive. + +The Assembly Hall at Leamington, a crowded audience chiefly of +ladies, a platform at one end on which a black cabinet stood. A +man, erect and with something of the soldier in his bearing, led +forward a girl, pretty and fair-haired, who wore a black velvet +dress with a long, sweeping train. She moved like one in a dream. +Some half-dozen people from the audience climbed on to the +platform, tied thy girl's hands with tape behind her back, and +sealed the tape. She was led to the cabinet, and in full view of +the audience fastened to a bench. Then the door of the cabinet was +closed, the people upon the platform descended into the body of +the hall, and the lights were turned very low. The audience sat in +suspense, and then abruptly in the silence and the darkness there +came the rattle of a tambourine from the empty platform. Rappings +and knockings seemed to flicker round the panels of the hall, and +in the place where the door of the cabinet should be there +appeared a splash of misty whiteness. The whiteness shaped itself +dimly into the figure of a woman, a face dark and Eastern became +visible, and a deep voice spoke in a chant of the Nile and Antony. +Then the vision faded, the tambourines and cymbals rattled again. +The lights were turned up, the door of the cabinet thrown open, +and the girl in the black velvet dress was seen fastened upon the +bench within. + +It was a spiritualistic performance at which Julius Ricardo had +been present two years ago. The young, fair-haired girl in black +velvet, the medium, was Celia Harland. + +That was the picture which was in Ricardo's mind, and Hanaud's +description of Mme. Dauvray made a terrible commentary upon it. +"Easily taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly +superstitious, a living provocation to every rogue." Those were +the words, and here was a beautiful girl of twenty versed in those +very tricks of imposture which would make Mme. Dauvray her natural +prey! + +Ricardo looked at Wethermill, doubtful whether he should tell what +he knew of Celia Harland or not. But before he had decided a knock +came upon the door. + +"Here is Perrichet," said Hanaud, taking up his hat. "We will go +down to the Villa Rose." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PERRICHET'S STORY + + +Perrichet was a young, thick-set man, with, a red, fair face, and +a moustache and hair so pale in colour that they were almost +silver. He came into the room with an air of importance. + +"Aha!" said Hanaud, with a malicious smile. "You went to bed late +last night, my friend. Yet you were up early enough to read the +newspaper. Well, I am to have the honour of being associated with +you in this case." + +Perrichet twirled his cap awkwardly and blushed. + +"Monsieur is pleased to laugh at me," he said. "But it was not I +who called myself intelligent. Though indeed I would like to be +so, for the good God knows I do not look it." + +Hanaud clapped him on the shoulder. + +"Then congratulate yourself! It is a great advantage to be +intelligent and not to look it. We shall get on famously. Come!" + +The four men descended the stairs, and as they walked towards the +villa Perrichet related, concisely and clearly, his experience of +the night. + +"I passed the gate of the villa about half-past nine," he said. +"The gate was dosed. Above the wall and bushes of the garden I saw +a bright light in the room upon the first floor which faces the +road at the south-western comer of the villa. The lower windows I +could not see. More than an hour afterwards I came back, and as I +passed the villa again I noticed that there was now no light in +the room upon the first floor, but that the gate was open. I +thereupon went into the garden, and, pulling the gate, let it +swing to and latch. But it occurred to me as I did so that there +might be visitors at the villa who had not yet left, and for whom +the gate had been set open. I accordingly followed the drive which +winds round to the front door. The front door is not on the side +of the villa which faces the road, but at the back. When I came to +the open space where the carriages turn, I saw that the house was +in complete darkness. There were wooden latticed doors to the long +windows on the ground floor, and these were closed. I tried one to +make certain, and found the fastenings secure. The other windows +upon that floor were shuttered. No light gleamed anywhere. I then +left the garden, closing the gate behind me. I heard a clock +strike the hour a few minutes afterwards, so that I can be sure of +the time. It was now eleven o'clock. I came round a third time an +hour after, and to my astonishment I found the gate once more +open. I had left it closed and the house shut up and dark. Now it +stood open! I looked up to the windows and I saw that in a room on +the second floor, close beneath the roof, a light was burning +brightly. That room had been dark an hour before. I stood and +watched the light for a few minutes, thinking that I should see it +suddenly go out. But it did not: it burned quite steadily. This +light and the gate opened and reopened aroused my suspicions. I +went again into the garden, but this time with greater caution. It +was a clear night, and, although there was no moon, I could see +without the aid of my lantern. I stole quietly along the drive. +When I came round to the front door, I noticed immediately that +the shutters of one of the ground-floor windows were swung back, +and that the inside glass window which descended to the ground +stood open. The sight gave me a shock. Within the house those +shutters had been opened. I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins +and a chill crept along my spine. I thought of that solitary light +burning steadily under the roof. I was convinced that something +terrible had happened." + +"Yes, yes. Quite so," said Hanaud. "Go on, my friend." + +"The interior of the room gaped black," Perrichet resumed. "I +crept up to the window at the side of the wall and dashed my +lantern into the room. The window, however, was in a recess which +opened into the room through an arch, and at each side of the arch +curtains were draped. The curtains were not closed, but between +them I could see nothing but a strip of the room. I stepped +carefully in, taking heed not to walk on the patch of grass before +the window. The light of my lantern showed me a chair overturned +upon the floor, and to my right, below the middle one of the three +windows in the right-hand side wall, a woman lying huddled upon +the floor. It was Mme. Dauvray. She was dressed. There was a +little mud upon her shoes, as though she had walked after the rain +had ceased. Monsieur will remember that two heavy showers fell +last evening between six and eight." + +"Yes," said Hanaud, nodding his approval. + +"She was quite dead. Her face was terribly swollen and black, and +a piece of thin strong cord was knotted so tightly about her neck +and had sunk so deeply into her flesh that at first I did not see +it. For Mme. Dauvray was stout." + +"Then what did you do?" asked Hanaud. + +"I went to the telephone which was in the hall and rang up the +police. Then I crept upstairs very cautiously, trying the doors. I +came upon no one until I reached the room under the roof where the +light was burning; there I found Helene Vauquier, the maid, +snoring in bed in a terrible fashion." + +The four men turned a bend in the road. A few paces away a knot of +people stood before a gate which a sergent-de-ville guarded. + +"But here we are at the villa," said Hanaud. + +They all looked up and, from a window at the corner upon the first +floor a man looked out and drew in his head. + +"That is M. Besnard, the Commissaire of our police in Aix," said +Perrichet. + +"And the window from which he looked," said Hanaud, "must be the +window of that room in which you saw the bright light at half-past +nine on your first round?" + +"Yes, m'sieur," said Perrichet; "that is the window." + +They stopped at the gate. Perrichet spoke to the sergent-de-ville, +who at once held the gate open. The party passed into the garden +of the villa. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE VILLA + + +The drive curved between trees and high bushes towards the back of +the house, and as the party advanced along it a small, trim, +soldier-like man, with a pointed beard, came to meet them. It was +the man who had looked out from the window, Louis Besnard, the +Commissaire of Police. + +"You are coming, then, to help us, M. Hanaud!" he cried, extending +his hands. "You will find no jealousy here; no spirit amongst us +of anything but good will; no desire except one to carry out your +suggestions. All we wish is that the murderers should be +discovered. Mon Dieu, what a crime! And so young a girl to be +involved in it! But what will you?" + +"So you have already made your mind up on that point!" said Hanaud +sharply. + +The Commissaire shrugged his shoulders. + +"Examine the villa and then judge for yourself whether any other +explanation is conceivable," he said; and turning, he waved his +hand towards the house. Then he cried, "Ah!" and drew himself into +an attitude of attention. A tall, thin man of about forty-five +years, dressed in a frock coat and a high silk hat, had just come +round an angle of the drive and was moving slowly towards them. He +wore the soft, curling brown beard of one who has never used a +razor on his chin, and had a narrow face with eyes of a very light +grey, and a round bulging forehead. + +"This is the Juge d'Instruction?" asked Hanaud. + +"Yes; M. Fleuriot," replied Louis Besnard in a whisper. + +M. Fleuriot was occupied with his own thoughts, and it was not +until Besnard stepped forward noisily on the gravel that he became +aware of the group in the garden. + +"This is M. Hanaud, of the Surete in Paris," said Louis Besnard. + +M. Fleuriot bowed with cordiality. + +"You are very welcome, M. Hanaud. You will find that nothing at +the villa has been disturbed. The moment the message arrived over +the telephone that you were willing to assist us I gave +instructions that all should be left as we found it. I trust that +you, with your experience, will see a way where our eyes find +none." + +Hanaud bowed in reply. + +"I shall do my best, M. Fleuriot. I can say no more," he said. + +"But who are these gentlemen?" asked Fleuriot, waking, it seemed, +now for the first time to the presence of Harry Wethermill and Mr. +Ricardo. + +"They are both friends of mine," replied Hanaud. "If you do not +object I think their assistance may be useful. Mr. Wethermill, for +instance, was acquainted with Celia Harland." + +"Ah!" cried the judge; and his face took on suddenly a keen and +eager look. "You can tell me about her perhaps?" + +"All that I know I will tell readily," said Harry Wethermill. + +Into the light eyes of M. Fleuriot there came a cold, bright +gleam. He took a step forward. His face seemed to narrow to a +greater sharpness. In a moment, to Mr. Ricardo's thought, he +ceased to be the judge; he dropped from his high office; he +dwindled into a fanatic. + +"She is a Jewess, this Celia Harland?" he cried. + +"No, M. Fleuriot, she is not," replied Wethermill. "I do not speak +in disparagement of that race, for I count many friends amongst +its members. But Celia Harland is not one of them." + +"Ah!" said Fleuriot; and there was something of disappointment, +something, too, of incredulity, in his voice. "Well, you will come +and report to me when you have made your investigation." And he +passed on without another question or remark. + +The group of men watched him go, and it was not until he was out +of earshot that Besnard turned with a deprecating gesture to +Hanaud. + +"Yes, yes, he is a good judge, M. Hanaud--quick, discriminating, +sympathetic; but he has that bee in his bonnet, like so many +others. Everywhere he must see l'affaire Dreyfus. He cannot get it +out of his head. No matter how insignificant a woman is murdered, +she must have letters in her possession which would convict +Dreyfus. But you know! There are thousands like that--good, +kindly, just people in the ordinary ways of life, but behind every +crime they see the Jew." + +Hanaud nodded his head. + +"I know; and in a Juge d'Instruction it is very embarrassing. Let +us walk on." + +Half-way between the gate and the villa a second carriage-road +struck off to the left, and at the entrance to it stood a young, +stout man in black leggings. + +"The chauffeur?" asked Hanaud. "I will speak to him." + +The Commissaire called the chauffeur forward. + +"Servettaz," he said, "you will answer any questions which +monsieur may put to you." + +"Certainly, M. le Commissaire," said the chauffeur. His manner was +serious, but he answered readily. There was no sign of fear upon +his face. + +"How long have you been with Mme. Dauvray?" Hanaud asked. + +"Four months, monsieur. I drove her to Aix from Paris." + +"And since your parents live at Chambery you wished to seize the +opportunity of spending a day with them while you were so near?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"When did you ask for permission?" + +"On Saturday, monsieur." + +"Did you ask particularly that you should have yesterday, the +Tuesday?" + +"No, monsieur; I asked only for a day whenever it should be +convenient to madame." + +"Quite so," said Hanaud. "Now, when did Mme. Dauvray tell you that +you might have Tuesday?" + +Servettaz hesitated. His face became troubled. When he spoke, he +spoke reluctantly. + +"It was not Mme. Dauvray, monsieur, who told me that I might go on +Tuesday," he said. + +"Not Mme. Dauvray! Who was it, then?" Hanaud asked sharply. + +Servettaz glanced from one to another of the grave faces which +confronted him. + +"It was Mlle. Celie," he said, "who told me." + +"Oh!" said Hanaud, slowly. "It was Mlle. Celie. When did she tell +you?" + +"On Monday morning, monsieur. I was cleaning the car. She came to +the garage with some flowers in her hand which she had been +cutting in the garden, and she said: 'I was right, Alphonse. +Madame has a kind heart. You can go to-morrow by the train which +leaves Aix at 1.52 and arrives at Chambery at nine minutes after +two.'" + +Hanaud started. + +"'I was right, Alphonse.' Were those her words? And 'Madame has a +kind heart.' Come, come, what is all this?" He lifted a warning +finger and said gravely, "Be very careful, Servettaz." + +"Those were her words, monsieur." + +"'I was right, Alphonse. Madame has a kind heart'?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Then Mlle. Celie had spoken to you before about this visit of +yours to Chambery," said Hanaud, with his eyes fixed steadily upon +the chauffeur's face. The distress upon Servettaz's face +increased. Suddenly Hanaud's voice rang sharply. "You hesitate. +Begin at the beginning. Speak the truth, Servettaz!" + +"Monsieur, I am speaking the truth," said the chauffeur. "It is +true I hesitate ... I have heard this morning what people are +saying ... I do not know what to think. Mlle. Celie was always +kind and thoughtful for me ... But it is true"--and with a kind of +desperation he went on--"yes, it is true that it was Mlle. Celie +who first suggested to me that I should ask for a day to go to +Chambery." + +"When did she suggest it?" + +"On the Saturday." + +To Mr. Ricardo the words were startling. He glanced with pity +towards Wethermill. Wethermill, however, had made up his mind for +good and all. He stood with a dogged look upon his face, his chin +thrust forward, his eyes upon the chauffeur. Besnard, the +Commissaire, had made up his mind, too. He merely shrugged his +shoulders. Hanaud stepped forward and laid his hand gently on the +chauffeur's arm. + +"Come, my friend," he said, "let us hear exactly how this +happened!" + +"Mlle. Celie," said Servettaz, with genuine compunction in his +voice, "came to the garage on Saturday morning and ordered the car +for the afternoon. She stayed and talked to me for a little while, +as she often did. She said that she had been told that my parents +lived at Chambery, and since I was so near I ought to ask for a +holiday. For it would not be kind if I did not go and see them." + +"That was all?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Very well." And the detective resumed at once his brisk voice and +alert manner. He seemed to dismiss Servettaz's admission from his +mind. Ricardo had the impression of a man tying up an important +document which for the moment he has done with, and putting it +away ticketed in some pigeon-hole in his desk. "Let us see the +garage!" + +They followed the road between the bushes until a turn showed them +the garage with its doors open. + +"The doors were found unlocked?" + +"Just as you see them." + +Hanaud nodded. He spoke again to Servettaz. "What did you do with +the key on Tuesday?" + +"I gave it to Helene Vauquier, monsieur, after I had locked up the +garage. And she hung it on a nail in the kitchen." + +"I see," said Hanaud. "So any one could easily, have found it last +night?" + +"Yes, monsieur--if one knew where to look for it." + +At the back of the garage a row of petrol-tins stood against the +brick wall. + +"Was any petrol taken?" asked Hanaud. + +"Yes, monsieur; there was very little petrol in the car when I +went away. More was taken, but it was taken from the middle tins-- +these." And he touched the tins. + +"I see," said Hanaud, and he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. The +Commissaire moved with impatience. + +"From the middle or from the end--what does it matter?" he +exclaimed. "The petrol was taken." + +Hanaud, however, did not dismiss the point so lightly. + +"But it is very possible that it does matter," he said gently. +"For example, if Servettaz had had no reason to examine his tins +it might have been some while before he found out that the petrol +had been taken." + +"Indeed, yes," said Servettaz. "I might even have forgotten that I +had not used it myself." + +"Quite so," said Hanaud, and he turned to Besnard. + +"I think that may be important. I do not know," he said. + +"But since the car is gone," cried Besnard, "how could the +chauffeur not look immediately at his tins?" + +The question had occurred to Ricardo, and he wondered in what way +Hanaud meant to answer it. Hanaud, however, did not mean to answer +it. He took little notice of it at all. He put it aside with a +superb indifference to the opinion which his companions might form +of him. + +"Ah, yes," he said, carelessly. "Since the car is gone, as you +say, that is so." And he turned again to Servettaz. + +"It was a powerful car?" he asked. + +"Sixty horse-power," said Servettaz. + +Hanaud turned to the Commissaire. + +"You have the number and description, I suppose? It will be as +well to advertise for it. It may have been seen; it must be +somewhere." + +The Commissaire replied that the description had already been +printed, and Hanaud, with a nod of approval, examined the ground. +In front of the garage there was a small stone courtyard, but on +its surface there was no trace of a footstep. + +"Yet the gravel was wet," he said, shaking his head. "The man who +fetched that car fetched it carefully." + +He turned and walked back with his eyes upon the ground. Then he +ran to the grass border between the gravel and the bushes. + +"Look!" he said to Wethermill; "a foot has pressed the blades of +grass down here, but very lightly--yes, and there again. Some one +ran along the border here on his toes. Yes, he was very careful." + +They turned again into the main drive, and, following it for a few +yards, came suddenly upon a space in front of the villa. It was a +small toy pleasure-house, looking on to a green lawn gay with +flower-beds. It was built of yellow stone, and was almost square +in shape. A couple of ornate pillars flanked the door, and a gable +roof, topped by a gilt vane, surmounted it. To Ricardo it seemed +impossible that so sordid and sinister a tragedy had taken place +within its walls during the last twelve hours. It glistened so +gaudily in the blaze of sunlight. Here and there the green outer +shutters were closed; here and there the windows stood open to let +in the air and light. Upon each side of the door there was a +window lighting the hall, which was large; beyond those windows +again, on each side, there were glass doors opening to the ground +and protected by the ordinary green latticed shutters of wood, +which now stood hooked back against the wall. These glass doors +opened into rooms oblong in shape, which ran through towards the +back of the house, and were lighted in addition by side windows. +The room upon the extreme left, as the party faced the villa, was +the dining-room, with the kitchen at the back; the room on the +right was the salon in which the murder had been committed. In +front of the glass door to this room a strip of what had once been +grass stretched to the gravel drive. But the grass had been worn +away by constant use, and the black mould showed through. This +strip was about three yards wide, and as they approached they saw, +even at a distance, that since the rain of last night it had been +trampled down. + +"We will go round the house first," said Hanaud, and he turned +along the side of the villa and walked in the direction of the +road. There were four windows just above his head, of which three +lighted the salon, and the fourth a small writing-room behind it. +Under these windows there was no disturbance of the ground, and a +careful investigation showed conclusively that the only entrance +used had been the glass doors of the salon facing the drive. To +that spot, then, they returned. There were three sets of footmarks +upon the soil. One set ran in a distinct curve from the drive to +the side of the door, and did not cross the others. + +"Those," said Hanaud, "are the footsteps of my intelligent friend, +Perrichet, who was careful not to disturb the ground." + +Perrichet beamed all over his rosy face, and Besnard nodded at him +with condescending approval. + +"But I wish, M. le Commissaire"--and Hanaud pointed to a blur of +marks--"that your other officers had been as intelligent. Look! +These run from the glass door to the drive, and, for all the use +they are to us, a harrow might have been dragged across them." + +Besnard drew himself up. + +"Not one of my officers has entered the room by way of this door. +The strictest orders were given and obeyed. The ground, as you see +it, is the ground as it was at twelve o'clock last night." + +Hanaud's face grew thoughtful. + +"Is that so?" he said, and he stooped to examine the second set of +marks. They were at the righthand side of the door. "A woman and a +man," he said. "But they are mere hints rather than prints. One +might almost think--" He rose up without finishing his sentence, +and he turned to the third set and a look of satisfaction gleamed +upon his face. "Ah! here is something more interesting," he said. + +There were just three impressions; and, whereas the blurred marks +were at the side, these three pointed straight from the middle of +the glass doors to the drive. They were quite clearly defined, and +all three were the impressions made by a woman's small, arched, +high-heeled shoe. The position of the marks was at first sight a +little peculiar. There was one a good yard from the window, the +impression of the right foot, and the pressure of the sole of the +shoe was more marked than that of the heel. The second, the +impression of the left foot, was not quite so far from the first +as the first was from the window, and here again the heel was the +more lightly defined. But there was this difference--the mark of +the toe, which was pointed in the first instance, was, in this, +broader and a trifle blurred. Close beside it the right foot was +again visible; only now the narrow heel was more clearly defined +than the ball of the foot. It had, indeed, sunk half an inch into +the soft ground. There were no further imprints. Indeed, these two +were not merely close together, they were close to the gravel of +the drive and on the very border of the grass. + +Hanaud looked at the marks thoughtfully. Then he turned to the +Commissaire. + +"Are there any shoes in the house which fit those marks?" + +"Yes. We have tried the shoes of all the women--Celie Harland, the +maid, and even Mme. Dauvray. The only ones which fit at all are +those taken from Celie Harland's bedroom." + +He called to an officer standing in the drive, and a pair of grey +suede shoes were brought to him from the hall. + +"See, M. Hanaud, it is a pretty little foot which made those clear +impressions," he said, with a smile; "a foot arched and slender. +Mme. Dauvray's foot is short and square, the maid's broad and +flat. Neither Mme. Dauvray nor Helene Vauquier could have worn +these shoes. They were lying, one here, one there, upon the floor +of Celie Harland's room, as though she had kicked them off in a +hurry. They are almost new, you see. They have been worn once, +perhaps, no more, and they fit with absolute precision into those +footmarks, except just at the toe of that second one." + +Hanaud took the shoes and, kneeling down, placed them one after +the other over the impressions. To Ricardo it was extraordinary +how exactly they covered up the marks and filled the indentations. + +"I should say," said the Commissaire, "that Celie Harland went +away wearing a new pair of shoes made on the very same last as +those." + +As those she had left carelessly lying on the floor of her room +for the first person to notice, thought Ricardo! It seemed as if +the girl had gone out of her way to make the weight of evidence +against her as heavy as possible. Yet, after all, it was just +through inattention to the small details, so insignificant at the +red moment of crime, so terribly instructive the next day, that +guilt was generally brought home. + +Hanaud rose to his feet and handed the shoes back to the officer. + +"Yes," he said, "so it seems. The shoemaker can help us here. I +see the shoes were made in Aix." + +Besnard looked at the name stamped in gold letters upon the lining +of the shoes. + +"I will have inquiries made," he said. + +Hanaud nodded, took a measure from his pocket and measured the +ground between the window and the first footstep, and between the +first footstep and the other two. + +"How tall is Mlle. Celie?" he asked, and he addressed the question +to Wethermill. It struck Ricardo as one of the strangest details +in all this strange affair that the detective should ask with +confidence for information which might help to bring Celia Harland +to the guillotine from the man who had staked his happiness upon +her innocence. + +"About five feet seven," he answered. + +Hanaud replaced his measure in his pocket. He turned with a grave +face to Wethermill. + +"I warned you fairly, didn't I?" he said. + +Wethermill's white face twitched. + +"Yes," he said. "I am not afraid." But there was more of anxiety +in his voice than there had been before. + +Hanaud pointed solemnly to the ground. + +"Read the story those footprints write in the mould there. A young +and active girl of about Mlle. Celie's height, and wearing a new +pair of Mlle. Celie's shoes, springs from that room where the +murder was committed, where the body of the murdered woman lies. +She is running. She is wearing a long gown. At the second step the +hem of the gown catches beneath the point of her shoe. She +stumbles. To save herself from falling she brings up the other +foot sharply and stamps the heel down into the ground. She +recovers her balance. She steps on to the drive. It is true the +gravel here is hard and takes no mark, but you will see that some +of the mould which has clung to her shoes has dropped off. She +mounts into the motor-car with the man and the other woman and +drives off--some time between eleven and twelve." + +"Between eleven and twelve? Is that sure?" asked Besnard. + +"Certainly," replied Hanaud. "The gate is open at eleven, and +Perrichet closes it. It is open again at twelve. Therefore the +murderers had not gone before eleven. No; the gate was open for +them to go, but they had not gone. Else why should the gate again +be open at midnight?" + +Besnard nodded in assent, and suddenly Perrichet started forward, +with his eyes full of horror. + +"Then, when I first closed the gate," he cried, "and came into the +garden and up to the house they were here--in that room? Oh, my +God!" He stared at the window, with his mouth open. + +"I am afraid, my friend, that is so," said Hanaud gravely. + +"But I knocked upon the wooden door, I tried the bolts; and they +were within--in the darkness within, holding their breath not +three yards from me." + +He stood transfixed. + +"That we shall see," said Hanaud. + +He stepped in Perrichet's footsteps to the sill of the room. He +examined the green wooden doors which opened outwards, and the +glass doors which opened inwards, taking a magnifying-glass from +his pocket. He called Besnard to his side. + +"See!" he said, pointing to the woodwork. + +"Finger-marks!" asked Besnard eagerly. + +"Yes; of hands in gloves," returned Hanaud. "We shall learn +nothing from these marks except that the assassins knew their +trade." + +Then he stooped down to the sill, where some traces of steps were +visible. He rose with a gesture of resignation. + +"Rubber shoes," he said, and so stepped into the room, followed by +Wethermill and the others. They found themselves in a small recess +which was panelled with wood painted white, and here and there +delicately carved into festoons of flowers. The recess ended in an +arch, supported by two slender pillars, and on the inner side of +the arch thick curtains of pink silk were hung. These were drawn +back carelessly, and through the opening between them the party +looked down the length of the room beyond. They passed within. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE SALON + + +Julius Ricardo pushed aside the curtains with a thrill of +excitement. He found himself standing within a small oblong room +which was prettily, even daintily, furnished. On his left, close +by the recess, was a small fireplace with the ashes of a burnt-out +fire in the grate. Beyond the grate a long settee covered in pink +damask, with a crumpled cushion at each end, stood a foot or two +away from the wall, and beyond the settee the door of the room +opened into the hall. At the end a long mirror was let into the +panelling, and a writing-table stood by the mirror. On the right +were the three windows, and between the two nearest to Mr. Ricardo +was the switch of the electric light. A chandelier hung from the +ceiling, an electric lamp stood upon the writing-table, a couple +of electric candles on the mantel-shelf. A round satinwood table +stood under the windows, with three chairs about it, of which one +was overturned, one was placed with its back to the electric +switch, and the third on the opposite side facing it. + +Ricardo could hardly believe that he stood actually upon the spot +where, within twelve hours, a cruel and sinister tragedy had taken +place. There was so little disorder. The three windows on his +right showed him the blue sunlit sky and a glimpse of flowers and +trees; behind him the glass doors stood open to the lawn, where +birds piped cheerfully and the trees murmured of summer. But he +saw Hanaud stepping quickly from place to place, with an +extraordinary lightness of step for so big a man, obviously +engrossed, obviously reading here and there some detail, some +custom of the inhabitants of that room. + +Ricardo leaned with careful artistry against the wall. + +"Now, what has this room to say to me?" he asked importantly. +Nobody paid the slightest attention to his question, and it was +just as well. For the room had very little information to give +him. He ran his eye over the white Louis Seize furniture, the +white panels of the wall, the polished floor, the pink curtains. +Even the delicate tracery of the ceiling did not escape his +scrutiny. Yet he saw nothing likely to help him but an overturned +chair and a couple of crushed cushions on a settee. It was very +annoying, all the more annoying because M. Hanaud was so +uncommonly busy. Hanaud looked carefully at the long settee and +the crumpled cushions, and he took out his measure and measured +the distance between the cushion at one end and the cushion at the +other. He examined the table, he measured the distance between the +chairs. He came to the fireplace and raked in the ashes of the +burnt-out fire. But Ricardo noticed a singular thing. In the midst +of his search Hanaud's eyes were always straying back to the +settee, and always with a look of extreme perplexity, as if he +read there something, definitely something, but something which he +could not explain. Finally he went back to it; he drew it farther +away from the wall, and suddenly with a little cry he stooped and +went down on his knees. When he rose he was holding some torn +fragments of paper in his hand. He went over to the writing-table +and opened the blotting-book. Where it fell open there were some +sheets of note-paper, and one particular sheet of which half had +been torn off. He compared the pieces which he held with that torn +sheet, and seemed satisfied. + +There was a rack for note-paper upon the table, and from it he +took a stiff card. + +"Get me some gum or paste, and quickly," he said. His voice had +become brusque, the politeness had gone from his address. He +carried the card and the fragments of paper to the round table. +There he sat down and, with infinite patience, gummed the +fragments on to the card, fitting them together like the pieces of +a Chinese puzzle. + +The others over his shoulders could see spaced words, written in +pencil, taking shape as a sentence upon the card. Hanaud turned +abruptly in his seat toward Wethermill. + +"You have, no doubt, a letter written by Mlle. Celie?" + +Wethermill took his letter-case from his pocket and a letter out +of the case. He hesitated for a moment as he glanced over what was +written. The four sheets were covered. He folded back the letter, +so that only the two inner sheets were visible, and handed it to +Hanaud. Hanaud compared it with the handwriting upon the card. + +"Look!" he said at length, and the three men gathered behind him. +On the card the gummed fragments of paper revealed a sentence: + +"Je ne sais pas." + +"'I do not know,'" said Ricardo; "now this is very important." + +Beside the card Celia's letter to Wethermill was laid. + +"What do you think?" asked Hanaud. + +Besnard, the Commissaire of Police, bent over Hanaud's shoulder. + +"There are strong resemblances," he said guardedly. + +Ricardo was on the look-out for deep mysteries. Resemblances were +not enough for him; they were inadequate to the artistic needs of +the situation. + +"Both were written by the same hand," he said definitely; "only in +the sentence written upon the card the handwriting is carefully +disguised." + +"Ah!" said the Commissaire, bending forward again. "Here is an +idea! Yes, yes, there are strong differences." + +Ricardo looked triumphant. + +"Yes, there are differences," said Hanaud. "Look how long the up +stroke of the 'p' is, how it wavers! See how suddenly this 's' +straggles off, as though some emotion made the hand shake. Yet +this," and touching Wethermill's letter he smiled ruefully, "this +is where the emotion should have affected the pen." He looked up +at Wethermill's face and then said quietly: + +"You have given us no opinion, monsieur. Yet your opinion should +be the most valuable of all. Were these two papers written by the +same hand?" + +"I do not know," answered Wethermill. + +"And I, too," cried Hanaud, in a sudden exasperation, "je ne sais +pas. I do not know. It may be her hand carelessly counterfeited. +It may be her hand disguised. It may be simply that she wrote in a +hurry with her gloves on." + +"It may have been written some time ago," said Mr. Ricardo, +encouraged by his success to another suggestion. + +"No; that is the one thing it could not have been," said Hanaud. +"Look round the room. Was there ever a room better tended? Find me +a little pile of dust in any one corner if you can! It is all as +clean as a plate. Every morning, except this one morning, this +room has been swept and polished. The paper was written and torn +up yesterday." + +He enclosed the card in an envelope as he spoke, and placed it in +his pocket. Then he rose and crossed again to the settee. He stood +at the side of it, with his hands clutching the lapels of his coat +and his face gravely troubled. After a few moments of silence for +himself, of suspense for all the others who watched him, he +stooped suddenly. Slowly, and with extraordinary care, he pushed +his hands under the head-cushion and lifted it up gently, so that +the indentations of its surface might not be disarranged. He +carried it over to the light of the open window. The cushion was +covered with silk, and as he held it to the sunlight all could see +a small brown stain. + +Hanaud took his magnifying-glass from his pocket and bent his head +over the cushion. But at that moment, careful though he had been, +the down swelled up within the cushion, the folds and indentations +disappeared, the silk covering was stretched smooth. + +"Oh!" cried Besnard tragically. "What have you done?" + +Hanaud's face flushed. He had been guilty of a clumsiness--even +he. + +Mr. Ricardo took up the tale. + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "what have you done?" + +Hanaud looked at Ricardo in amazement at his audacity. + +"Well, what have I done?" he asked. "Come! tell me!" + +"You have destroyed a clue," replied Ricardo impressively. + +The deepest dejection at once overspread Hanaud's burly face. + +"Don't say that, M. Ricardo, I beseech you!" he implored. "A clue! +and I have destroyed it! But what kind of a clue? And how have I +destroyed it? And to what mystery would it be a clue if I hadn't +destroyed it? And what will become of me when I go back to Paris, +and say in the Rue de Jerusalem, 'Let me sweep the cellars, my +good friends, for M. Ricardo knows that I destroyed a clue. +Faithfully he promised me that he would not open his mouth, but I +destroyed a clue, and his perspicacity forced him into speech.'" + +It was the turn of M. Ricardo to grow red. + +Hanaud turned with a smile to Besnard. + +"It does not really matter whether the creases in this cushion +remain," he said, "we have all seen them." And he replaced the +glass in his pocket. + +He carried that cushion back and replaced it. Then he took the +other, which lay at the foot of the settee, and carried it in its +turn to the window. This was indented too, and ridged up, and just +at the marks the nap of the silk was worn, and there was a slit +where it had been cut. The perplexity upon Hanaud's face greatly +increased. He stood with the cushion in his hands, no longer +looking at it, but looking out through the doors at the footsteps +so clearly defined--the foot-steps of a girl who had run from this +room and sprung into a motor-car and driven away. He shook his +head, and, carrying back the cushion, laid it carefully down. Then +he stood erect, gazed about the room as though even yet he might +force its secrets out from its silence, and cried, with a sudden +violence: + +"There is something here, gentlemen, which I do not understand." + +Mr. Ricardo heard some one beside him draw a deep breath, and +turned. Wethermill stood at his elbow. A faint colour had come +back to his cheeks, his eyes were fixed intently upon Hanaud's +face. + +"What do you think?" he asked; and Hanaud replied brusquely: + +"It's not my business to hold opinions, monsieur; my business is +to make sure." + +There was one point, and only one, of which he had made every one +in that room sure. He had started confident. Here was a sordid +crime, easily understood. But in that room he had read something +which had troubled him, which had raised the sordid crime on to +some higher and perplexing level. + +"Then M. Fleuriot after all might be right?" asked the Commissaire +timidly. + +Hanaud stared at him for a second, then smiled. + +"L'affaire Dreyfus?" he cried. "Oh la, la, la! No, but there is +something else." + +What was that something? Ricardo asked himself. He looked once +more about the room. He did not find his answer, but he caught +sight of an ornament upon the wall which drove the question from +his mind. The ornament, if so it could be called, was a painted +tambourine with a bunch of bright ribbons tied to the rim; and it +was hung upon the wall between the settee and the fireplace at +about the height of a man's head. Of course it might be no more +than it seemed to be--a rather gaudy and vulgar toy, such as a +woman like Mme. Dauvray would be very likely to choose in order to +dress her walls. But it swept Ricardo's thoughts back of a sudden +to the concert-hall at Leamington and the apparatus of a +spiritualistic show. After all, he reflected triumphantly, Hanaud +had not noticed everything, and as he made the reflection Hanaud's +voice broke in to corroborate him. + +"We have seen everything here; let us go upstairs," he said. "We +will first visit the room of Mlle. Celie. Then we will question +the maid, Helene Vauquier." + +The four men, followed by Perrichet, passed out by the door into +the hall and mounted the stairs. Celia's room was in the southwest +angle of the villa, a bright and airy room, of which one window +overlooked the road, and two others, between which stood the +dressing-table, the garden. Behind the room a door led into a +little white-tiled bathroom. Some towels were tumbled upon the +floor beside the bath. In the bedroom a dark-grey frock of tussore +and a petticoat were flung carelessly on the bed; a big grey hat +of Ottoman silk was lying upon a chest of drawers in the recess of +a window; and upon a chair a little pile of fine linen and a pair +of grey silk stockings, which matched in shade the grey suede +shoes, were tossed in a heap. + +"It was here that you saw the light at half-past nine?" Hanaud +said, turning to Perrichet. + +"Yes, monsieur," replied Perrichet. + +"We may assume, then, that Mlle. Celie was changing her dress at +that time." + +Besnard was looking about him, opening a drawer here, a wardrobe +there. + +"Mlle. Celie," he said, with a laugh, "was a particular young +lady, and fond of her fine clothes, if one may judge from the room +and the order of the cupboards. She must have changed her dress +last night in an unusual hurry." + +There was about the whole room a certain daintiness, almost, it +seemed to Mr. Ricardo, a fragrance, as though the girl had +impressed something of her own delicate self upon it. Wethermill +stood upon the threshold watching with a sullen face the violation +of this chamber by the officers of the police. + +No such feelings, however, troubled Hanaud. He went over to the +dressing-room and opened a few small leather cases which held +Celia's ornaments. In one or two of them a trinket was visible; +others were empty. One of these latter Hanaud held open in his +hand, and for so long that Besnard moved impatiently. + +"You see it is empty, monsieur," he said, and suddenly Wethermill +moved forward into the room. + +"Yes, I see that," said Hanaud dryly. + +It was a case made to hold a couple of long ear-drops--those +diamond ear-drops, doubtless, which Mr. Ricardo had seen twinkling +in the garden. + +"Will monsieur let me see?" asked Wethermill, and he took the case +in his hands. "Yes," he said. "Mlle. Celie's ear-drops," and he +handed the case back with a thoughtful air. + +It was the first time he had taken a definite part in the +investigation. To Ricardo the reason was clear. Harry Wethermill +had himself given those ear-drops to Celia. Hanaud replaced the +case and turned round. + +"There is nothing more for us to see here," he said. "I suppose +that no one has been allowed to enter the room?" And he opened the +door. + +"No one except Helene Vauquier," replied the Commissaire. + +Ricardo felt indignant at so obvious a piece of carelessness. Even +Wethermill looked surprised. Hanaud merely shut the door again. + +"Oho, the maid!" he said. "Then she has recovered!" + +"She is still weak," said the Commissaire. "But I thought it was +necessary that we should obtain at once a description of what +Celie Harland wore when she left the house. I spoke to M. Fleuriot +about it, and he gave me permission to bring Helene Vauquier here, +who alone could tell us. I brought her here myself just before you +came. She looked through the girl's wardrobe to see what was +missing." + +"Was she alone in the room?" + +"Not for a moment," said M. Besnard haughtily. "Really, monsieur, +we are not so ignorant of how an affair of this kind should be +conducted. I was in the room myself the whole time, with my eye +upon her." + +"That was just before I came," said Hanaud. He crossed carelessly +to the open window which overlooked the road and, leaning out of +it, looked up the road to the corner round which he and his +friends had come, precisely as the Commissaire had done. Then he +turned back into the room. + +"Which was the last cupboard or drawer that Helene Vauquier +touched?" he asked. + +"This one." + +Besnard stooped and pulled open the bottom drawer of a chest which +stood in the embrasure of the window. A light-coloured dress was +lying at the bottom. + +"I told her to be quick," said Besnard, "since I had seen that you +were coming. She lifted this dress out and said that nothing was +missing there. So I took her back to her room and left her with +the nurse." + +Hanaud lifted the light dress from the drawer, shook it out in +front of the window, twirled it round, snatched up a corner of it +and held it to his eyes, and then, folding it quickly, replaced it +in the drawer. + +"Now show me the first drawer she touched." And this time he +lifted out a petticoat, and, taking it to the window, examined it +with a greater care. When he had finished with it he handed it to +Ricardo to put away, and stood for a moment or two thoughtful and +absorbed. Ricardo in his turn examined the petticoat. But he could +see nothing unusual. It was an attractive petticoat, dainty with +frills and lace, but it was hardly a thing to grow thoughtful +over. He looked up in perplexity and saw that Hanaud was watching +his investigations with a smile of amusement. + +"When M. Ricardo has put that away," he said, "we will hear what +Helene Vauquier has to tell us." + +He passed out of the door last, and, locking it, placed the key in +his pocket. + +"Helene Vauquier's room is, I think, upstairs," he said. And he +moved towards the staircase. + +But as he did so a man in plain clothes, who had been waiting upon +the landing, stepped forward. He carried in his hand a piece of +thin, strong whipcord. + +"Ah, Durette!" cried Besnard. "Monsieur Hanaud, I sent Durette +this morning round the shops of Aix with the cord which was found +knotted round Mme. Dauvray's neck." + +Hanaud advanced quickly to the man. + +"Well! Did you discover anything?" + +"Yes, monsieur," said Durette. "At the shop of M. Corval, in the +Rue du Casino, a young lady in a dark-grey frock and hat bought +some cord of this kind at a few minutes after nine last night. It +was just as the shop was being closed. I showed Corval the +photograph of Celie Harland which M. le Commissaire gave me out of +Mme. Dauvray's room, and he identified it as the portrait of the +girl who had bought the cord." + +Complete silence followed upon Durette's words. The whole party +stood like men stupefied. No one looked towards Wethermill; even +Hanaud averted his eyes. + +"Yes, that is very important," he said awkwardly. He turned away +and, followed by the others, went up the stairs to the bedroom of +Helene Vauquier. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HELENE VAUQUIER'S EVIDENCE + + +A nurse opened the door. Within the room Helene Vauquier was +leaning back in a chair. She looked ill, and her face was very +white. On the appearance of Hanaud, the Commissaire, and the +others, however, she rose to her feet. Ricardo recognised the +justice of Hanaud's description. She stood before them a hard- +featured, tall woman of thirty-five or forty, in a neat black +stuff dress, strong with the strength of a peasant, respectable, +reliable. She looked what she had been, the confidential maid of +an elderly woman. On her face there was now an aspect of eager +appeal. + +"Oh, monsieur!" she began, "let me go from here--anywhere--into +prison if you like. But to stay here--where in years past we were +so happy--and with madame lying in the room below. No, it is +insupportable." + +She sank into her chair, and Hanaud came over to her side. + +"Yes, yes," he said, in a soothing voice. "I can understand your +feelings, my poor woman. We will not keep you here. You have, +perhaps, friends in Aix with whom you could stay?" + +"Oh yes, monsieur!" Helene cried gratefully. "Oh, but I thank you! +That I should have to sleep here tonight! Oh, how the fear of that +has frightened me!" + +"You need have had no such fear. After all, we are not the +visitors of last night," said Hanaud, drawing a chair close to her +and patting her hand sympathetically. "Now, I want you to tell +these gentlemen and myself all that you know of this dreadful +business. Take your time, mademoiselle! We are human." + +"But, monsieur, I know nothing," she cried. "I was told that I +might go to bed as soon as I had dressed Mlle. Celie for the +seance." + +"Seance!" cried Ricardo, startled into speech. The picture of the +Assembly Hall at Leamington was again before his mind. But Hanaud +turned towards him, and, though Hanaud's face retained its +benevolent expression, there was a glitter in his eyes which sent +the blood into Ricardo's face. + +"Did you speak again, M. Ricardo?" the detective asked. "No? I +thought it was not possible." He turned back to Helene Vauquier. +"So Mlle. Celie practised seances. That is very strange. We will +hear about them. Who knows what thread may lead us to the truth?" + +Helene Vauquier shook her head. + +"Monsieur, it is not right that you should seek the truth from me. +For, consider this! I cannot speak with justice of Mlle. Celie. +No, I cannot! I did not like her. I was jealous--yes, jealous, +Monsieur, you want the truth--I hated her!" And the woman's face +flushed and she clenched her hand upon the arm of her chair. "Yes, +I hated her. How could I help it?" she asked. + +"Why?" asked Hanaud gently. "Why could you not help it?" + +Helene Vauquier leaned back again, her strength exhausted, and +smiled languidly. + +"I will tell you. But remember it is a woman speaking to you, and +things which you will count silly and trivial mean very much to +her. There was one night last June--only last June! To think of +it! So little while ago there was no Mlle. Celie--" and, as Hanaud +raised his hand, she said hurriedly, "Yes, yes; I will control +myself. But to think of Mme. Dauvray now!" + +And thereupon she blurted out her story and explained to Mr. +Ricardo the question which had so perplexed him: how a girl of so +much distinction as Celia Harland came to be living with a woman +of so common a type as Mme. Dauvray. + +"Well, one night in June," said Helene Vauquier, "madame went with +a party to supper at the Abbaye Restaurant in Montmartre. And she +brought home for the first time Mlle. Celie. But you should have +seen her! She had on a little plaid skirt and a coat which was +falling to pieces, and she was starving--yes, starving. Madame +told me the story that night as I undressed her. Mlle. Celie was +there dancing amidst the tables for a supper with any one who +would be kind enough to dance with her." + +The scorn of her voice rang through the room. She was the rigid, +respectable peasant woman, speaking out her contempt. And +Wethermill must needs listen to it. Ricardo dared not glance at +him. + +"But hardly any one would dance with her in her rags, and no one +would give her supper except madame. Madame did. Madame listened +to her story of hunger and distress. Madame believed it, and +brought her home. Madame was so kind, so careless in her kindness. +And now she lies murdered for a reward!" An hysterical sob checked +the woman's utterances, her face began to work, her hands to +twitch. + +"Come, come!" said Hanaud gently, "calm yourself, mademoiselle." + +Helene Vauquier paused for a moment or two to recover her +composure. "I beg your pardon, monsieur, but I have been so long +with madame--oh, the poor woman! Yes, yes, I will calm myself. +Well, madame brought her home, and in a week there was nothing too +good for Mlle. Celie. Madame was like a child. Always she was +being deceived and imposed upon. Never she learnt prudence. But no +one so quickly made her way to madame's heart as Mlle. Celie. +Mademoiselle must live with her. Mademoiselle must be dressed by +the first modistes. Mademoiselle must have lace petticoats and the +softest linen, long white gloves, and pretty ribbons for her hair, +and hats from Caroline Reboux at twelve hundred francs. And +madame's maid must attend upon her and deck her out in all these +dainty things. Bah!" + +Vauquier was sitting erect in her chair, violent, almost rancorous +with anger. She looked round upon the company and shrugged her +shoulders. + +"I told you not to come to me!" she said, "I cannot speak +impartially, or even gently of mademoiselle. Consider! For years I +had been more than madame's maid--her friend; yes, so she was kind +enough to call me. She talked to me about everything, consulted me +about everything, took me with her everywhere. Then she brings +home, at two o'clock in the morning, a young girl with a fresh, +pretty face, from a Montmartre restaurant, and in a week I am +nothing at all--oh, but nothing--and mademoiselle is queen." + +"Yes, it is quite natural," said Hanaud sympathetically. "You +would not have been human, mademoiselle, if you had not felt some +anger. But tell us frankly about these seances. How did they +begin?" + +"Oh, monsieur," Vauquier answered, "it was not difficult to begin +them. Mme. Dauvray had a passion for fortune-tellers and rogues of +that kind. Any one with a pack of cards and some nonsense about a +dangerous woman with black hair or a man with a limp--Monsieur +knows the stories they string together in dimly lighted rooms to +deceive the credulous--any one could make a harvest out of +madame's superstitions. But monsieur knows the type." + +"Indeed I do," said Hanaud, with a laugh. + +"Well, after mademoiselle had been with us three weeks, she said +to me one morning when I was dressing her hair that it was a pity +madame was always running round the fortune-tellers, that she +herself could do something much more striking and impressive, and +that if only I would help her we could rescue madame from their +clutches. Sir, I did not think what power I was putting into Mlle. +Celie's hands, or assuredly I would have refused. And I did not +wish to quarrel with Mlle. Celie; so for once I consented, and, +having once consented, I could never afterwards refuse, for, if I +had, mademoiselle would have made some fine excuse about the +psychic influence not being en rapport, and meanwhile would have +had me sent away. While if I had confessed the truth to madame, +she would have been so angry that I had been a party to tricking +her that again I would have lost my place. And so the seances went +on." + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "I understand that your position was very +difficult. We shall not, I think," and he turned to the +Commissaire confidently for corroboration of his words, "be +disposed to blame you." + +"Certainly not," said the Commissaire. "After all, life is not so +easy." + +"Thus, then, the seances began," said Hanaud, leaning forward with +a keen interest. "This is a strange and curious story you are +telling me, Mlle. Vauquier. Now, how were they conducted? How did +you assist? What did Mlle. Celie do? Rap on the tables in the dark +and rattle tambourines like that one with the knot of ribbons +which hangs upon the wall of the salon?" + +There was a gentle and inviting irony in Hanaud's tone. M. Ricardo +was disappointed. Hanaud had after all not overlooked the +tambourine. Without Ricardo's reason to notice it, he had none the +less observed it and borne it in his memory. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Oh, monsieur, the tambourines and the rapping on the table!" +cried Helene. "That was nothing--oh, but nothing at all. +Mademoiselle Celie would make spirits appear and speak!" + +"Really! And she was never caught out! But Mlle. Celie must have +been a remarkably clever girl." + +"Oh, she was of an address which was surprising. Sometimes madame +and I were alone. Sometimes there were others, whom madame in her +pride had invited. For she was very proud, monsieur, that her +companion could introduce her to the spirits of dead people. But +never was Mlle. Celie caught out. She told me that for many years, +even when quite a child, she had travelled through England giving +these exhibitions." + +"Oho!" said Hanaud, and he turned to Wethermill. "Did you know +that?" he asked in English. + +"I did not," he said. "I do not now." + +Hanaud shook his head. + +"To me this story does not seem invented," he replied. And then he +spoke again in French to Helene Vauquier. "Well, continue, +mademoiselle! Assume that the company is assembled for our +seance." + +"Then Mlle. Celie, dressed in a long gown of black velvet, which +set off her white arms and shoulders well--oh, mademoiselle did +not forget those little trifles," Helene Vauquier interrupted her +story, with a return of her bitterness, to interpolate-- +"mademoiselle would sail into the room with her velvet train +flowing behind her, and perhaps for a little while she would say +there was a force working against her, and she would sit silent in +a chair while madame gaped at her with open eyes. At last +mademoiselle would say that the powers were favourable and the +spirits would manifest themselves to night. Then she would be +placed in a cabinet, perhaps with a string tied across the door +outside--you will understand it was my business to see after the +string--and the lights would be turned down, or perhaps out +altogether. Or at other times we would sit holding hands round a +table, Mlle. Celie between Mme. Dauvray and myself. But in that +case the lights would be turned out first, and it would be really +my hand which held Mme. Dauvray's. And whether it was the cabinet +or the chairs, in a moment mademoiselle would be creeping silently +about the room in a little pair of soft-soled slippers without +heels, which she wore so that she might not be heard, and +tambourines would rattle as you say, and fingers touch the +forehead and the neck, and strange voices would sound from corners +of the room, and dim apparitions would appear--the spirits of +great ladies of the past, who would talk with Mme. Dauvray. Such +ladies as Mme. de Castiglione, Marie Antoinette, Mme. de Medici--I +do not remember all the names, and very likely I do not pronounce +them properly. Then the voices would cease and the lights be +turned up, and Mlle. Celie would be found in a trance just in the +same place and attitude as she had been when the lights were +turned out. Imagine, messieurs, the effect of such seances upon a +woman like Mme. Dauvray. She was made for them. She believed in +them implicitly. The words of the great ladies from the past--she +would remember and repeat them, and be very proud that such great +ladies had come back to the world merely to tell her--Mme. +Dauvray--about their lives. She would have had seances all day, +but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at the end of +them. But Mlle. Celie was of an address! For instance--it will +seem very absurd and ridiculous to you, gentlemen, but you must +remember what Mme. Dauvray was--for instance, madame was +particularly anxious to speak with the spirit of Mme. de +Montespan. Yes, yes! She had read all the memoirs about that lady. +Very likely Mlle. Celie had put the notion into Mme. Dauvray's +head, for madame was not a scholar. But she was dying to hear that +famous woman's voice and to catch a dim glimpse of her face. Well, +she was never gratified. Always she hoped. Always Mlle. Celie +tantalised her with the hope. But she would not gratify it. She +would not spoil her fine affairs by making these treats too +common. And she acquired--how should she not?--a power over Mme. +Dauvray which was unassailable. The fortune-tellers had no more to +say to Mme. Dauvray. She did nothing but felicitate herself upon +the happy chance which had sent her Mlle. Celie. And now she lies +in her room murdered!" + +Once more Helene's voice broke upon the words. But Hanaud poured +her out a glass of water and held it to her lips. Helene drank it +eagerly. + +"There, that is better, is it not?" he said. + +"Yes, monsieur," said Helene Vauquier, recovering herself. +"Sometimes, too," she resumed, "messages from the spirits would +flutter down in writing on the table." + +"In writing?" exclaimed Hanaud quickly. + +"Yes; answers to questions. Mlle. Celie had them ready. Oh, but +she was of an address altogether surprising. + +"I see," said Hanaud slowly; and he added, "But sometimes, I +suppose, the questions were questions which Mlle. Celie could not +answer?" + +"Sometimes," Helene Vauquier admitted, "when visitors were +present. When Mme. Dauvray was alone--well, she was an ignorant +woman, and any answer would serve. But it was not so when there +were visitors whom Mlle. Celie did not know, or only knew +slightly. These visitors might be putting questions to test her, +of which they knew the answers, while Mlle. Celie did not." + +"Exactly," said Hanaud. "What happened then?" + +All who were listening understood to what point he was leading +Helene Vauquier. All waited intently for her answer. + +She smiled. + +"It was all one to Mlle. Celie." + +"She was prepared with an escape from the difficulty?" + +"Perfectly prepared." + +Hanaud looked puzzled. + +"I can think of no way out of it except the one," and he looked +round to the Commissaire and to Ricardo as though he would inquire +of them how many ways they had discovered. "I can think of no +escape except that a message in writing should flutter down from +the spirit appealed to saying frankly," and Hanaud shrugged his +shoulders, "'I do not know.'" + +"Oh no no, monsieur," replied Helene Vauquier in pity for Hanaud's +misconception, "I see that you are not in the habit of attending +seances. It would never do for a spirit to admit that it did not +know. At once its authority would be gone, and with it Mlle. +Celie's as well. But on the other hand, for inscrutable reasons +the spirit might not be allowed to answer." + +"I understand," said Hanaud, meekly accepting the correction. "The +spirit might reply that it was forbidden to answer, but never that +it did not know." + +"No, never that," [agreed] Helene. So it seemed that Hanaud must +look elsewhere for the explanation of that sentence. "I do not +know." Helene continued: "Oh, Mlle. Celie--it was not easy to +baffle her, I can tell you. She carried a lace scarf which she +could drape about her head, and in a moment she would be, in the +dim light, an old, old woman, with a voice so altered that no one +could know it. Indeed, you said rightly, monsieur--she was +clever." + +To all who listened Helene Vauquier's story carried its +conviction. Mme. Dauvray rose vividly before their minds as a +living woman. Celie's trickeries were so glibly described that +they could hardly have been invented, and certainly not by this +poor peasant-woman whose lips so bravely struggled with Medici, +and Montespan, and the names of the other great ladies. How, +indeed, should she know of them at all? She could never have had +the inspiration to concoct the most convincing item of her story-- +the queer craze of Mme. Dauvray for an interview with Mme. de +Montespan. These details were assuredly the truth. + +Ricardo, indeed, knew them to be true. Had he not himself seen the +girl in her black velvet dress shut up in a cabinet, and a great +lady of the past dimly appear in the darkness? Moreover, Helene +Vauquier's jealousy was so natural and inevitable a thing. Her +confession of it corroborated all her story. + +"Well, then," said Hanaud, "we come to last night. There was a +seance held in the salon last night." + +"No, monsieur," said Vauquier, shaking her head; "there was no +seance last night." + +"But already you have said--" interrupted the Commissaire; and +Hanaud held up his hand. + +"Let her speak, my friend." + +"Yes, monsieur shall hear," said Vauquier. + +It appeared that at five o'clock in the afternoon Mme. Dauvray and +Mlle. Celie prepared to leave the house on foot. It was their +custom to walk down at this hour to the Villa des Fleurs, pass an +hour or so there, dine in a restaurant, and return to the Rooms to +spend the evening. On this occasion, however, Mme. Dauvray +informed Helene that they should be back early and bring with them +a friend who was interested in, but entirely sceptical of, +spiritualistic manifestations. "But we shall convince her tonight, +Celie, "she said confidently; and the two women then went out. +Shortly before eight Helene closed the shutters both of the +upstair and the downstair windows and of the glass doors into the +garden, and returned to the kitchen, which was at the back of the +house--that is, on the side facing the road. There had been a fall +of rain at seven which had lasted for the greater part of the +hour, and soon after she had shut the windows the rain fell again +in a heavy shower, and Helene, knowing that madame felt the chill, +lighted a small fire in the salon. The shower lasted until nearly +nine, when it ceased altogether and the night cleared up. + +It was close upon half-past nine when the bell rang from the +salon. Vauquier was sure of the hour, for the charwoman called her +attention to the clock. + +"I found Mme. Dauvray, Mlle Celie, and another woman in the +salon," continued Helene Vauquier. + +"Madame had let them in with her latchkey." + +"Ah, the other woman!" cried Besnard. "Had you seen her before?" + +"No, monsieur." + +"What was she like?" + +"She was sallow, with black hair and bright eyes like beads. She +was short and about forty-five years old, though it is difficult +to judge of these things. I noticed her hands, for she was taking +her gloves off, and they seemed to me to be unusually muscular for +a woman." + +"Ah!" cried Louis Besnard. "That is important." + +"Mme. Dauvray was, as she always was before a seance, in a +feverish flutter. 'You will help Mlle. Celie to dress, Helene, and +be very quick,' she said; and with an extraordinary longing she +added, 'Perhaps we shall see her tonight.' Her, you understand, +was Mme. de Montespan. And she turned to the stranger and said, +"You will believe, Adele, after tonight." + +"Adele!" said the Commissaire wisely. "Then Adele was the strange +woman's name?" + +"Perhaps," said Hanaud dryly. + +Helene Vauquier reflected. + +"I think Adele was the name," she said in a more doubtful tone. +"It sounded like Adele." + +The irrepressible Mr. Ricardo was impelled to intervene. + +"What Monsieur Hanaud means," he explained, with the pleasant air +of a man happy to illuminate the dark intelligence of a child, "is +that Adele was probably a pseudonym." + +Hanaud turned to him with a savage grin. + +"Now that is sure to help her!" he cried. "A pseudonym! Helene +Vauquier is sure to understand that simple and elementary word. +How bright this M. Ricardo is! Where shall we find a new pin more +bright? I ask you," and he spread out his hands in a despairing +admiration. + +Mr. Ricardo flushed red, but he answered never a word. He must +endure gibes and humiliations like a schoolboy in a class. His one +constant fear was lest he should be turned out of the room. The +Commissaire diverted wrath from him however. + +"What he means by pseudonym," he said to Helene Vauquier, +explaining Mr. Ricardo to her as Mr. Ricardo had presumed to +explain Hanaud, "is a false name. Adele may have been, nay, +probably was, a false name adopted by this strange woman." + +"Adele, I think, was the name used," replied Helene, the doubt in +her voice diminishing as she searched her memory. "I am almost +sure." + +"Well, we will call her Adele," said Hanaud impatiently. "What +does it matter? Go on, Mademoiselle Vauquier." + +"The lady sat upright and squarely upon the edge of a chair, with +a sort of defiance, as though she was determined nothing should +convince her, and she laughed incredulously." + +Here, again, all who heard were able vividly to conjure up the +scene--the defiant sceptic sitting squarely on the edge of her +chair, removing her gloves from her muscular hands; the excited +Mme. Dauvray, so absorbed in the determination to convince; and +Mlle. Celie running from the room to put on the black gown which +would not be visible in the dim light. + +"Whilst I took off mademoiselle's dress," Vauquier continued, "she +said: 'When I have gone down to the salon you can go to bed, +Helene. Mme. Adele'--yes, it was Adele--'will be fetched by a +friend in a motorcar, and I can let her out and fasten the door +again. So if you hear the car you will know that it has come for +her.'" + +"Oh, she said that!" said Hanaud quickly. + +"Yes, monsieur." + +Hanaud looked gloomily towards Wethermill. Then he exchanged a +sharp glance with the Commissaire, and moved his shoulders in an +almost imperceptible shrug. But Mr. Ricardo saw it, and construed +it into one word. He imagined a jury uttering the word "Guilty." + +Helene Vauquier saw the movement too. + +"Do not condemn her too quickly, monsieur," she, said, with an +impulse of remorse. "And not upon my words. For, as I say, I-- +hated her." + +Hanaud nodded reassuringly, and she resumed: + +"I was surprised, and I asked mademoiselle what she would do +without her confederate. But she laughed, and said there would be +no difficulty. That is partly why I think there was no seance held +last night. Monsieur, there was a note in her voice that evening +which I did not as yet understand. Mademoiselle then took her bath +while I laid out her black dress and the slippers with the soft, +noiseless soles. And now I tell you why I am sure there was no +seance last night--why Mlle. Celie never meant there should be +one." + +"Yes, let us hear that," said Hanaud curiously, and leaning +forward with his hands upon his knees. + +"You have here, monsieur, a description of how mademoiselle was +dressed when she went away." Helene Vauquier picked up a sheet of +paper from the table at her side. "I wrote it out at the request +of M. le Commissaire." She handed the paper to Hanaud, who glanced +through it as she continued. "Well, except for the white lace +coat, monsieur, I dressed Mlle. Celie just in that way. She would +have none of her plain black robe. No, Mlle. Celie must wear her +fine new evening frock of pale reseda-green chiffon over soft +clinging satin, which set off her fair beauty so prettily. It left +her white arms and shoulders bare, and it had a long train, and it +rustled as she moved. And with that she must put on her pale green +silk stockings, her new little satin slippers to match, with the +large paste buckles--and a sash of green satin looped through +another glittering buckle at the side of the waist, with long ends +loosely knotted together at the knee. I must tie her fair hair +with a silver ribbon, and pin upon her curls a large hat of reseda +green with a golden-brown ostrich feather drooping behind. I +warned mademoiselle that there was a tiny fire burning in the +salon. Even with the fire-screen in front of it there would still +be a little light upon the floor, and the glittering buckles on +her feet would betray her, even if the rustle of her dress did +not. But she said she would kick her slippers off. Ah, gentlemen, +it is, after all, not so that one dresses for a seance," she +cried, shaking her head. "But it is just so--is it not?--that one +dresses to go to meet a lover." + +The suggestion startled every one who heard it. It fairly took Mr. +Ricardo's breath away. Wethermill stepped forward with a cry of +revolt. The Commissaire exclaimed, admiringly, "But here is an +idea!" Even Hanaud sat back in his chair, though his expression +lost nothing of its impassivity, and his eyes never moved from +Helene Vauquier's face. + +"Listen!" she continued, "I will tell you what I think. It was my +habit to put out some sirop and lemonade and some little cakes in +the dining-room, which, as you know, is at the other side of the +house across the hall. I think it possible, messieurs, that while +Mlle. Celie was changing her dress Mme. Dauvray and the stranger, +Adele, went into the dining-room. I know that Mlle. Celie, as soon +as she was dressed, ran downstairs to the salon. Well, then, +suppose Mlle. Celie had a lover waiting with whom she meant to run +away. She hurries through the empty salon, opens the glass doors, +and is gone, leaving the doors open. And the thief, an accomplice +of Adele, finds the doors open and hides himself in the salon +until Mme. Dauvray returns from the dining-room. You see, that +leaves Mlle. Celie innocent." + +Vauquier leaned forward eagerly, her white face flushing. There +was a moment's silence, and then Hanaud said: + +"That is all very well, Mlle. Vauquier. But it does not account +for the lace coat in which the girl went away. She must have +returned to her room to fetch that after you had gone to bed." + +Helene Vauquier leaned back with an air of disappointment. + +"That is true. I had forgotten the coat. I did not like Mlle. +Celie, but I am not wicked--" + +"Nor for the fact that the sirop and the lemonade had not been +touched in the dining-room," said the Commissaire, interrupting +her. + +Again the disappointment overspread Vauquier's face. + +"Is that so?" she asked. "I did not know--I have been kept a +prisoner here." + +The Commissaire cut her short with a cry of satisfaction. + +"Listen! listen!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Here is a theory which +accounts for all, which combines Vauquier's idea with ours, and +Vauquier's idea is, I think, very just, up to a point. Suppose, M. +Hanaud, that the girl was going to meet her lover, but the lover +is the murderer. Then all becomes clear. She does not run away to +him; she opens the door for him and lets him in." + +Both Hanaud and Ricardo stole a glance at Wethermill. How did he +take the theory? Wethermill was leaning against the wall, his eyes +closed, his face white and contorted with a spasm of pain. But he +had the air of a man silently enduring an outrage rather than +struck down by the conviction that the woman he loved was +worthless. + +"It is not for me to say, monsieur," Helene Vauquier continued. "I +only tell you what I know. I am a woman, and it would be very +difficult for a girl who was eagerly expecting her lover so to act +that another woman would not know it. However uncultivated and +ignorant the other woman was, that at all events she would know. +The knowledge would spread to her of itself, without a word. +Consider, gentlemen!" And suddenly Helene Vauquier smiled. "A +young girl tingling with excitement from head to foot, eager that +her beauty just at this moment should be more fresh, more sweet +than ever it was, careful that her dress should set it exquisitely +off. Imagine it! Her lips ready for the kiss! Oh, how should +another woman not know? I saw Mlle. Celie, her cheeks rosy, her +eyes bright. Never had she looked so lovely. The pale-green hat +upon her fair head heavy with its curls! From head to foot she +looked herself over, and then she sighed--she sighed with pleasure +because she looked so pretty. That was Mlle. Celie last night, +monsieur. She gathered up her train, took her long white gloves in +the other hand, and ran down the stairs, her heels clicking on the +wood, her buckles glittering. At the bottom she turned and said to +me: + +"'Remember, Helene, you can go to bed.' That was it monsieur." + +And now violently the rancour of Helene Vauquier's feelings burst +out once more. + +"For her the fine clothes, the pleasure, and the happiness. For +me--I could go to bed!" + +Hanaud looked again at the description which Helene Vauquier had +written out, and read it through carefully. Then he asked a +question, of which Ricardo did not quite see the drift. + +"So," he said, "when this morning you suggested to Monsieur the +Commissaire that it would be advisable for you to go through Mlle. +Celie's wardrobe, you found that nothing more had been taken away +except the white lace coat?" + +"That is so." + +"Very well. Now, after Mlle. Celie had gone down the stairs--" + +"I put the lights out in her room and, as she had ordered me to +do, I went to bed. The next thing that I remember--but no! It +terrifies me too much to think of it." + +Helene shuddered and covered her face spasmodically with her +hands. Hanaud drew her hands gently down. + +"Courage! You are safe now, mademoiselle. Calm yourself!" + +She lay back with her eyes closed. + +"Yes, yes; it is true. I am safe now. But oh! I feel I shall never +dare to sleep again!" And the tears swam in her eyes. "I woke up +with a feeling of being suffocated. Mon Dieu! There was the light +burning in the room, and a woman, the strange woman with the +strong hands, was holding me down by the shoulders, while a man +with his cap drawn over his eyes and a little black moustache +pressed over my lips a pad from which a horribly sweet and sickly +taste filled my mouth. Oh, I was terrified! I could not scream. I +struggled. The woman told me roughly to keep quiet. But I could +not. I must struggle. And then with a brutality unheard of she +dragged me up on to my knees while the man kept the pad right over +my mouth. The man, with the arm which was free, held me close to +him, and she bound my hands with a cord behind me. Look!" + +She held out her wrists. They were terribly bruised. Red and angry +lines showed where the cord had cut deeply into her flesh. + +"Then they flung me down again upon my back, and the next thing I +remember is the doctor standing over me and this kind nurse +supporting me." + +She sank back exhausted in her chair and wiped her forehead with +her handkerchief. The sweat stood upon it in beads. + +"Thank you, mademoiselle," said Hanaud gravely. "This has been a +trying ordeal for you. I understand that. But we are coming to the +end. I want you to read this description of Mlle. Celie through +again to make sure that nothing is omitted." He gave the paper +into the maid's hands. "It will be advertised, so it is important +that it should be complete. See that you have left out nothing." + +Helene Vauquier bent her head over the paper. + +"No," said Helene at last. "I do not think I have omitted +anything." And she handed the paper back. + +"I asked you," Hanaud continued suavely, "because I understand +that Mlle. Celie usually wore a pair of diamond ear-drops, and +they are not mentioned here." + +A faint colour came into the maid's face. + +"That is true, monsieur. I had forgotten. It is quite true." + +"Any one might forget," said Hanaud, with a reassuring smile. "But +you will remember now. Think! think! Did Mlle. Celie wear them +last night?" He leaned forward, waiting for her reply. Wethermill +too, made a movement. Both men evidently thought the point of +great importance. The maid looked at Hanaud for a few moments +without speaking. + +"It is not from me, mademoiselle, that you will get the answer," +said Hanaud quietly. + +"No, monsieur. I was thinking," said the maid, her face flushing +at the rebuke. + +"Did she wear them when she went down the stairs last night?" he +insisted. + +"I think she wore them," she said doubtfully. Ye-es--yes," and the +words came now firm and clear. "I remember well. Mlle. Celie had +taken them off before her bath, and they lay on the dressing- +table. She put them into her ears while I dressed her hair and +arranged the bow of ribbon in it." + +"Then we will add the earrings to your description," said Hanaud, +as he rose from his chair with the paper in his hand, "and for the +moment we need not trouble you any more about Mademoiselle Celie." +He folded the paper up, slipped it into his letter-case, and put +it away in his pocket. "Let us consider that poor Madame Dauvray! +Did she keep much money in the house?" + +"No, monsieur; very little. She was well known in Aix and her +cheques were everywhere accepted without question. It was a high +pleasure to serve madame, her credit was so good," said Helene +Vauquier, raising her head as though she herself had a share in +the pride of that good credit. + +"No doubt," Hanaud agreed. "There are many fine households where +the banking account is overdrawn, and it cannot be pleasant for +the servants." + +"They are put to so many shifts to hide it from the servants of +their neighbours," said Helene. "Besides," and she made a little +grimace of contempt, "a fine household and an overdrawn banking +account--it is like a ragged petticoat under a satin dress. That +was never the case with Madame Dauvray." + +"So that she was under no necessity to have ready money always in +her pocket," said Hanaud. "I understand that. But at times perhaps +she won at the Villa des Fleurs?" + +Helene Vauquier shook her head. + +"She loved the Villa des Fleurs, but she never played for high +sums and often never played at all. If she won a few louis, she +was as delighted with her gains and as afraid to lose them again +at the tables as if she were of the poorest, and she stopped at +once. No, monsieur; twenty or thirty louis--there was never more +than that in the house." + +"Then it was certainly for her famous collection of jewellery that +Madame Dauvray was murdered?" + +"Certainly, monsieur." + +"Now, where did she keep her jewellery?" + +"In a safe in her bedroom, monsieur. Every night she took off what +she had been wearing and locked it up with the rest. She was never +too tired for that." + +"And what did she do with the keys?" + +"That I cannot tell you. Certainly she locked her rings and +necklaces away whilst I undressed her. And she laid the keys upon +the dressing-table or the mantel-shelf--anywhere. But in the +morning the keys were no longer where she had left them. She had +put them secretly away." + +Hanaud turned to another point. + +"I suppose that Mademoiselle Celie knew of the safe and that the +jewels were kept there?" + +"Oh yes! Mademoiselle indeed was often in Madame Dauvray's room +when she was dressing or undressing. She must often have seen +madame take them out and lock them up again. But then, monsieur, +so did I." + +Hanaud nodded to her with a friendly smile. + +"Thank you once more, mademoiselle," he said. "The torture is +over. But of course Monsieur Fleuriot will require your presence." + +Helene Vauquier looked anxiously towards him. + +"But meanwhile I can go from this villa, monsieur?" she pleaded, +with a trembling voice. + +"Certainly; you shall go to your friends at once." + +"Oh, monsieur, thank you!" she cried, and suddenly she gave way. +The tears began to flow from her eyes. She buried her face in her +hands and sobbed. "It is foolish of me, but what would you?" She +jerked out the words between her sobs. "It has been too terrible." + +"Yes, yes," said Hanaud soothingly. "The nurse will put a few +things together for you in a bag. You will not leuve Aix, of +course, and I will send some one with you to your friends." + +The maid started violently. + +"Oh, not a sergent-de-ville, monsieur, I beg of you. I should be +disgraced." + +"No. It shall be a man in plain clothes, to see that you are not +hindered by reporters on the way." + +Hanaud turned towards the door. On the dressing-table a cord was +lying. He took it up and spoke to the nurse. + +"Was this the cord with which Helene Vauquier's hands were tied?" + +"Yes, monsieur," she replied. + +Hanaud handed it to the Commissaire. + +"It will be necessary to keep that," he said. + +It was a thin piece of strong whipcord. It was the same kind of +cord as that which had been found tied round Mme. Dauvray's +throat. Hanaud opened the door and turned back to the nurse. + +"We will send for a cab for Mlle. Vauquier. You will drive with +her to her door. I think after that she will need no further help. +Pack up a few things and bring them down. Mlle. Vauquier can +follow, no doubt, now without assistance." And, with a friendly +nod, he left the room. + +Ricardo had been wondering, through the examination, in what light +Hanaud considered Helene Vauquier. He was sympathetic, but the +sympathy might merely have been assumed to deceive. His questions +betrayed in no particular the colour of his mind. Now, however, he +made himself clear. He informed the nurse, in the plainest +possible way, that she was no longer to act as jailer. She was to +bring Vauquier's things down; but Vauquier could follow by +herself. Evidently Helene Vauquier was cleared. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A STARTLING DISCOVERY + + +Harry Wethermill, however, was not so easily satisfied. + +"Surely, monsieur, it would be well to know whither she is going," +he said, "and to make sure that when she has gone there she will +stay there--until we want her again?" + +Hanaud looked at the young man pityingly. + +"I can understand, monsieur, that you hold strong views about +Helene Vauquier. You are human, like the rest of us. And what she +has said to us just now would not make you more friendly. But-- +but--" and he preferred to shrug his shoulders rather than to +finish in words his sentence. "However," he said, "we shall take +care to know where Helene Vauquier is staying. Indeed, if she is +at all implicated in this affair we shall learn more if we leave +her free than if we keep her under lock and key. You see that if +we leave her quite free, but watch her very, very carefully, so as +to awaken no suspicion, she may be emboldened to do something +rash--or the others may." + +Mr. Ricardo approved of Hanaud's reasoning. + +"That is quite true," he said. "She might write a letter." + +"Yes, or receive one," added Hanaud, "which would be still more +satisfactory for us--supposing, of course, that she has anything +to do with this affair"; and again he shrugged his shoulders. He +turned towards the Commissaire. + +"You have a discreet officer whom you can trust?" he asked. + +"Certainly. A dozen." + +"I want only one." + +"And here he is," said the Commissaire. + +They were descending the stairs. On the landing of the first floor +Durette, the man who had discovered where the cord was bought, was +still waiting. Hanaud took Durette by the sleeve in the familiar +way which he so commonly used and led him to the top of the +stairs, where the two men stood for a few moments apart. It was +plain that Hanaud was giving, Durette receiving, definite +instructions. Durette descended the stairs; Hanaud came back to +the others. + +"I have told him to fetch a cab," he said, "and convey Helene +Vauquier to her friends." Then he looked at Ricardo, and from +Ricardo to the Commissaire, while he rubbed his hand backwards and +forwards across his shaven chin. + +"I tell you," he said, "I find this sinister little drama very +interesting to me. The sordid, miserable struggle for mastery in +this household of Mme. Dauvray--eh? Yes, very interesting. Just as +much patience, just as much effort, just as much planning for this +small end as a general uses to defeat an army--and, at the last, +nothing gained. What else is politics? Yes, very interesting." + +His eyes rested upon Wethermill's face for a moment, but they gave +the young man no hope. He took a key from his pocket + +"We need not keep this room locked," he said. "We know all that +there is to be known." And he inserted the key into the lock of +Celia's room and turned it. + +"But is that wise, monsieur?" said Besnard. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +"The case is in your hands," said the Commissaire. To Ricardo the +proceedings seemed singularly irregular. But if the Commissaire +was content, it was not for him to object. + +"And where is my excellent friend Perrichet?" asked Hanaud; and +leaning over the balustrade he called him up from the hall. + +"We will now," said Hanaud, "have a glance into this poor murdered +woman's room." + +The room was opposite to Celia's. Besnard produced the key and +unlocked the door. Hanaud took off his hat upon the threshold and +then passed into the room with his companions. Upon the bed, +outlined under a sheet, lay the rigid form of Mme. Dauvray. Hanaud +stepped gently to the bedside and reverently uncovered the face. +For a moment all could see it--livid, swollen, unhuman. + +"A brutal business," he said in a low voice, and when he turned +again to his companions his face was white and sickly. He replaced +the sheet and gazed about the room. + +It was decorated and furnished in the same style as the salon +downstairs, yet the contrast between the two rooms was remarkable. + +Downstairs, in the salon, only a chair had been overturned. Here +there was every sign of violence and disorder. An empty safe stood +open in one corner; the rugs upon the polished floor had been +tossed aside; every drawer had been torn open, every wardrobe +burst; the very bed had been moved from its position. + +"It was in this safe that Madame Dauvray hid her jewels each +night," said the Commissaire as Hanaud gazed about the room. + +"Oh, was it so?" Hanaud asked slowly. It seemed to Ricardo that he +read something in the aspect of this room too, which troubled his +mind and increased his perplexity. + +"Yes," said Besnard confidently. "Every night Mme. Dauvray locked +her jewels away in this safe. Vauquier told us so this morning. +Every night she was never too tired for that. Besides, here"--and +putting his hand into the safe he drew out a paper--" here is the +list of Mme. Dauvray's jewellery." + +Plainly, however, Hanaud was not satisfied. He took the list and +glanced through the items. But his thoughts were not concerned +with it. + +"If that is so," he said slowly, "Mme Dauvray kept her jewels in +this safe, why has every drawer been ransacked, why was the bed +moved? Perrichet, lock the door--quietly--from the inside. That is +right. Now lean your back against it." + +Hanaud waited until he saw Perrichet's broad back against the +door. Then he went down upon his knees, and, tossing the rugs here +and there, examined with the minutest care the inlaid floor. By +the side of the bed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread. This in +its turn he moved quickly aside. He bent his eyes to the ground, +lay prone, moved this way and that to catch the light upon the +floor, then with a spring he rose upon his knees. He lifted his +finger to his lips. In a dead silence he drew a pen-knife quickly +from his pocket and opened it. He bent down again and inserted the +blade between the cracks of the blocks. The three men in the room +watched him with an intense excitement. A block of wood rose from +the floor, he pulled it out, laid it noiselessly down, and +inserted his hand into the opening. + +Wethermill at Ricardo's elbow uttered a stifled cry. "Hush!" +whispered Hanaud angrily. He drew out his hand again. It was +holding a green leather jewel-case. He opened it, and a diamond +necklace flashed its thousand colours in their faces. He thrust in +his hand again and again and again, and each time that be withdrew +it, it held a jewel-case. Before the astonished eyes of his +companions he opened them. Ropes of pearls, collars of diamonds, +necklaces of emeralds, rings of pigeon-blood rubies, bracelets of +gold studded with opals-Mme. Dauvray's various jewellery was +disclosed. + +"But that is astounding," said Besnard, in an awe-struck voice. + +"Then she was never robbed after all?" cried Ricardo. + +Hanaud rose to his feet. + +"What a piece of irony!" he whispered. "The poor woman is murdered +for her jewels, the room's turned upside down, and nothing is +found. For all the while they lay safe in this cache. Nothing is +taken except what she wore. Let us see what she wore." + +"Only a few rings, Helene Vauquier thought," said Besnard. "But +she was not sure." + +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Well, let us make sure!" and, taking the list +from the safe, he compared it with the jewellery in the cases on +the floor, ticking off the items one by one. When he had finished +he knelt down again, and, thrusting his hand into the hole, felt +carefully about. + +"There is a pearl necklace missing," he said. "A valuable +necklace, from the description in the list and some rings. She +must have been wearing them;" and he sat back upon his heels. "We +will send the intelligent Perrichet for a bag," he said, "and we +will counsel the intelligent Perrichet not to breathe a word to +any living soul of what he has seen in this room. Then we will +seal up in the bag the jewels, and we will hand it over to M. le +Commissaire, who will convey it with the greatest secrecy out of +this villa. For the list--I will keep it," and he placed it +carefully in his pocket-book. + +He unlocked the door and went out himself on to the landing. He +looked down the stairs and up the stairs; then he beckoned +Perrichet to him. + +"Go!" he whispered. "Be quick, and when you come back hide the bag +carefully under your coat." + +Perrichet went down the stairs with pride written upon his face. +Was he not assisting the great M. Hanaud from the Surete in Paris? +Hanaud returned into Mme. Dauvray's room and closed the door. He +looked into the eyes of his companions. + +"Can't you see the scene?" he asked with a queer smile of +excitement. He had forgotten Wethermill; he had forgotten even the +dead woman shrouded beneath the sheet. He was absorbed. His eyes +were bright, his whole face vivid with life. Ricardo saw the real +man at this moment--and feared for the happiness of Harry +Wethermill. For nothing would Hanaud now turn aside until he had +reached the truth and set his hands upon the quarry. Of that +Ricardo felt sure. He was trying now to make his companions +visualise just what he saw and understood. + +"Can't you see it? The old woman locking up her jewels in this +safe every night before the eyes of her maid or her companion, and +then, as soon as she was alone, taking them stealthily out of the +safe and hiding them in this secret place. But I tell you--this is +human. Yes, it is interesting just because it is so human. Then +picture to yourselves last night, the murderers opening this safe +and finding nothing--oh, but nothing!--and ransacking the room in +deadly haste, kicking up the rugs, forcing open the drawers, and +always finding nothing--nothing--nothing. Think of their rage, +their stupefaction, and finally their fear! They must go, and with +one pearl necklace, when they had hoped to reap a great fortune. +Oh, but this is interesting--yes, I tell you--I, who have seen +many strange things--this is interesting." + +Perrichet returned with a canvas bag, into which Hanaud placed the +jewel-cases. He sealed the bag in the presence of the four men and +handed it to Besnard. He replaced the block of wood in the floor, +covered it over again with the rug, and rose to his feet. + +"Listen!" he said, in a low voice, and with a gravity which +impressed them all. "There is something in this house which I do +not understand. I have told you so. I tell you something more now. +I am afraid--I am afraid." And the word startled his hearers like +a thunderclap, though it was breathed no louder than a whisper, +"Yes, my friends," he repeated, nodding his head, "terribly +afraid." And upon the others fell a discomfort, an awe, as though +something sinister and dangerous were present in the room and +close to them. So vivid was the feeling, instinctively they drew +nearer together. "Now, I warn you solemnly. There must be no +whisper that these jewels have been discovered; no newspaper must +publish a hint of it; no one must suspect that here in this room +we have found them. Is that understood?" + +"Certainly," said the Commissaire. + +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. + +"To be sure, monsieur," said Perrichet. + +As for Harry Wethermill, he made no reply. His burning eyes were +fixed upon Hanaud's face, and that was all. Hanaud, for his part, +asked for no reply from him. Indeed, he did not look towards Harry +Wethermill's face at all. Ricardo understood. Hanaud did not mean +to be deterred by the suffering written there. + +He went down again into the little gay salon lit with flowers and +August sunlight, and stood beside the couch gazing at it with +troubled eyes. And, as he gazed, he closed his eyes and shivered. +He shivered like a man who has taken a sudden chill. Nothing in +all this morning's investigations, not even the rigid body beneath +the sheet, nor the strange discovery of the jewels, had so +impressed Ricardo. For there he had been confronted with facts, +definite and complete; here was a suggestion of unknown horrors, a +hint, not a fact, compelling the imagination to dark conjecture. +Hanaud shivered. That he had no idea why Hanaud shivered made the +action still more significant, still more alarming. And it was not +Ricardo alone who was moved by it. A voice of despair rang through +the room. The voice was Harry Wethermill's, and his face was ashy +white. + +"Monsieur!" he cried, "I do not know what makes you shudder; but I +am remembering a few words you used this morning." + +Hanaud turned upon his heel. His face was drawn and grey and his +eyes blazed. + +"My friend, I also am remembering those words," he said. Thus the +two men stood confronting one another, eye to eye, with awe and +fear in both their faces. + +Ricardo was wondering to what words they both referred, when the +sound of wheels broke in upon the silence. The effect upon Hanaud +was magical. He thrust his hands in his pockets. + +"Helene Vauquier's cab," he said lightly. He drew out his +cigarette-case and lighted a cigarette. + +"Let us see that poor woman safely off. It is a closed cab I +hope." + +It was a closed landau. It drove past the open door of the salon +to the front door of the house. In Hanaud's wake they all went out +into the hall. The nurse came down alone carrying Helene +Vauquier's bag. She placed it in the cab and waited in the +doorway. + +"Perhaps Helene Vauquier has fainted," she said anxiously: "she +does not come." And she moved towards the stairs. + +Hanaud took a singularly swift step forward and stopped her. + +"Why should you think that?" he asked, with a queer smile upon his +face, and as he spoke a door closed gently upstairs. "See," he +continued, "you are wrong: she is coming." + +Ricardo was puzzled. It had seemed to him that the door which had +closed so gently was nearer than Helene Vauquier's door. It seemed +to him that the door was upon the first, not the second landing. +But Hanaud had noticed nothing strange; so it could not be. He +greeted Helene Vauquier with a smile as she came down the stairs. + +"You are better, mademoiselle," he said politely. + +"One can see that. There is more colour in your cheeks. A day or +two, and you will be yourself again." + +He held the door open while she got into the cab. The nurse took +her seat beside her; Durette mounted on the box. The cab turned +and went down the drive. + +"Goodbye, mademoiselle," cried Hanaud, and he watched until the +high shrubs hid the cab from his eyes. Then he behaved in an +extraordinary way. He turned and sprang like lightning up the +stairs. His agility amazed Ricardo. The others followed upon his +heels. He flung himself at Celia's door and opened it He burst +into the room, stood for a second, then ran to the window. He hid +behind the curtain, looking out. With his hand he waved to his +companions to keep back. The sound of wheels creaking and rasping +rose to their ears. The cab had just come out into the road. +Durette upon the box turned and looked towards the house. Just for +a moment Hanaud leaned from the window, as Besnard, the +Commissaire, had done, and, like Besnard again, he waved his hand. +Then he came back into the room and saw, standing in front of him, +with his mouth open and his eyes starting out of his head, +Perrichet--the intelligent Perrichet. + +"Monsieur," cried Perrichet, "something has been taken from this +room." + +Hanaud looked round the room and shook his head. + +"No," he said. + +"But yes, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "Oh, but yes. See! Upon +this dressing-table there was a small pot of cold cream. It stood +here, where my finger is, when we were in this room an hour ago. +Now it is gone." + +Hanaud burst into a laugh. + +"My friend Perrichet," he said ironically, "I will tell you the +newspaper did not do you justice. You are more intelligent. The +truth, my excellent friend, lies at the bottom of a well; but you +would find it at the bottom of a pot of cold cream. Now let us go. +For in this house, gentlemen, we have nothing more to do." + +He passed out of the room. Perrichet stood aside, his face +crimson, his attitude one of shame. He had been rebuked by the +great M. Hanaud, and justly rebuked. He knew it now. He had wished +to display his intelligence--yes, at all costs he must show how +intelligent he was. And he had shown himself a fool. He should +have kept silence about that pot of cream. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP + + +Hanaud walked away from the Villa Rose in the company of +Wethermill and Ricardo. + +"We will go and lunch," he said. + +"Yes; come to my hotel," said Harry Wethermill. But Hanaud shook +his head. + +"No; come with me to the Villa des Fleurs," he replied. "We may +learn something there; and in a case like this every minute is of +importance. We have to be quick." + +"I may come too?" cried Mr. Ricardo eagerly. + +"By all means," replied Hanaud, with a smile of extreme courtesy. +"Nothing could be more delicious than monsieur's suggestions"; and +with that remark he walked on silently. + +Mr. Ricardo was in a little doubt as to the exact significance of +the words. But he was too excited to dwell long upon them. +Distressed though he sought to be at his friend's grief, he could +not but assume an air of importance. All the artist in him rose +joyfully to the occasion. He looked upon himself from the outside. +He fancied without the slightest justification that people were +pointing him out. "That man has been present at the investigation +at the Villa Rose," he seemed to hear people say. "What strange +things he could tell us if he would!" + +And suddenly, Mr. Ricardo began to reflect. What, after all, could +he have told them? + +And that question he turned over in his mind while he ate his +luncheon. Hanaud wrote a letter between the courses. They were +sitting at a corner table, and Hanaud was in the corner with his +back to the wall. He moved his plate, too, over the letter as he +wrote it. It would have been impossible for either of his guests +to see what he had written, even if they had wished. Ricardo, +indeed, did wish. He rather resented the secrecy with which the +detective, under a show of openness, shrouded his thoughts and +acts. Hanaud sent the waiter out to fetch an officer in plain +clothes, who was in attendance at the door, and he handed the +letter to this man. Then he turned with an apology to his guests. + +"It is necessary that we should find out," he explained, "as soon +as possible, the whole record of Mlle. Celie." + +He lighted a cigar, and over the coffee he put a question to +Ricardo. + +"Now tell me what you make of the case. What M. Wethermill thinks- +-that is clear, is it not? Helene Vauquier is the guilty one. But +you, M. Ricardo? What is your opinion?" + +Ricardo took from his pocket-book a sheet of paper and from his +pocket a pencil. He was intensely flattered by the request of +Hanaud, and he proposed to do himself justice. "I will make a note +here of what I think the salient features of the mystery"; and he +proceeded to tabulate the points in the following way: + +(1) Celia Harland made her entrance into Mme. Dauvray's household +under very doubtful circumstances. + +(2) By methods still more doubtful she accquired an extraordinary +ascendency over Mme. Dauvray's mind. + +(3) If proof were needed how complete that ascendency was, a +glance at Celia Harland's wardrobe would suffice; for she wore the +most expensive clothes. + +(4) It was Celia Harland who arranged that Servettaz, the +chauffeur, should be absent at Chambery on the Tuesday night--the +night of the murder. + +(5) It was Celia Harland who bought the cord with which Mme. +Dauvray was strangled and Helene Vauquier bound. + +(6) The footsteps outside the salon show that Celia Harland ran +from the salon to the motor-car. + +(7) Celia Harland pretended that there should be a seance on the +Tuesday, but she dressed as though she had in view an appointment +with a lover, instead of a spiritualistic stance. + +(8) Celia Harland has disappeared. + +These eight points are strongly suggestive of Celia Harland's +complicity in the murder. But I have no clue which will enable me +to answer the following questions: + +(a) Who was the man who took part in the crime? (b) Who was the +woman who came to the villa on the evening of the murder with Mme. +Dauvray and Celia Harland? + +(c) What actually happened in the salon? How was the murder +committed? + +(d) Is Helene Vauquier's story true? + +(e) What did the torn-up scrap of writing mean? (Probably spirit +writing in Celia Harland's hand.) + +(f) Why has one cushion on the settee a small, fresh, brown stain, +which is probably blood? Why is the other cushion torn? + +Mr. Ricardo had a momentary thought of putting down yet another +question. He was inclined to ask whether or no a pot of cold cream +had disappeared from Celia Harland's bedroom; but he remembered +that Hanaud had set no store upon that incident, and he refrained. +Moreover, he had come to the end of his sheet of paper. He handed +it across the table to Hanaud and leaned back in his chair, +watching the detective with all the eagerness of a young author +submitting his first effort to a critic. + +Hanaud read it through slowly. At the end he nodded his head in +approval. + +"Now we will see what M. Wethermill has to say," he said, and he +stretched out the paper towards Harry Wethermill, who throughout +the luncheon had not said a word. + +"No, no," cried Ricardo. + +But Harry Wethermill already held the written sheet in his hand. +He smiled rather wistfully at his friend. + +"It is best that I should know just what you both think," he said, +and in his turn he began to read the paper through. He read the +first eight points, and then beat with his fist upon the table. + +"No no," he cried; "it is not possible! I don't blame you, +Ricardo. These are facts, and, as I said, I can face facts. But +there will be an explanation--if only we can discover it." + +He buried his face for a moment in his hands. Then he took up the +paper again. + +"As for the rest, Helene Vauquier lied," he cried violently, and +he tossed the paper to Hanaud. "What do you make of it?" + +Hanaud smiled and shook his head. + +"Did you ever go for a voyage on a ship?" he asked. + +"Yes; why?" + +"Because every day at noon three officers take an observation to +determine the ship's position--the captain, the first officer, and +the second officer. Each writes his observation down, and the +captain takes the three observations and compares them. If the +first or second officer is out in his reckoning, the captain tells +him so, but he does not show his own. For at times, no doubt, he +is wrong too. So, gentlemen, I critcise your observations, but I +do not show you mine." + +He took up Ricardo's paper and read it through again. + +"Yes," he said pleasantly. "But the two questions which are most +important, which alone can lead us to the truth--how do they come +to be omitted from your list, Mr. Ricardo?" + +Hanaud put the question with his most serious air. But Ricardo was +none the less sensible of the raillery behind the solemn manner. +He flushed and made no answer. + +"Still," continued Hanaud, "here are undoubtedly some questions. +Let us consider them! Who was the man who took a part in the +crime? Ah, if we only knew that, what a lot of trouble we should +save ourselves! Who was the woman? What a good thing it would be +to know that too! How clearly, after all, Mr. Ricardo puts his +finger on the important points! What did actually happen in the +salon?" And as he quoted that question the raillery died out of +his voice. He leaned his elbows on the table and bent forward. + +"What did actually happen in that little pretty room, just twelve +hours ago?" he repeated. "When no sunlight blazed upon the lawn, +and all the birds were still, and all the windows shuttered and +the world dark, what happened? What dreadful things happened? We +have not much to go upon. Let us formulate what we know. We start +with this. The murder was not the work of a moment. It was planned +with great care and cunning, and carried out to the letter of the +plan. There must be no noise, no violence. On each side of the +Villa Rose there are other villas; a few yards away the road runs +past. A scream, a cry, the noise of a struggle--these sounds, or +any one of them, might be fatal to success. Thus the crime was +planned; and there WAS no scream, there WAS no struggle. Not a +chair was broken, and only a chair upset. Yes, there were brains +behind that murder. We know that. But what do we know of the plan? +How far can we build it up? Let us see. First, there was an +accomplice in the house--perhaps two." + +"No!" cried Harry Wethermill. + +Hanaud took no notice of the interruption. + +"Secondly the woman came to the house with Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. +Celie between nine and half-past nine. Thirdly, the man came +afterwards, but before eleven, set open the gate, and was admitted +into the salon, unperceived by Mme. Dauvray. That also we can +safely assume. But what happened in the salon? Ah! There is the +question." Then he shrugged his shoulders and said with the note +of raillery once more in his voice: + +"But why should we trouble our heads to puzzle out this mystery, +since M. Ricardo knows?" + +"I?" cried Ricardo in amazement. + +"To be sure," replied Hanaud calmly. "For I look at another of +your questions. 'WHAT DID THE TORN-UP SCRAP OF WRITING MEAN?' and +you add: 'Probably spirit-writing.' Then there was a seance held +last night in the little salon! Is that so?" + +Harry Wethermill started. Mr. Ricardo was at a loss. + +"I had not followed my suggestion to its conclusion," he admitted +humbly. + +"No," said Hanaud. "But I ask myself in sober earnest, 'Was there +a seance held in the salon last night?' Did the tambourine rattle +in the darkness on the wall?" + +"But if Helene Vauquier's story is all untrue?" cried Wethermill, +again in exasperation. + +"Patience, my friend. Her story was not all untrue. I say there +were brains behind this crime; yes, but brains, even the +cleverest, would not have invented this queer, strange story of +the seances and of Mme. de Montespan. That is truth. But yet, if +there were a seance held, if the scrap of paper were spirit- +writing in answer to some awkward question, why--and here I come +to my first question, which M. Ricardo has omitted--why did Mlle. +Celie dress herself with so much elegance last night? What +Vauquier said is true. Her dress was not suited to a seance. A +light-coloured, rustling frock, which would be visible in a dim +light, or even in the dark, which would certainly be heard at +every movement she made, however lightly she stepped, and a big +hat--no no! I tell you, gentlemen, we shall not get to the bottom +of this mystery until we know why Mlle. Celie dressed herself as +she did last night." "Yes," Ricardo admitted. "I overlooked that +point." "Did she--" Hanaud broke off and bowed to Wethermill with +a grace and a respect which condoned his words. "You must bear +with me, my young friend, while I consider all these points. Did +she expect to join that night a lover--a man with the brains to +devise this crime? But if so--and here I come to the second +question omitted from M. Ricardo's list--why, on the patch of +grass outside the door of the salon, were the footsteps of the man +and woman so carefully erased, and the footsteps of Mlle. Celie-- +those little footsteps so easily identified--left for all the +world to see and recognise?" + +Ricardo felt like a child in the presence of his schoolmaster. He +was convicted of presumption. He had set down his questions with +the belief that they covered the ground. And here were two of the +utmost importance, not forgotten, but never even thought of. + +"Did she go, before the murder, to join a lover? Or after it? At +some time, you will remember, according to Vauquier's story, she +must have run upstairs to fetch her coat. Was the murder committed +during the interval when she was upstairs? Was the salon dark when +she came down again? Did she run through it quickly, eagerly, +noticing nothing amiss? And, indeed, how should she notice +anything if the salon were dark, and Mme. Dauvray's body lay under +the windows at the side?" + +Ricardo leaned forward eagerly. + +"That must be the truth," he cried; and Wethermill's voice broke +hastily in: + +"It is not the truth and I will tell you why. Celia Harland was to +have married me this week." + +There was so much pain and misery in his voice that Ricardo was +moved as he had seldom been. Wethermill buried his face in his +hands. Hanaud shook his head and gazed across the table at Ricardo +with an expression which the latter was at no loss to understand. +Lovers were impracticable people. But he--Hanaud--he knew the +world. Women had fooled men before today. + +Wethermill snatched his hands away from before his face. + +"We talk theories," he cried desperately, "of what may have +happened at the villa. But we are not by one inch nearer to the +man and woman who committed the crime. It is for them we have to +search." + +"Yes; but except by asking ourselves questions, how shall we find +them, M. Wethermill?" said Hanaud. "Take the man! We know nothing +of him. He has left no trace. Look at this town of Aix, where +people come and go like a crowd about the baccarat-table! He may +be at Marseilles today. He may be in this very room where we are +taking our luncheon. How shall we find him?" + +Wethermill nodded his head in a despairing assent. + +"I know. But it is so hard to sit still and do nothing," he cried. + +"Yes, but we are not sitting still," said Hanaud; and Wethermill +looked up with a sudden interest. "All the time that we have been +lunching here the intelligent Perrichet has been making inquiries. +Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. Celie left the Villa Rose at five, and +returned on foot soon after nine with the strange woman. And there +I see Perrichet himself waiting to be summoned." + +Hanaud beckoned towards the sergent-de-ville. + +"Perrichet will make an excellent detective," he said; "for he +looks more bovine and foolish in plain clothes than he does in +uniform." + +Perrichet advanced in his mufti to the table. + +"Speak, my friend," said Hanaud. + +"I went to the shop of M. Corval. Mlle. Celie was quite alone when +she bought the cord. But a few minutes later, in the Rue du +Casino, she and Mme. Dauvray were seen together, walking slowly in +the direction of the villa. No other woman was with them." + +"That is a pity," said Hanaud quietly, and with a gesture he +dismissed Perrichet. + +"You see, we shall find out nothing--nothing," said Wethermill, +with a groan. + +"We must not yet lose heart, for we know a little more about the +woman than we do about the man," said Hanaud consolingly. + +"True," exclaimed Ricardo. "We have Helene Vauquier's description +of her. We must advertise it." + +Hanaud smiled. + +"But that is a fine suggestion," he cried. "We must think over +that," and he clapped his hand to his forehead with a gesture of +self-reproach. "Why did not such a fine idea occur to me, fool +that I am! However, we will call the head waiter." + +The head waiter was sent for and appeared before them. + +"You knew Mme. Dauvray?" Hanaud asked. + +"Yes, monsieur--oh, the poor woman! And he flung up his hands. + +"And you knew her young companion?" + +"Oh yes, monsieur. They generally had their meals here. See, at +that little table over there! I kept it for them. But monsieur +knows well"--and the waiter looked towards Harry Wethermill--"for +monsieur was often with them." + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "Did Mme. Dauvray dine at that little table +last night?" + +"No, monsieur. She was not here last night." + +"Nor Mlle. Celie?" + +"No, monsieur! I do not think they were in the Villa des Fleurs at +all." + +"We know they were not," exclaimed Ricardo. "Wethermill and I were +in the rooms and we did not see them." + +"But perhaps you left early," objected Hanaud. + +"No," said Ricardo. "It was just ten o'clock when we reached the +Majestic." + +"You reached your hotel at ten," Hanaud repeated. "Did you walk +straight from here?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you left here about a quarter to ten. And we know that Mme. +Dauvray was back at the villa soon after nine. Yes--they could not +have been here last night," Hanaud agreed, and sat for a moment +silent. Then he turned to the head waiter. + +"Have you noticed any woman with Mme. Dauvray and her companion +lately?" + +"No, monsieur. I do not think so." + +"Think! A woman, for instance, with red hair." + +Harry Wethermill started forward. Mr. Ricardo stared at Hanaud in +amazement. The waiter reflected. + +"No, monsieur. I have seen no woman with red hair." + +"Thank you," said Hanaud, and the waiter moved away. + +"A woman with red hair!" cried Wethermill. "But Helene Vauquier +described her. She was sallow; her eyes, her hair, were dark." + +Hanaud turned with a smile to Harry Wethermill. + +"Did Helene Vauquier, then, speak the truth?" he asked. "No; the +woman who was in the salon last night, who returned home with Mme. +Dauvray and Mlle. Celie, was not a woman with black hair and +bright black eyes. Look!" And, fetching his pocket-book from his +pocket, he unfolded a sheet of paper and showed them, lying upon +its white surface a long red hair. + +"I picked that up on the table-the round satinwood table in the +salon. It was easy not to see it, but I did see it. Now, that is +not Mlle. Celie's hair, which is fair; nor Mme. Dauvray's, which +is dyed brown; nor Helene Vauquier's, which is black; nor the +charwoman's, which, as I have taken the trouble to find out, is +grey. It is therefore from the head of our unknown woman. And I +will tell you more. This woman with the red hair--she is in +Geneva." + +A startled exclamation burst from Ricardo. Harry Wethermill sat +slowly down. For the first time that day there had come some +colour into his cheeks, a sparkle into his eye. + +"But that is wonderful!" he cried. "How did you find that out?" + +Hanaud leaned back in his chair and took a pull at his cigar. He +was obviously pleased with Wethermill's admiration. + +"Yes, how did you find it out?" Ricardo repeated. + +Hanaud smiled. + +"As to that," he said, "remember I am the captain of the ship, and +I do not show you my observation." Ricardo was disappointed. Harry +Wethermill, however, started to his feet. + +"We must search Geneva, then," he cried. "It is there that we +should be, not here drinking our coffee at the Villa des Fleurs." + +Hanaud raised his hand. + +"The search is not being overlooked. But Geneva is a big city. It +is not easy to search Geneva and find, when we know nothing about +the woman for whom we are searching, except that her hair is red, +and that probably a young girl last night was with her. It is +rather here, I think--in Aix--that we must keep our eyes wide +open." + +"Here!" cried Wethermill in exasperation. He stared at Hanaud as +though he were mad. + +"Yes, here; at the post office--at the telephone exchange. Suppose +that the man is in Aix, as he may well be; some time he will wish +to send a letter, or a telegram, or a message over the telephone. +That, I tell you, is our chance. But here is news for us." + +Hanaud pointed to a messenger who was walking towards them. The +man handed Hanaud an envelope. + +"From M. le Commissaire," he said; and he saluted and retired. +"From M. le Commissaire?" cried Ricardo excitedly. + +But before Hanaud could open the envelope Harry Wethermill laid a +hand upon his sleeve. + +"Before we pass to something new, M. Hanaud," he said, "I should +be very glad if you would tell me what made you shiver in the +salon this morning. It has distressed me ever since. What was it +that those two cushions had to tell you?" + +There was a note of anguish in his voice difficult to resist. But +Hanaud resisted it. He shook his head. + +"Again," he said gravely, "I am to remind you that I am captain of +the ship and do not show my observation." + +He tore open the envelope and sprang up from his seat. + +"Mme. Dauvray's motor-car has been found," he cried. "Let us go!" + +Hanaud called for the bill and paid it. The three men left the +Villa des Fleurs together. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MME. DAUVRAY'S MOTOR-CAR + + +They got into a cab outside the door. Perrichet mounted the box, +and the cab was driven along the upward-winding road past the +Hotel Bernascon. A hundred yards beyond the hotel the cab stopped +opposite to a villa. A hedge separated the garden of the villa +from the road, and above the hedge rose a board with the words "To +Let" upon it. At the gate a gendarme was standing, and just within +the gate Ricardo saw Louis Besnard, the Commissaire, and +Servettaz, Mme. Dauvray's chauffeur. + +"It is here," said Besnard, as the party descended from the cab, +"in the coach-house of this empty villa." + +"Here?" cried Ricardo in amazement. + +The discovery upset all his theories. He had expected to hear that +it had been found fifty leagues away; but here, within a couple of +miles of the Villa Rose itself--the idea seemed absurd! Why take +it away at all--unless it was taken away as a blind? That +supposition found its way into Ricardo's mind, and gathered +strength as he thought upon it; for Hanaud had seemed to lean to +the belief that one of the murderers might be still in Aix. +Indeed, a glance at him showed that he was not discomposed by +their discovery. + +"When was it found?" Hanaud asked. + +"This morning. A gardener comes to the villa on two days a week to +keep the grounds in order. Fortunately Wednesday is one of his +days. Fortunately, too, there was rain yesterday evening. He +noticed the tracks of the wheels which you can see on the gravel, +and since the villa is empty he was surprised. He found the coach- +house door forced and the motor-car inside it. When he went to his +luncheon he brought the news of his discovery to the depot." + +The party followed the Commissaire along the drive to the coach- +house. + +"We will have the car brought out," said Hanaud to Servettaz. + +It was a big and powerful machine with a limousine body, +luxuriously fitted and cushioned in the shade of light grey. The +outside panels of the car were painted a dark grey. The car had +hardly been brought out into the sunlight before a cry of +stupefaction burst from the lips of Perrichet. + +"Oh!" he cried, in utter abasement. "I shall never forgive myself- +-never, never!" + +"Why?" Hanaud asked, turning sharply as he spoke. + +Perrichet was standing with his round eyes staring and his mouth +agape. + +"Because, monsieur, I saw that car--at four o'clock this morning-- +at the corner of the road--not fifty yards from the Villa Rose." + +"What!" cried Ricardo. + +"You saw it!" exclaimed Wethermill. + +Upon their faces was reflected now the stupefaction of Perrichet. + +"But you must have made a mistake," said the Commissaire. + +"No, no, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "It was that car. It was +that number. It was just after daylight. I was standing outside +the gate of the villa on duty where M. le Commissaire had placed +me. The car appeared at the corner and slackened speed. It seemed +to me that it was going to turn into the road and come down past +me. But instead the driver, as if he were now sure of his way, put +the car at its top speed and went on into Aix." + +"Was any one inside the car?" asked Hanaud. + +"No, monsieur; it was empty." + +"But you saw the driver!" exclaimed Wethermill. + +"Yes; what was he like?" cried the Commissaire. + +Perrichet shook his head mournfully. + +"He wore a talc mask over the upper part of his face, and had a +little black moustache, and was dressed in a heavy great-coat of +blue with a white collar." + +"That is my coat, monsieur," said Servettaz, and as he spoke he +lifted it up from the chauffeur's seat. "It is Mme. Dauvray's +livery." + +Harry Wethermill groaned aloud. + +"We have lost him. He was within our grasp--he, the murderer!--and +he was allowed to go!" + +Perrichet's grief was pitiable. + +"Monsieur," he pleaded, "a car slackens its speed and goes on +again--it is not so unusual a thing. I did not know the number of +Mme. Dauvray's car. I did not even know that it had disappeared"; +and suddenly tears of mortification filled his eyes. "But why do I +make these excuses?" he cried. "It is better, M. Hanaud, that I go +back to my uniform and stand at the street corner. I am as foolish +as I look." + +"Nonsense, my friend," said Hanaud, clapping the disconsolate man +upon the shoulder. "You remembered the car and its number. That is +something--and perhaps a great deal," he added gravely. "As for +the talc mask and the black moustache, that is not much to help +us, it is true." He looked at Ricardo's crestfallen face and +smiled. "We might arrest our good friend M. Ricardo upon that +evidence, but no one else that I know." + +Hanaud laughed immoderately at his joke. He alone seemed to feel +no disappointment at Perrichet's oversight. Ricardo was a little +touchy on the subject of his personal appearance, and bridled +visibly. Hanaud turned towards Servettaz. + +"Now," he said, "you know how much petrol was taken from the +garage?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Can you tell me, by the amount which has been used, how far that +car was driven last night?" Hanaud asked. + +Servettaz examined the tank. + +"A long way, monsieur. From a hundred and thirty to a hundred and +fifty kilometers, I should say." + +"Yes, just about that distance, I should say," cried Hanaud. + +His eyes brightened, and a smile, a rather fierce smile, came to +his lips. He opened the door, and examined with a minute scrutiny +the floor of the carriage, and as he looked, the smile faded from +his face. Perplexity returned to it. He took the cushions, looked +them over and shook them out. + +"I see no sign--" he began, and then he uttered a little shrill +cry of satisfaction. From the crack of the door by the hinge he +picked off a tiny piece of pale green stuff, which he spread out +upon the back of his hand. + +"Tell me, what is this?" he said to Ricardo. + +"It is a green fabric," said Ricardo very wisely. + +"It is green chiffon," said Hanaud. "And the frock in which Mlle. +Celie went away was of green chiffon over satin. Yes, Mlle. Celie +travelled in this car." + +He hurried to the driver's seat. Upon the floor there was some +dark mould. Hanaud cleaned it off with his knife and held some of +it in the palm of his hand. He turned to Servettaz. + +"You drove the car on Tuesday morning before you went to +Chambery?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Where did you take up Mme. Dauvray and Mlle. Celie?" + +"At the front door of the Villa Rose." + +"Did you get down from the seat at all?" + +"No, monsieur; not after I left the garage." + +Hanaud returned to his companions. + +"See!" And he opened his hand. "This is black soil--moist from +last night's rain--soil like the soil in front of Mme. Dauvray's +salon. Look, here is even a blade or two of the grass"; and he +turned the mould over in the palm of his hand. Then he took an +empty envelope from his pocket and poured the soil into it and +gummed the flap down. He stood and frowned at the motor-car. + +"Listen," he said, "how I am puzzled! There was a man last night +at the Villa Rose. There were a man's blurred footmarks in the +mould before the glass door. That man drove madame's car for a +hundred and fifty kilometers, and he leaves the mould which clung +to his boots upon the floor of his seat. Mlle. Celie and another +woman drove away inside the car. Mlle. Celie leaves a fragment of +the chiffon tunic of her frock which caught in the hinge. But +Mlle. Celie made much clearer impressions in the mould than the +man. Yet on the floor of the carriage there is no trace of her +shoes. Again I say there is something here which I do not +understand." And he spread out his hands with an impulsive gesture +of despair + +"It looks as if they had been careful and he careless," said Mr. +Ricardo, with the air of a man solving a very difficult problem. + +"What a mind!" cried Hanaud, now clasping his hands together in +admiration. "How quick and how profound!" + +There was at times something elphantinely elfish in M. Hanaud's +demeanour, which left Mr. Ricardo at a loss. But he had come to +notice that these undignified manifestations usually took place +when Hanaud had reached a definite opinion upon some point which +had perplexed him. + +"Yet there is perhaps, another explanation," Hanaud continued. +"For observe, M. Ricardo. We have other evidence to show that the +careless one was Mlle. Celie. It was she who left her footsteps so +plainly visible upon the grass, not the man. However, we will go +back to M. Wethermill's room at the Hotel Majestic and talk this +matter over. We know something now. Yes, we know--what do we know, +monsieur?" he asked, suddenly turning with a smile to Ricardo, +and, as Ricardo paused: "Think it over while we walk down to M. +Wethermill's apartment in the Hotel Majestic." + +"We know that the murderer has escaped," replied Ricardo hotly. + +"The murderer is not now the most important object of our search. +He is very likely at Marseilles by now. We shall lay our hands on +him, never fear," replied Hanaud, with a superb gesture of +disdain. "But it was thoughtful of you to remind me of him. I +might so easily have clean forgotten him, and then indeed my +reputation would have suffered an eclipse." He made a low, +ironical bow to Ricardo and walked quickly down the road. + +"For a cumbersome man he is extraordinarily active," said Mr. +Ricardo to Harry Wethermill, trying to laugh, without much +success. "A heavy, clever, middle-aged man, liable to become a +little gutter-boy at a moment's notice." + +Thus he described the great detective, and the description is +quoted. For it was Ricardo's best effort in the whole of this +business. + +The three men went straight to Harry Wethermill's apartment, which +consisted of a sitting-room and a bedroom on the first floor. A +balcony ran along outside. Hanaud stepped out on to it, looked +about him, and returned. + +"It is as well to know that we cannot be overheard," he said. + +Harry Wethermill meanwhile had thrown himself into a chair. The +mask he had worn had slipped from its fastenings for a moment. +There was a look of infinite suffering upon his face. It was the +face of a man tortured by misery to the snapping-point. + +Hanaud, on the other hand, was particularly alert. The discovery +of the motor-car had raised his spirits. He sat at the table. + +"I will tell you what we have learnt," he said, "and it is of +importance. The three of them--the man, the woman with the red +hair, and Mlle. Celie--all drove yesterday night to Geneva. That +is only one thing we have learnt." + +"Then you still cling to Geneva?" said Ricardo. + +"More than ever," said Hanaud. + +He turned in his chair towards Wethermill. + +"Ah, my poor friend!" he said, when he saw the young man's +distress. + +Harry Wethermill sprang up with a gesture as though to sweep the +need of sympathy away. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked. + +"You have a road map, perhaps?" said Hanaud. + +"Yes," said Wethermill, "mine is here. There it is"; and crossing +the room he brought it from a sidetable and placed it in front of +Hanaud. Hanaud took a pencil from his pocket. + +"One hundred and fifty kilometers was about the distance which the +car had travelled. Measure the distances here, and you will see +that Geneva is the likely place. It is a good city to hide in. +Moreover the car appears at the corner at daylight. How does it +appear, there? What road is it which comes out at that corner? The +road from Geneva. I am not sorry that it is Geneva, for the Chef +de la Surete is a friend of mine." + +"And what else do we know?" asked Ricardo. + +"This," said Hanaud. He paused impressively. "Bring up your chair +to the table, M. Wethermill, and consider whether I am right or +wrong"; and he waited until Harry Wethermill had obeyed. Then he +laughed in a friendly way at himself. + +"I cannot help it," he said; "I have an eye for dramatic effects. +I must prepare for them when I know they are coming. And one, I +tell you, is coming now." + +He shook his finger at his companions. Ricardo shifted and +shuffled in his chair. Harry Wethermill kept his eyes fixed on +Hanaud's face, but he was quiet, as he had been throughout the +long inquiry. + +Hanaud lit a cigarette and took his time. + +"What I think is this. The man who drove the car into Geneva drove +it back, because--he meant to leave it again in the garage of the +Villa Rose." + +"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, flinging himself back. The theory +so calmly enunciated took his breath away. + +"Would he have dared?" asked Harry Wethermill. + +Hanaud leaned across and tapped his fingers on the table to +emphasise his answer. + +"All through this crime there are two things visible--brains and +daring; clever brains and extraordinary daring. Would he have +dared? He dared to be at the corner close to the Villa Rose at +daylight. Why else should he have returned except to put back the +car? Consider! The petrol is taken from tins which Servettaz might +never have touched for a fortnight, and by that time he might, as +he said, have forgotten whether he had not used them himself. I +had this possibility in my mind when I put the questions to +Servettaz about the petrol which the Commissaire thought so +stupid. The utmost care is taken that there shall be no mould left +on the floor of the carriage. The scrap of chiffon was torn off, +no doubt, when the women finally left the car, and therefore not +noticed, or that, too, would have been removed. That the exterior +of the car was dirty betrayed nothing, for Servettaz had left it +uncleaned." + +Hanaud leaned back and, step by step, related the journey of the +car. + +"The man leaves the gate open; he drives into Geneva the two +women, who are careful that their shoes shall leave no marks upon +the floor. At Geneva they get out. The man returns. If he can only +leave the car in the garage he covers all traces of the course he +and his friends have taken. No one would suspect that the car had +ever left the garage. At the corner of the road, just as he is +turning down to the villa, he sees a sergent-de-ville at the gate. +He knows that the murder is discovered. He puts on full speed and +goes straight out of the town. What is he to do? He is driving a +car for which the police in an hour or two, if not now already, +will be surely watching. He is driving it in broad daylight. He +must get rid of it, and at once, before people are about to see +it, and to see him in it. Imagine his feelings! It is almost +enough to make one pity him. Here he is in a car which convicts +him as a murderer, and he has nowhere to leave it. He drives +through Aix. Then on the outskirts of the town he finds an empty +villa. He drives in at the gate, forces the door of the coach- +house, and leaves his car there. Now, observe! It is no longer any +use for him to pretend that he and his friends did not disappear +in that car. The murder is already discovered, and with the murder +the disappearance of the car. So he no longer troubles his head +about it. He does not remove the traces of mould from the place +where his feet rested, which otherwise, no doubt, he would have +done. It no longer matters. He has to run to earth now before he +is seen. That is all his business. And so the state of the car is +explained. It was a bold step to bring that car back--yes, a bold +and desperate step. But a clever one. For, if it had succeeded, we +should have known nothing of their movements--oh, but nothing-- +nothing. Ah! I tell you this is no ordinary blundering affair. +They are clever people who devised this crime--clever, and of an +audacity which is surprising." + +Then Hanaud lit another cigarette. + +Mr. Ricardo, on the other hand, could hardly continue to smoke for +excitement. + +"I cannot understand your calmness," he exclaimed. + +"No?" said Hanaud. "Yet it is so obvious. You are the amateur, I +am the professional--that is all." + +He looked at his watch and rose to his feet. + +"I must go" he said and as he turned towards the door a cry sprang +from Mr. Ricardo's lips "It is true. I am the amateur. Yet I have +knowledge, Monsieur Hanaud which the professional would do well to +obtain." + +Hanaud turned a guarded face towards Ricardo. There was no longer +any raillery in his manner. He spoke slowly, coldly. + +"Let me have it then!" + +"I have driven in my motor-car from Geneva to Aix," Ricardo cried +excitedly. "A bridge crosses a ravine high up amongst the +mountains. At the bridge there is a Custom House. There--at the +Pont de la Caille--your car is stopped. It is searched. You must +sign your name in a book. And there is no way round. You would +find sure and certain proof whether or no Madame Dauvray's car +travelled last night to Geneva. Not so many travellers pass along +that road at night. You would find certain proof too of how many +people were in the car. For they search carefully at the Pont de +la Caille." + +A dark flush overspread Hanaud's face. Ricardo was in the seventh +Heaven. He had at last contributed something to the history of +this crime. He had repaired an omission. He had supplied knowledge +to the omniscient. Wethermill looked up drearily like one who has +lost heart. + +"Yes, you must not neglect that clue," he said. + +Hanaud replied testily: + +"It is not a clue. M. Ricardo tells that he travelled from Geneva +into France and that his car was searched. Well, we know already +that the officers are particular at the Custom Houses of France. +But travelling from France into Switzerland is a very different +affair. In Switzerland, hardly a glance, hardly a word." That was +true. M. Ricardo crestfallen recognized the truth. But his spirits +rose again at once. "But the car came back from Geneva into +France!" he cried. + +"Yes, but when the car came back, the man was alone in it," Hanaud +answered. "I have more important things to attend to. For instance +I must know whether by any chance they have caught our man at +Marseilles." He laid his hand on Wethermill's shoulder. "And you, +my friend, I should counsel you to get some sleep. We may need all +our strength tomorrow. I hope so." He was speaking very bravely. +"Yes, I hope so." + +Wethermill nodded. + +"I shall try," he said. + +"That's better," said Hanaud cheerfully. "You will both stay here +this evening; for if I have news, I can then ring you up." + +Both men agreed, and Hanaud went away. He left Mr. Ricardo +profoundly disturbed. "That man will take advice from no one," he +declared. "His vanity is colossal. It is true they are not +particular at the Swiss Frontier. Still the car would have to stop +there. At the Custom House they would know something. Hanaud ought +to make inquiries." But neither Ricardo nor Harry Wethermill heard +a word more from Hanaud that night. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +NEWS FROM GENEVA + + +The next morning, however, before Mr. Ricardo was out of his bed, +M. Hanaud was announced. He came stepping gaily into the room, +more elephantinely elfish than ever. + +"Send your valet away," he said. And as soon as they were alone he +produced a newspaper, which he flourished in Mr. Ricardo's face +and then dropped into his hands. + +Ricardo saw staring him in the face a full description of Celia +Harland, of her appearance and her dress, of everything except her +name, coupled with an intimation that a reward of four thousand +francs would be paid to any one who could give information leading +to the discovery of her whereabouts to Mr. Ricardo, the Hotel +Majestic, Aix-les-Bains! + +Mr. Ricardo sat up in his bed with a sense of outrage. + +"You have done this?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Why have you done it?" Mr. Ricardo cried. + +Hanaud advanced to the bed mysteriously on the tips of his toes. + +"I will tell you," he said, in his most confidential tones. "Only +it must remain a secret between you and me. I did it--because I +have a sense of humour." + +"I hate publicity," said Mr. Ricardo acidly. + +"On the other hand you have four thousand francs," protested the +detective. "Besides, what else should I do? If I name myself, the +very people we are seeking to catch--who, you may be sure, will be +the first to read this advertisement--will know that I, the great, +the incomparable Hanaud, am after them; and I do not want them to +know that. Besides"--and he spoke now in a gentle and most serious +voice--"why should we make life more difficult for Mlle. Celie by +telling the world that the police want her? It will be time enough +for that when she appears before the Juge d'Instruction." + +Mr. Ricardo grumbled inarticulately, and read through the +advertisement again. + +"Besides, your description is incomplete," he said. "There is no +mention of the diamond earrings which Celia Harland was wearing +when she went away." + +"Ah! so you noticed that!" exclaimed Hanaud. "A little more +experience and I should be looking very closely to my laurels. But +as for the earrings--I will tell you, Mlle. Celie was not wearing +them when she went away from the Villa Rose." + +"But--but," stammered Ricardo, "the case upon the dressing-room +table was empty." + +"Still, she was not wearing them, I know," said Hanaud decisively. + +"How do you know?" cried Ricardo, gazing at Hanaud with awe in his +eyes. "How could you know?" + +"Because"--and Hanaud struck a majestic attitude, like a king in a +play--"because I am the captain of the ship." + +Upon that Mr. Ricardo suffered a return of his ill-humour. + +"I do not like to be trifled with," he remarked, with as much +dignity as his ruffled hair and the bed-clothes allowed him. He +looked sternly at the newspaper, turning it over, and then he +uttered a cry of surprise. + +"But this is yesterday's paper!" he said. + +"Yesterday evening's paper," Hanaud corrected. + +"Printed at Geneva!" + +"Printed, and published and sold at Geneva," said Hanaud. + +"When did you send the advertisement in, then?" + +"I wrote a letter while we were taking our luncheon," Hanaud +explained. "The letter was to Besnard, asking him to telegraph the +advertisement at once." + +"But you never said a word about it to us," Ricardo grumbled. + +"No. And was I not wise?" said Hanaud, with complacency. "For you +would have forbidden me to use your name." + +"Oh, I don't go so far as that," said Ricardo reluctantly. His +indignation was rapidly evaporating. For there was growing up in +his mind a pleasant perception that the advertisement placed him +in the limelight. + +He rose from his bed. + +"You will make yourself comfortable in the sitting-room while I +have my bath." + +"I will, indeed," replied Hanaud cheerily. "I have already ordered +my morning chocolate. I have hopes that you may have a telegram +very soon. This paper was cried last night through the streets of +Geneva." + +Ricardo dressed for once in a way with some approach to ordinary +celerity, and joined Hanaud. + +"Has nothing come?" he asked. + +"No. This chocolate is very good; it is better than that which I +get in my hotel." + +"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, who was fairly twittering with +excitement. "You sit there talking about chocolate while my cup +shakes in my fingers." + +"Again I must remind you that you are the amateur, I the +professional, my friend." + +As the morning drew on, however, Hanaud's professional quietude +deserted him. He began to start at the sound of footsteps in the +corridor, to glance every other moment from the window, to eat his +cigarettes rather than to smoke them. At eleven o'clock Ricardo's +valet brought a telegram into the room. Ricardo seized it. + +"Calmly, my friend," said Hanaud. + +With trembling fingers Ricardo tore it open. He jumped in his +chair. Speechless, he handed the telegram to Hanaud. It had been +sent from Geneva, and it ran thus: + +"Expect me soon after three.--MARTHE GOBIN." + +Hanaud nodded his head. + +"I told you I had hopes." All his levity had gone in an instant +from his manner. He spoke very quietly. + +"I had better send for Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you like. But why raise hopes in that poor man's breast which +an hour or two may dash for ever to the ground? Consider! Marthe +Gobin has something to tell us. Think over those eight points of +evidence which you drew up yesterday in the Villa des Fleurs, and +say whether what she has to tell us is more likely to prove Mlle. +Celie's innocence than her guilt. Think well, for I will be guided +by you, M. Ricardo," said Hanaud solemnly. "If you think it better +that your friend should live in torture until Marthe Gobin comes, +and then perhaps suffer worse torture from the news she brings, be +it so. You shall decide. If, on the other hand, you think it will +be best to leave M. Wethermill in peace until we know her story, +be it so. You shall decide." + +Ricardo moved uneasily. The solemnity of Hanaud's manner impressed +him. He had no wish to take the responsibility of the decision +upon himself. But Hanaud sat with his eyes strangely fixed upon +Ricardo, waiting for his answer. + +"Well," said Ricardo, at length, "good news will be none the worse +for waiting a few hours. Bad news will be a little the better." + +"Yes," said Hanaud; "so I thought you would decide." He took up a +Continental Bradshaw from a bookshelf in the room. "From Geneva +she will come through Culoz. Let us see!" He turned over the +pages. "There is a train from Culoz which reaches Aix at seven +minutes past three. It is by that train she will come. You have a +motor-car?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well. Will you pick me up in it at three at my hotel? We +will drive down to the station and see the arrivals by that train. +It may help us to get some idea of the person with whom we have to +deal. That is always an advantage. Now I will leave you, for I +have much to do. But I will look in upon M. Wethermill as I go +down and tell him that there is as yet no news." + +He took up his hat and stick, and stood for a moment staring out +of the window. Then he roused himself from his reverie with a +start. + +"You look out upon Mont Revard, I see. I think M. Wethermill's +view over the garden and the town is the better one," he said, and +went out of the room. + +At three o'clock Ricardo called in his car, which was an open car +of high power, at Hanaud's hotel, and the two men went to the +station. They waited outside the exit while the passengers gave up +their tickets. Amongst them a middle-aged, short woman, of a +plethoric tendency, attracted their notice. She was neatly but +shabbily dressed in black; her gloves were darned, and she was +obviously in a hurry. As she came out she asked a commissionaire: + +"How far is it to the Hotel Majestic?" + +The man told her the hotel was at the very top of the town, and +the way was steep. + +"But madame can go up in the omnibus of the hotel," he suggested. +Madame, however, was in too much of a hurry. The omnibus would +have to wait for luggage. She hailed a closed cab and drove off +inside it. + +"Now, if we go back in the car, we shall be all ready for her when +she arrives," said Hanaud. + +They passed the cab, indeed, a few yards up the steep hill which +leads from the station. The cab was moving at a walk. + +"She looks honest," said Hanaud, with a sigh of relief. "She is +some good bourgeoise anxious to earn four thousand francs." + +They reached the hotel in a few minutes. + +"We may need your car again the moment Marthe Gobin has gone," +said Hanaud. + +"It shall wait here," said Ricardo. + +"No," said Hanaud; "let it wait in the little street at the back +of my hotel. It will not be so noticeable there. You have petrol +for a long journey?" + +Ricardo gave the order quietly to his chauffeur, and followed +Hanaud into the hotel. Through a glass window they could see +Wethermill smoking a cigar over his coffee. + +"He looks as if he had not slept," said Ricardo. + +Hanaud nodded sympathetically, and beckoned Ricardo past the +window. + +"But we are nearing the end. These two days have been for him days +of great trouble; one can see that very clearly. And he has done +nothing to embarrass us. Men in distress are apt to be a nuisance. +I am grateful to M. Wethermill. But we are nearing the end. Who +knows? Within an hour or two we may have news for him." + +He spoke with great feeling, and the two men ascended the stairs +to Ricardo's rooms. For the second time that day Hanaud's +professional calm deserted him. The window overlooked the main +entrance to the hotel. Hanaud arranged the room, and, even while +he arranged it, ran every other second and leaned from the window +to watch for the coming of the cab. + +"Put the bank-notes upon the table," he said hurriedly. "They will +persuade her to tell us all that she has to tell. Yes, that will +do. She is not in sight yet? No." + +"She could not be. It is a long way from the station," said +Ricardo, "and the whole distance is uphill." + +"Yes, that is true," Hanaud replied. "We will not embarrass her by +sitting round the table like a tribunal. You will sit in that arm- +chair." + +Ricardo took his seat, crossed his knees, and joined the tips of +his fingers. + +"So! not too judicial!" said Hanaud; "I will sit here at the +table. Whatever you do, do not frighten her." Hanaud sat down in +the chair which he had placed for himself. "Marthe Gobin shall sit +opposite, with the light upon her face. So!" And, springing up, he +arranged a chair for her. "Whatever you do, do not frighten her," +he repeated. "I am nervous. So much depends upon this interview." +And in a second he was back at the window. + +Ricardo did not move. He arranged in his mind the interrogatory +which was to take place. He was to conduct it. He was the master +of the situation. All the limelight was to be his. Startling facts +would come to light elicited by his deft questions. Hanaud need +not fear. He would not frighten her. He would be gentle, he would +be cunning. Softly and delicately he would turn this good woman +inside out, like a glove. Every artistic fibre in his body +vibrated to the dramatic situation. + +Suddenly Hanaud leaned out of the window. + +"It comes! it comes!" he said in a quick, feverish whisper. "I can +see the cab between the shrubs of the drive." + +"Let it come!" said Mr. Ricardo superbly. + +Even as he sat he could hear the grating of wheels upon the drive. +He saw Hanaud lean farther from the window and stamp impatiently +upon the floor. + +"There it is at the door," he said; and for a few seconds he spoke +no more. He stood looking downwards, craning his head, with his +back towards Ricardo. + +Then, with a wild and startled cry, he staggered back into the +room. His face was white as wax, his eyes full of horror, his +mouth open. + +"What is the matter?" exclaimed Ricardo, springing to his feet. + +"They are lifting her out! She doesn't move! They are lifting her +out!" + +For a moment he stared into Ricardo's face--paralysed by fear. +Then he sprang down the stairs. Ricardo followed him. + +There was confusion in the corridor. Men were running, voices were +crying questions. As they passed the window they saw Wethermill +start up, aroused from his lethargy. They knew the truth before +they reached the entrance of the hotel. A cab had driven up to the +door from the station; in the cab was an unknown woman stabbed to +the heart. + +"She should have come by the omnibus," Hanaud repeated and +repeated stupidly. For the moment he was off his balance. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE UNOPENED LETTER + + +The hall of the hotel had been cleared of people. At the entrance +from the corridor a porter barred the way. + +"No one can pass," said he. + +"I think that I can," said Hanaud, and he produced his card. "From +the Surete at Paris." + +He was allowed to enter, with Ricardo at his heels. On the ground +lay Marthe Gobin; the manager of the hotel stood at her side; a +doctor was on his knees. Hanaud gave his card to the manager. + +"You have sent word to the police?" + +"Yes," said the manager. + +"And the wound?" asked Hanaud, kneeling on the ground beside the +doctor. It was a very small wound, round and neat and clean, and +there was very little blood. "It was made by a bullet," said +Hanaud--"some tiny bullet from an air-pistol." + +"No," answered the doctor. + +"No knife made it," Hanaud asserted. + +"That is true," said the doctor. "Look!" and he took up from the +floor by his knee the weapon which had caused Marthe Gobin's +death. It was nothing but an ordinary skewer with a ring at one +end and a sharp point at the other, and a piece of common white +firewood for a handle. The wood had been split, the ring inserted +and spliced in position with strong twine. It was a rough enough +weapon, but an effective one. The proof of its effectiveness lay +stretched upon the floor beside them. + +Hanaud gave it to the manager of the hotel. + +"You must be very careful of this, and give it as it is to the +police." + +Then he bent once more over Marthe Gobin. + +"Did she suffer?" he asked in a low voice. + +"No; death must have been instantaneous," said the doctor. + +"I am glad of that," said Hanaud, as he rose again to his feet. + +In the doorway the driver of the cab was standing. + +"What has he to say?" Hanaud asked. + +The man stepped forward instantly. He was an old, red-faced, stout +man, with a shiny white tall hat, like a thousand drivers of cabs. + +"What have I to say, monsieur?" he grumbled in a husky voice. "I +take up the poor woman at the station and I drive her where she +bids me, and I find her dead, and my day is lost. Who will pay my +fare, monsieur?" + +"I will," said Hanaud. "There it is," and he handed the man a +five-franc piece. "Now, answer me! Do you tell me that this woman +was murdered in your cab and that you knew nothing about it?" + +"But what should I know? I take her up at the station, and all the +way up the hill her head is every moment out of the window, +crying, 'Faster, faster!' Oh, the good woman was in a hurry! But +for me I take no notice. The more she shouts, the less I hear; I +bury my head between my shoulders, and I look ahead of me and I +take no notice. One cannot expect cab-horses to run up these +hills; it is not reasonable." "So you went at a walk," said +Hanaud. He beckoned to Ricardo, and said to the manager: "M. +Besnard will, no doubt, be here in a few minutes, and he will send +for the Juge d'Instruction. There is nothing that we can do." + +He went back to Ricardo's sitting-room and flung himself into a +chair. He had been calm enough downstairs in the presence of the +doctor and the body of the victim. Now, with only Ricardo for a +witness, he gave way to distress. + +"It is terrible," he said. "The poor woman! It was I who brought +her to Aix. It was through my carelessness. But who would have +thought--?" He snatched his hands from his face and stood up. "I +should have thought," he said solemnly. "Extraordinary daring-- +that was one of the qualities of my criminal. I knew it, and I +disregarded it. Now we have a second crime." + +"The skewer may lead you to the criminal," said Mr. Ricardo. + +"The skewer!" cried Hanaud. "How will that help us? A knife, yes-- +perhaps. But a skewer!" + +"At the shops--there will not be so many in Aix at which you can +buy skewers--they may remember to whom they sold one within the +last day or so." + +"How do we know it was bought in the last day or so?" cried Hanaud +scornfully. "We have not to do with a man who walks into a shop +and buys a single skewer to commit a murder with, and so hands +himself over to the police. How often must I say it!" + +The violence of his contempt nettled Ricardo. + +"If the murderer did not buy it, how did he obtain it?" he asked +obstinately. + +"Oh, my friend, could he not have stolen it? From this or from any +hotel in Aix? Would the loss of a skewer be noticed, do you think? +How many people in Aix today have had rognons a la brochette for +their luncheon! Besides, it is not merely the death of this poor +woman which troubles me. We have lost the evidence which she was +going to bring to us. She had something to tell us about Celie +Harland which now we shall never hear. We have to begin all over +again, and I tell you we have not the time to begin all over +again. No, we have not the time. Time will be lost, and we have no +time to lose." He buried his face again in his hands and groaned +aloud. His grief was so violent and so sincere that Ricardo, +shocked as he was by the murder of Marthe Gobin, set himself to +console him. + +"But you could not have foreseen that at three o'clock in the +afternoon at Aix--" + +Hanaud brushed the excuse aside. + +"It is no extenuation. I OUGHT to have foreseen. Oh, but I will +have no pity now," he cried, and as he ended the words abruptly +his face changed. He lifted a trembling forefinger and pointed. +There came a sudden look of life into his dull and despairing +eyes. + +He was pointing to a side-table on which were piled Mr. Ricardo's +letters. + +"You have not opened them this morning?" he asked. + +"No. You came while I was still in bed. I have not thought of them +till now." + +Hanaud crossed to the table, and, looking down at the letters, +uttered a cry. + +"There's one, the big envelope," he said, his voice shaking like +his hand. "It has a Swiss stamp." + +He swallowed to moisten his throat. Ricardo sprang across the room +and tore open the envelope. There was a long letter enclosed in a +handwriting unknown to him. He read aloud the first lines of the +letter: + +"I write what I saw and post it tonight, so that no one may be +before me with the news. I will come over tomorrow for the money." + +A low exclamation from Hanaud interrupted the words. + +"The signature! Quick!" + +Ricardo turned to the end of the letter. + +"Marthe Gobin." + +"She speaks, then! After all she speaks!" Hanaud whispered in a +voice of awe. He ran to the door of the room, opened it suddenly, +and, shutting it again, locked it. "Quick! We cannot bring that +poor woman back to life; but we may still--" He did not finish his +sentence. He took the letter unceremoniously from Ricardo's hand +and seated himself at the table. Over his shoulder Mr. Ricardo, +too, read Marthe Gobin's letter. + +It was just the sort of letter, which in Ricardo's view, Marthe +Gobin would have written--a long, straggling letter which never +kept to the point, which exasperated them one moment by its folly +and fired them to excitement the next. + +It was dated from a small suburb of Geneva, on the western side of +the lake, and it ran as follows: + +"The suburb is but a street close to the lake-side, and a tram +runs into the city. It is quite respectable, you understand, +monsieur, with a hotel at the end of it, and really some very good +houses. But I do not wish to deceive you about the social position +of myself or my husband. Our house is on the wrong side of the +street--definitely--yes. It is a small house, and we do not see +the water from any of the windows because of the better houses +opposite. M. Gobin, my husband, who was a clerk in one of the +great banks in Geneva, broke down in health in the spring, and for +the last three months has been compelled to keep indoors. Of +course, money has not been plentiful, and I could not afford a +nurse. Consequently I myself have been compelled to nurse him. +Monsieur, if you were a woman, you would know what men are when +they are ill--how fretful, how difficult. There is not much +distraction for the woman who nurses them. So, as I am in the +house most of the day, I find what amusement I can in watching the +doings of my neighbours. You will not blame me. + +"A month ago the house almost directly opposite to us was taken +furnished for the summer by a Mme. Rossignol. She is a widow, but +during the last fortnight a young gentleman has come several times +in the afternoon to see her, and it is said in the street that he +is going to marry her. But I cannot believe it myself. Monsieur is +a young man of perhaps thirty, with smooth, black hair. He wears a +moustache, a little black moustache, and is altogether +captivating. Mme. Rossignol is five or six years older, I should +think--a tall woman, with red hair and a bold sort of coarse +beauty. I was not attracted by her. She seemed not quite of the +same world as that charming monsieur who was said to be going to +marry her. No; I was not attracted by Adele Rossignol." + +And when he had come to that point Hanaud looked up with a start. + +"So the name was Adele," he whispered. + +"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier spoke the truth." + +Hanaud nodded with a queer smile upon his lips. + +"Yes, there she spoke the truth. I thought she did." + +"But she said Adele's hair was black," interposed Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes, there she didn't," said Hanaud drily, and his eyes dropped +again to the paper. + +"I knew her name was Adele, for often I have heard her servant +calling her so, and without any 'Madame' in front of the name. +That is strange, is it not, to hear an elderly servant-woman +calling after her mistress, 'Adele,' just simple 'Adele'? It was +that which made me think monsieur and madame were not of the same +world. But I do not believe that they are going to be married. I +have an instinct about it. Of course, one never knows with what +extraordinary women the nicest men will fall in love. So that +after all these two may get married. But if they do, I do not +think they will be happy. + +"Besides the old woman there was another servant, a man, +Hippolyte, who served in the house and drove the carriage when it +was wanted--a respectable man. He always touched his hat when Mme. +Rossignol came out of the house. He slept in the house at night, +although the stable was at the end of the street. I thought he was +probably the son of Jeanne, the servant-woman. He was young, and +his hair was plastered down upon his forehead, and he was +altogether satisfied with himself and a great favorite amongst the +servants in the street. The carriage and the horse were hired from +Geneva. That is the household of Mme. Rossignol." + +So far, Mr. Ricardo read in silence. Then he broke out again. + +"But we have them! The red-haired woman called Adele; the man with +the little black moustache. It was he who drove the motor-car!" + +Hanaud held up his hand to check the flow of words, and both read +on again: + +"At three o'clock on Tuesday afternoon madame was driven away in +the carriage, and I did not see it return all that evening. Of +course, it may have returned to the stables by another road. But +it was not unusual for the carriage to take her into Geneva and +wait a long time. I went to bed at eleven, but in the night M. +Gobin was restless, and I rose to get him some medicine. We slept +in the front of the house, monsieur, and while I was searching for +the matches upon the table in the middle of the room I heard the +sound of carriage wheels in the silent street. I went to the +window, and, raising a corner of the curtains, looked out. M. +Gobin called to me fretfully from the bed to know why I did not +light the candle and get him what he wanted. I have already told +you how fretful sick men can be, always complaining if just for a +minute one distracts oneself by looking out of the window. But +there! One can do nothing to please them. Yet how right I was to +raise the blind and look out of the window! For if I had obeyed my +husband I might have lost four thousand francs. And four thousand +francs are not to be sneezed at by a poor woman whose husband lies +in bed. + +"I saw the carriage stop at Mme. Rossignol's house. Almost at once +the house door was opened by the old servant, although the hall of +the house and all the windows in the front were dark. That was the +first thing that surprised me. For when madame came home late and +the house was dark, she used to let herself in with a latchkey. +Now, in the dark house, in the early morning, a servant was +watching for them. It was strange. + +"As soon as the door of the house was opened the door of the +carriage opened too, and a young lady stepped quickly out on to +the pavement. The train of her dress caught in the door, and she +turned round, stooped, freed it with her hand, and held it up off +the ground. The night was clear, and there was a lamp in the +street close by the door of Mme. Rossignol's house. As she turned +I saw her face under the big green hat. It was very pretty and +young, and the hair was fair. She wore a white coat, but it was +open in front and showed her evening frock of pale green. When she +lifted her skirt I saw the buckles sparkling on her satin shoes. +It was the young lady for whom you are advertising, I am sure. She +remained standing just for a moment without moving, while Mme. +Rossignol got out. I was surprised to see a young lady of such +distinction in Mme. Rossignol's company. Then, still holding her +skirt up, she ran very lightly and quickly across the pavement +into the dark house. I thought, monsieur, that she was very +anxious not to be seen. So when I saw your advertisement I was +certain that this was the young lady for whom you are searching. +"I waited for a few moments and saw the carriage drive off towards +the stable at the end of the street. But no light went up in any +of the rooms in front of the house. And M. Gobin was so fretful +that I dropped the corner of the blind, lit the candle, and gave +him his cooling drink. His watch was on the table at the bedside, +and I saw that it was five minutes to three. I will send you a +telegram tomorrow, as soon as I am sure at what hour I can leave +my husband. Accept, monsieur, I beg you, my most distinguished +salutations. + +"MARTHE GOBIN." + +Hanaud leant back with an extraordinary look of perplexity upon +his face. But to Ricardo the whole story was now clear. Here was +an independent witness, without the jealousy or rancours of Helene +Vauquier. Nothing could be more damning than her statement; it +corroborated those footmarks upon the soil in front of the glass +door of the salon. There was nothing to be done except to set +about arresting Mlle. Celie at once. + +"The facts work with your theory, M. Hanaud. The young man with +the black moustache did not return to the house at Geneva. For +somewhere upon the road close to Geneva he met the carriage. He +was driving back the car to Aix--" And then another thought struck +him: "But no!" he cried. "We are altogether wrong. See! They did +not reach home until five minutes to three." + +Five minutes to three! But this demolished the whole of Hanaud's +theory about the motor-car. The murderers had left the villa +between eleven and twelve, probably before half-past eleven. The +car was a machine of sixty horse-power, and the roads were certain +to be clear. Yet the travellers only reached their home at three. +Moreover, the car was back in Aix at four. It was evident they did +not travel by the car. + +"Geneva time is an hour later than French time," said Hanaud +shortly. It seemed as if the corroboration of this letter +disappointed him. "A quarter to three in Mme. Gobin's house would +be a quarter to two by our watches here." + +Hanaud folded up the letter, and rose to his feet. + +"We will go now, and we will take this letter with us." Hanaud +looked about the room, and picked up a glove lying upon a table. +"I left this behind me," he said, putting it into his pocket. "By +the way, where is the telegram from Marthe Gobin?" + +"You put it in your letter-case." + +"Oh, did I?" + +Hanaud took out his letter-case and found the telegram within it. +His face lightened. + +"Good!" he said emphatically. "For, since we have this telegram, +there must have been another message sent from Adele Rossignol to +Aix saying that Marthe Gobin, that busybody, that inquisitive +neighbour, who had no doubt seen M. Ricardo's advertisement, was +on her way hither. Oh it will not be put as crudely as that, but +that is what the message will mean. We shall have him." And +suddenly his face grew very stern. "I MUST catch him, for Marthe +Gobin's death I cannot forgive. A poor woman meaning no harm, and +murdered like a sheep under our noses. No, that I cannot forgive." + +Ricardo wondered whether it was the actual murder of Marthe Gobin +or the fact that he had been beaten and outwitted which Hanaud +could not forgive. But discretion kept him silent. + +"Let us go," said Hanaud. "By the lift, if you please; it will +save time." + +They descended into the hall close by the main door. The body of +Marthe Gobin had been removed to the mortuary of the town. The +life of the hotel had resumed its course. + +"M. Besnard has gone, I suppose?" Hanaud asked of the porter; and, +receiving an assent, he walked quickly out of the front door. + +"But there is a shorter way," said Ricardo, running after him: +"across the garden at the back and down the steps." + +"It will make no difference now," said Hanaud. + +They hurried along the drive and down the road which circled round +the hotel and dipped to the town. + +Behind Hanaud's hotel Ricardo's car was waiting. + +"We must go first to Besnard's office. The poor man will be at his +wits' end to know who was Mme. Gobin and what brought her to Aix. +Besides, I wish to send a message over the telephone." + +Hanaud descended and spent a quarter of an hour with the +Commissaire. As he came out he looked at his watch. + +"We shall be in time, I think," he said. He climbed into the car. +"The murder of Marthe Gobin on her way from the station will put +our friends at their ease. It will be published, no doubt, in the +evening papers, and those good people over there in Geneva will +read it with amusement. They do not know that Marthe Gobin wrote a +letter yesterday night. Come, let us go!" + +"Where to?" asked Ricardo. + +"Where to?" exclaimed Hanaud. "Why, of course, to Geneva." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ALUMINIUM FLASK + + +"I have telephoned to Lemerre, the Chef de la Surete at Geneva," +said Hanaud, as the car sped out of Aix along the road to Annecy. +"He will have the house watched. We shall be in time. They will do +nothing until dark." + +But though he spoke confidently there was a note of anxiety in his +voice, and he sat forward in the car, as though he were already +straining his eyes to see Geneva. + +Ricardo was a trifle disappointed. They were on the great journey +to Geneva. They were going to arrest Mlle. Celie and her +accomplices. And Hanaud had not come disguised. Hanaud, in +Ricardo's eyes, was hardly living up to the dramatic expedition on +which they had set out. It seemed to him that there was something +incorrect in the great detective coming out on the chase without a +false beard. + +"But, my dear friend, why shouldn't I?" pleaded Hanaud. "We are +going to dine together at the Restaurant du Nord, over the lake, +until it grows dark. It is not pleasant to eat one's soup in a +false beard. Have you tried it? Besides, everybody stares so, +seeing perfectly well that it is false. Now, I do not want tonight +that people should know me for a detective; so I do not go +disguised." + +"Humorist!" said Mr. Ricardo. + +"There! you have found me out!" cried Hanaud, in mock alarm. +"Besides, I told you this morning that that is precisely what I +am." + +Beyond Annecy, they came to the bridge over the ravine. At the far +end of it, the car stopped. A question, a hurried glance into the +body of the car, and the officers of the Customs stood aside. + +"You see how perfunctory it is," said Hanaud and with a jerk the +car moved on. The jerk threw Hanaud against Mr. Ricardo. Something +hard in the detective's pocket knocked against his companion. + +"You have got them?" he whispered. + +"What?" + +"The handcuffs." + +Another disappointment awaited Ricardo. A detective without a +false beard was bad enough, but that was nothing to a detective +without handcuffs. The paraphernalia of justice were sadly +lacking. However, Hanaud consoled Mr. Ricardo by showing him the +hard thing; it was almost as thrilling as the handcuffs, for it +was a loaded revolver. + +"There will be danger, then?" said Ricardo, with a tremor of +excitement. "I should have brought mine." + +"There would have been danger, my friend," Hanaud objected +gravely, "if you had brought yours." + +They reached Geneva as the dusk was falling, and drove straight to +the restaurant by the side of the lake and mounted to the balcony +on the first floor. A small, stout man sat at a table alone in a +corner of the balcony. He rose and held out his hands. + +"My friend, M. Lemerre, the Chef de la Surete of Geneva," said +Hanaud, presenting the little man to his companion. + +There were as yet only two couples dining in the restaurant, and +Hanaud spoke so that neither could overhear him. He sat down at +the table. + +"What news?" he asked. + +"None," said Lemerre. "No one has come out of the house, no one +has gone in." + +"And if anything happens while we dine?" + +"We shall know," said Lemerre. "Look, there is a man loitering +under the trees there. He will strike a match to light his pipe." + +The hurried conversation was ended. + +"Good," said Hanaud. "We will dine, then, and be gay." + +He called to the waiter and ordered dinner. It was after seven +when they sat down to dinner, and they dined while the dusk +deepened. In the street below the lights flashed out, throwing a +sheen on the foliage of the trees at the water's side. Upon the +dark lake the reflections of lamps rippled and shook. A boat in +which musicians sang to music, passed by with a cool splash of +oars. The green and red lights of the launches glided backwards +and forwards. Hanaud alone of the party on the balcony tried to +keep the conversation upon a light and general level. But it was +plain that even he was overdoing his gaiety. There were moments +when a sudden contraction of the muscles would clench his hands +and give a spasmodic jerk to his shoulders. He was waiting +uneasily, uncomfortably, until darkness should come. + +"Eat," he cried--"eat, my friends," playing with his own barely +tasted food. + +And then, at a sentence from Lemerre, his knife and fork clattered +on his plate, and he sat with a face suddenly grown white. + +For Lemerre said, as though it was no more than a matter of +ordinary comment: + +"So Mme. Dauvray's jewels were, after all, never stolen?" + +Hanaud started. + +"You know that? How did you know it?" + +"It was in this evening's paper. I bought one on the way here. +They were found under the floor of the bedroom." + +And even as he spoke a newsboy's voice rang out in the street +below them. Lemerre was alarmed by the look upon his friend's +face. + +"Does it matter, Hanaud?" he asked, with some solicitude. + +"It matters--" and Hanaud rose up abruptly. + +The boy's voice sounded louder in the street below. The words +became distinct to all upon that balcony. + +"The Aix murder! Discovery of the jewels!" + +"We must go," Hanaud whispered hoarsely. "Here are life and death +in the balance, as I believe, and there"--he pointed down to the +little group gathering about the newsboy under the trees--"there +is the command which way to tip the scales." + +"It was not I who sent it," said Ricardo eagerly. + +He had no precise idea what Hanaud meant by his words; but he +realised that the sooner he exculpated himself from the charge the +better. + +"Of course it was not you. I know that very well," said Hanaud. He +called for the bill. "When is that paper published?" + +"At seven," said Lemerre. + +"They have been crying it in the streets of Geneva, then, for more +than half an hour." + +He sat drumming impatiently upon the table until the bill should +be brought. + +"By Heaven, that's clever!" he muttered savagely. "There's a man +who gets ahead of me at every turn. See, Lemerre, I take every +care, every precaution, that no message shall be sent. I let it be +known, I take careful pains to let it be known, that no message +can be sent without detection following, and here's the message +sent by the one channel I never thought to guard against and stop. +Look!" + +The murder at the Villa Rose and the mystery which hid its +perpetration had aroused interest. This new development had +quickened it. From the balcony Hanaud could see the groups +thickening about the boy and the white sheets of the newspapers in +the hands of passers-by. + +"Every one in Geneva or near Geneva will know of this message by +now." + +"Who could have told?" asked Ricardo blankly, and Hanaud laughed +in his face, but laughed without any merriment. + +"At last!" he cried, as the waiter brought the bill, and just as +he had paid it the light of a match flared up under the trees. + +"The signal!" said Lemerre. + +"Not too quickly," whispered Hanaud. + +With as much unconcern as each could counterfeit, the three men +descended the stairs and crossed the road. Under the trees a +fourth man joined them--he who had lighted his pipe. + +"The coachman, Hippolyte," he whispered, "bought an evening paper +at the front door of the house from a boy who came down the street +shouting the news. The coachman ran back into the house." + +"When was this?" asked Lemerre. + +The man pointed to a lad who leaned against the balustrade above +the lake, hot and panting for breath. + +"He came on his bicycle. He has just arrived." + +"Follow me," said Lemerre. + +Six yards from where they stood a couple of steps led down from +the embankment on to a wooden landing-stage, where boats were +moored. Lemerre, followed by the others, walked briskly down on to +the landing-stage. An electric launch was waiting. It had an +awning and was of the usual type which one hires at Geneva. There +were two sergeants in plain clothes on board, and a third man, +whom Ricardo recognised. + +"That is the man who found out in whose shop the cord was bought," +he said to Hanaud. + +"Yes, it is Durette. He has been here since yesterday." + +Lemerre and the three who followed him stepped into it, and it +backed away from the stage and, turning, sped swiftly outwards +from Geneva. The gay lights of the shops and the restaurants were +left behind, the cool darkness enveloped them; a light breeze blew +over the lake, a trail of white and tumbled water lengthened out +behind and overhead, in a sky of deepest blue, the bright stars +shone like gold. + +"If only we are in time!" said Hanaud, catching his breath. + +"Yes," answered Lemerre; and in both their voices there was a +strange note of gravity. + +Lemerre gave a signal after a while, and the boat turned to the +shore and reduced its speed. They had passed the big villas. On +the bank the gardens of houses--narrow, long gardens of a street +of small houses--reached down to the lake, and to almost each +garden there was a rickety landing-stage of wood projecting into +the lake. Again Lemerre gave a signal, and the boat's speed was so +much reduced that not a sound of its coming could be heard. It +moved over the water like a shadow, with not so much as a curl of +white at its bows. + +Lemerre touched Hanaud on the shoulder and pointed to a house in a +row of houses. All the windows except two upon the second floor +and one upon the ground floor were in absolute darkness, and over +those upper two the wooden shutters were closed. But in the +shutters there were diamond-shaped holes, and from these holes two +yellow beams of light, like glowing eyes upon the watch, streamed +out and melted in the air. + +"You are sure that the front of the house is guarded?" asked +Hanaud anxiously. + +"Yes," replied Lemerre. + +Ricardo shivered with excitement. The launch slid noiselessly into +the bank and lay hidden under its shadow. Hanaud turned to his +associates with his finger to his lips. Something gleamed darkly +in his hand. It was the barrel of his revolver. Cautiously the men +disembarked and crept up the bank. First came Lemerre, then +Hanaud; Ricardo followed him, and the fourth man, who had struck +the match under the trees, brought up the rear. The other three +officers remained in the boat. + +Stooping under the shadow of the side wall of the garden, the +invaders stole towards the house. When a bush rustled or a tree +whispered in the light wind, Ricardo's heart jumped to his throat. +Once Lemerre stopped, as though his ears heard a sound which +warned him of danger. Then cautiously he crept on again. The +garden was a ragged place of unmown lawn and straggling bushes. +Behind each one Mr. Ricardo seemed to feel an enemy. Never had he +been in so strait a predicament. He, the cultured host of +Grosvenor Square, was creeping along under a wall with Continental +policemen; he was going to raid a sinister house by the Lake of +Geneva. It was thrilling. Fear and excitement gripped him in turn +and let him go, but always he was sustained by the pride of the +man doing an out-of-the-way thing. "If only my friends could see +me now!" The ancient vanity was loud in his bosom. Poor fellows, +they were upon yachts in the Solent or on grouse-moors in +Scotland, or on golf-links at North Berwick. He alone of them all +was tracking malefactors to their doom by Leman's Lake. + +From these agreeable reflections Ricardo was shaken. Lemerre +stopped. The raiders had reached the angle made by the side wall +of the garden and the house. A whisper was exchanged, and the +party turned and moved along the house wall towards the lighted +window on the ground floor. As Lemerre reached it he stooped. Then +slowly his forehead and his eyes rose above the sill and glanced +this way and that into the room. Mr. Ricardo could see his eyes +gleaming as the light from the window caught them. His face rose +completely over the sill. He stared into the room without care or +apprehension, and then dropped again out of the reach of the +light. He turned to Hanaud. + +"The room is empty," he whispered. Hanaud turned to Ricardo. + +"Pass under the sill, or the light from the window will throw your +shadow upon the lawn." + +The party came to the back door of the house. Lemerre tried the +handle of the door, and to his surprise it yielded. They crept +into the passage. The last man closed the door noiselessly, locked +it, and removed the key. A panel of light shone upon the wall a +few paces ahead. The door of the lighted room was open. As Ricardo +stepped silently past it, he looked in. It was a parlour meanly +furnished. Hanaud touched him on the arm and pointed to the table. + +Ricardo had seen the objects at which Hanaud pointed often enough +without uneasiness; but now, in this silent house of crime, they +had the most sinister and appalling aspect. There was a tiny phial +half full of a dark-brown liquid, beside it a little leather case +lay open, and across the case, ready for use or waiting to be +filled, was a bright morphia needle. Ricardo felt the cold creep +along his spine, and shivered. + +"Come," whispered Hanaud. + +They reached the foot of a flight of stairs, and cautiously +mounted it. They came out in a passage which ran along the side of +the house from the back to the front. It was unlighted, but they +were now on the level of the street, and a fan-shaped glass window +over the front door admitted a pale light. There was a street lamp +near to the door, Ricardo remembered. For by the light of it +Marthe Gobin had seen Celia Harland run so nimbly into this house. + +For a moment the men in the passage held their breath. Some one +strode heavily by on the pavement outside--to Mr. Ricardo's ear a +most companionable sound. Then a clock upon a church struck the +half-hour musically, distantly. It was half-past eight. And a +second afterwards a tiny bright light shone. Hanaud was directing +the light of a pocket electric torch to the next flight of stairs. + +Here the steps were carpeted, and once more the men crept up. One +after another they came out upon the next landing. It ran, like +those below it, along the side of the house from the back to the +front, and the doors were all upon their left hand. From beneath +the door nearest to them a yellow line of light streamed out. + +They stood in the darkness listening. But not a sound came from +behind the door. Was this room empty, too? In each one's mind was +the fear that the birds had flown. Lemerre carefully took the +handle of the door and turned it. Very slowly and cautiously he +opened the door. A strong light beat out through the widening gap +upon his face. And then, though his feet did not move, his +shoulders and his face drew back. The action was significant +enough. This room, at all events, was not empty. But of what +Lemerre saw in the room his face gave no hint. He opened the door +wider, and now Hanaud saw. Ricardo, trembling with excitement, +watched him. But again there was no expression of surprise, +consternation, or delight. He stood stolidly and watched. Then he +turned to Ricardo, placed a finger on his lips, and made room. +Ricardo crept on tiptoe to his side. And now he too could look in. +He saw a brightly lit bedroom with a made bed. On his left were +the shuttered windows overlooking the lake. On his right in the +partition wall a door stood open. Through the door he could see a +dark, windowless closet, with a small bed from which the +bedclothes hung and trailed upon the floor, as though some one had +been but now roughly dragged from it. On a table, close by the +door, lay a big green hat with a brown ostrich feather, and a +white cloak. But the amazing spectacle which kept him riveted was +just in front of him. An old hag of a woman was sitting in a chair +with her back towards them. She was mending with a big needle the +holes in an old sack, and while she bent over her work she crooned +to herself some French song. Every now and then she raised her +eyes, for in front of her, under her charge, Mlle. Celie, the girl +of whom Hanaud was in search, lay helpless upon a sofa. The train +of her delicate green frock swept the floor. She was dressed as +Helene Vauquier had described. Her gloved hands were tightly bound +behind her back, her feet were crossed so that she could not have +stood, and her ankles were cruelly strapped together. Over her +face and eyes a piece of coarse sacking was stretched like a mask, +and the ends were roughly sewn together at the back of her head. +She lay so still that, but for the labouring of her bosom and a +tremor which now and again shook her limbs, the watchers would +have thought her dead. She made no struggle of resistance; she lay +quiet and still. Once she writhed, but it was with the uneasiness +of one in pain, and the moment she stirred the old woman's hand +went out to a bright aluminium flask which stood on a little table +at her side. + +"Keep quiet, little one!" she ordered in a careless, chiding +voice, and she rapped with the flask peremptorily upon the table. +Immediately, as though the tapping had some strange message of +terror for the girl's ear, she stiffened her whole body and lay +rigid. + +"I am not ready for you yet, little fool," said the old woman, and +she bent again to her work. + +Ricardo's brain whirled. Here was the girl whom they had come to +arrest, who had sprung from the salon with so much activity of +youth across the stretch of grass, who had run so quickly and +lightly across the pavement into this very house, so that she +should not be seen. And now she was lying in her fine and delicate +attire a captive, at the mercy of the very people who were her +accomplices. + +Suddenly a scream rang out in the garden--a shrill, loud scream, +close beneath the windows. The old woman sprang to her feet. The +girl on the sofa raised her head. The old woman took a step +towards the window, and then she swiftly turned towards the door. +She saw the men upon the threshold. She uttered a bellow of rage. +There is no other word to describe the sound. It was not a human +cry; it was the bellow of an angry animal. She reached out her +hand towards the flask, but before she could grasp it Hanaud +seized her. She burst into a torrent of foul oaths. Hanaud flung +her across to Lemerre's officer, who dragged her from the room. + +"Quick!" said Hanaud, pointing to the girl, who was now struggling +helplessly upon the sofa. "Mlle. Celie!" + +Ricardo cut the stitches of the sacking. Hanaud unstrapped her +hands and feet. They helped her to sit up. She shook her hands in +the air as though they tortured her, and then, in a piteous, +whimpering voice, like a child's, she babbled incoherently and +whispered prayers. Suddenly the prayers ceased. She sat stiff, +with eyes fixed and staring. She was watching Lemerre, and she was +watching him fascinated with terror. He was holding in his hand +the large, bright aluminium flask. He poured a little of the +contents very carefully on to a piece of the sack; and then with +an exclamation of anger he turned towards Hanaud. But Hanaud was +supporting Celia; and so, as Lemerre turned abruptly towards him +with the flask in his hand, he turned abruptly towards Celia too. +She wrenched herself from Hanaud's arms, she shrank violently +away. Her white face flushed scarlet and grew white again. She +screamed loudly, terribly; and after the scream she uttered a +strange, weak sigh, and so fell sideways in a swoon. Hanaud caught +her as she fell. A light broke over his face. + +"Now I understand!" he cried. "Good God! That's horrible." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN THE HOUSE AT GENEVA + + +It was well, Mr. Ricardo thought, that some one understood. For +himself, he frankly admitted that he did not. Indeed, in his view +the first principles of reasoning seemed to be set at naught. It +was obvious from the solicitude with which Celia Harland was +surrounded that every one except himself was convinced of her +innocence. Yet it was equally obvious that any one who bore in +mind the eight points he had tabulated against her must be +convinced of her guilt. Yet again, if she were guilty, how did it +happen that she had been so mishandled by her accomplices? He was +not allowed however, to reflect upon these remarkable problems. He +had too busy a time of it. At one moment he was running to fetch +water wherewith to bathe Celia's forehead. At another, when he had +returned with the water, he was distracted by the appearance of +Durette, the inspector from Aix, in the doorway. + +"We have them both," he said--"Hippolyte and the woman. They were +hiding in the garden." + +"So I thought," said Hanaud, "when I saw the door open downstairs, +and the morphia-needle on the table." + +Lemerre turned to one of the officers. + +"Let them be taken with old Jeanne in cabs to the depot." + +And when the man had gone upon his errand Lemerre spoke to Hanaud. + +"You will stay here tonight to arrange for their transfer to Aix?" + +"I will leave Durette behind," said Hanaud. "I am needed at Aix. +We will make a formal application for the prisoners." He was +kneeling by Celia's side and awkwardly dabbing her forehead with a +wet handkerchief. He raised a warning hand. Celia Harland moved +and opened her eyes. She sat up on the sofa, shivering, and looked +with dazed and wondering eyes from one to another of the strangers +who surrounded her. She searched in vain for a familiar face. + +"You are amongst good friends. Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud with +great gentleness. + +"Oh, I wonder! I wonder!" she cried piteously. + +"Be very sure of it," he said heartily, and she clung to the +sleeve of his coat with desperate hands. + +"I suppose you are friends," she said; "else why--?" and she moved +her numbed limbs to make certain that she was free. She looked +about the room. Her eyes fell upon the sack and widened with +terror. + +"They came to me a little while ago in that cupboard there--Adele +and the old woman Jeanne. They made me get up. They told me they +were going to take me away. They brought my clothes and dressed me +in everything I wore when I came, so that no single trace of me +might be left behind. Then they tied me." She tore off her gloves +and showed them her lacerated wrists. "I think they meant to kill +me--horribly." And she caught her breath and whimpered like a +child. Her spirit was broken. + +"My poor girl, all that is over," said Hanaud. And he stood up. + +But at the first movement he made she cried incisively, "No," and +tightened the clutch of her fingers upon his sleeve. + +"But, mademoiselle, you are safe," he said, with a smile. She +stared at him stupidly. It seemed the words had no meaning for +her. She would not let him go. It was only the feel of his coat +within the clutch of her fingers which gave her any comfort. + +"I want to be sure that I am safe," she said, with a wan little +smile. + +"Tell me, mademoiselle, what have you had to eat and drink during +the last two days?" + +"Is it two days?" she asked. "I was in the dark there. I did not +know. A little bread, a little water." + +"That's what is wrong," said Hanaud. "Come, let us go from here!" + +"Yes, yes!" Celia cried eagerly. She rose to her feet, and +tottered. Hanaud put his arm about her. "You are very kind," she +said in a low voice, and again doubt looked out from her face and +disappeared. "I am sure that I can trust you." + +Ricardo fetched her cloak and slipped it on her shoulders. Then he +brought her hat, and she pinned it on. She turned to Hanaud; +unconsciously familiar words rose to her lips. + +"Is it straight?" she asked. And Hanaud laughed outright, and in a +moment Celia smiled herself. + +Supported by Hanaud she stumbled down the stairs to the garden. As +they passed the open door of the lighted parlour at the back of +the house Hanaud turned back to Lemerre and pointed silently to +the morphia-needle and the phial. Lemerre nodded his head, and +going into the room took them away. They went out again into the +garden. Celia Harland threw back her head to the stars and drew in +a deep breath of the cool night air. + +"I did not think," she said in a low voice, "to see the stars +again." + +They walked slowly down the length of the garden, and Hanaud +lifted her into the launch. She turned and caught his coat. + +"You must come too," she said stubbornly. + +Hanaud sprang in beside her. + +"For tonight," he said gaily, "I am your papa!" + +Ricardo and the others followed, and the launch moved out over the +lake under the stars. The bow was turned towards Geneva, the water +tumbled behind them like white fire, the night breeze blew fresh +upon their faces. They disembarked at the landing-stage, and then +Lemerre bowed to Celia and took his leave. Hanaud led Celia up on +to the balcony of the restaurant and ordered supper. There were +people still dining at the tables. + +One party indeed sitting late over their coffee Ricardo recognised +with a kind of shock. They had taken their places, the very places +in which they now sat, before he and Hanaud and Lemerre had left +the restaurant upon their expedition of rescue. Into that short +interval of time so much that was eventful had been crowded. + +Hanaud leaned across the table to Celia and said in a low voice: + +"Mademoiselle, if I may suggest it, it would be as well if you put +on your gloves; otherwise they may notice your wrists." + +Celia followed his advice. She ate some food and drank a glass of +champagne. A little colour returned to her cheeks. + +"You are very kind to me, you and monsieur your friend," she said, +with a smile towards Ricardo. "But for you--" and her voice shook. + +"Hush!" said Hanaud--"all that is over; we will not speak of it." + +Celia looked out across the road on to the trees, of which the +dark foliage was brightened and made pale by the lights of the +restaurant. Out on the water some one was singing. + +"It seems impossible to me," she said in a low voice, "that I am +here, in the open air, and free." + +Hanaud looked at his watch. + +"Mlle. Celie, it is past ten o'clock. M. Ricardo's car is waiting +there under the trees. I want you to drive back to Aix. I have +taken rooms for you at an hotel, and there will be a nurse from +the hospital to look after you." + +"Thank you, monsieur," she said; "you have thought of everything. +But I shall not need a nurse." + +"But you will have a nurse," said Hanaud firmly. "You feel +stronger now--yes, but when you lay your head upon your pillow, +mademoiselle, it will be a comfort to you to know that you have +her within call. And in a day or two," he added gently, "you will +perhaps be able to tell us what happened on Tuesday night at the +Villa Rose?" + +Celia covered her face with her hands for a few moments. Then she +drew them away and said simply: + +"Yes, monsieur, I will tell you." + +Hanaud bowed to her with a genuine deference. + +"Thank you, mademoiselle," he said, and in his voice there was a +strong ring of sympathy. + +They went downstairs and entered Ricardo's motor car. + +"I want to send a telephone message," said Hanaud, "if you will +wait here." + +"No!" cried Celia decisively, and she again laid hold of his coat, +with a pretty imperiousness, as though he belonged to her. + +"But I must," said Hanaud with a laugh. + +"Then I will come too," said Celia, and she opened the door and +set a foot upon the step. + +"You will not, mademoiselle," said Hanaud, with a laugh. "Will you +take your foot back into that car? That is better. Now you will +sit with your friend, M. Ricardo, whom, by the way, I have not yet +introduced to you. He is a very good friend of yours, +mademoiselle, and will in the future be a still better one." + +Ricardo felt his conscience rather heavy within him, for he had +come out to Geneva with the fixed intention of arresting her as a +most dangerous criminal. Even now he could not understand how she +could be innocent of a share in Mme. Dauvray's murder. But Hanaud +evidently thought she was. And since Hanaud thought so, why, it +was better to say nothing if one was sensitive to gibes. So +Ricardo sat and talked with her while Hanaud ran back into the +restaurant. It mattered very little, however, what he said, for +Celia's eyes were fixed upon the doorway through which Hanaud had +disappeared. And when he came back she was quick to turn the +handle of the door. + +"Now, mademoiselle, we will wrap you up in M. Ricardo's spare +motor-coat and cover your knees with a rug and put you between us, +and then you can go to sleep." + +The car sped through the streets of Geneva. Celia Harland, with a +little sigh of relief, nestled down between the two men. + +"If I knew you better," she said to Hanaud, "I should tell you-- +what, of course, I do not tell you now--that I feel as if I had a +big Newfoundland dog with me." + +"Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud, and his voice told her that he was +moved, "that is a very pretty thing which you have said to me." + +The lights of the city fell away behind them. Now only a glow in +the sky spoke of Geneva; now even that was gone and with a smooth +continuous purr the car raced through the cool darkness. The great +head lamps threw a bright circle of light before them and the road +slipped away beneath the wheels like a running tide. Celia fell +asleep. Even when the car stopped at the Pont de La Caille she did +not waken. The door was opened, a search for contrabrand was made, +the book was signed, still she did not wake. The car sped on. + +"You see, coming into France is a different affair," said Hanaud. + +"Yes," replied Ricardo. + +"Still, I will own it, you caught me napping yesterday. + +"I did?" exclaimed Ricardo joyfully. + +"You did," returned Hanaud. "I had never heard of the Pont de La +Caille. But you will not mention it? You will not ruin me?" + +"I will not," answered. M. Ricardo, superb in his magnanimity. +"You are a good detective." + +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" cried Hanaud in a voice which shook-- +surely with emotion. He wrung Ricardo's hand. He wiped an +imaginary tear from his eye. + +And still Celia slept. M. Ricardo looked at her. He said to Hanaud +in a whisper: + +"Yet I do not understand. The car, though no serious search was +made, must still have stopped at the Pont de La Caille on the +Swiss side. Why did she not cry for help then? One cry and she was +safe. A movement even was enough. Do you understand?" + +Hanaud nodded his head. + +"I think so," he answered, with a very gentle look at Celia. "Yes, +I think so." + +When Celia was aroused she found that the car had stopped before +the door of an hotel, and that a woman in the dress of a nurse was +standing in the doorway. + +"You can trust Marie," said Hanaud. And Celia turned as she stood +upon the ground and gave her hands to the two men. + +"Thank you! Thank you both!" she said in a trembling voice. She +looked at Hanaud and nodded her head. "You understand why I thank +you so very much?" + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "But, mademoiselle"--and he bent over the car +and spoke to her quietly, holding her hand--"there is ALWAYS a big +Newfoundland dog in the worst of troubles--if only you will look +for him. I tell you so--I, who belong to the Surete in Paris. Do +not lose heart!" And in his mind he added: "God forgive me for the +lie." He shook her hand and let it go; and gathering up her skirt +she went into the hall of the hotel. + +Hanaud watched her as she went. She was to him a lonely and +pathetic creature, in spite of the nurse who bore her company. + +"You must be a good friend to that young girl, M. Ricardo," he +said. "Let us drive to your hotel." + +"Yes," said Ricardo. And as they went the curiosity which all the +way from Geneva had been smouldering within him burst into flame. + +"Will you explain to me one thing?" he asked. "When the scream +came from the garden you were not surprised. Indeed, you said that +when you saw the open door and the morphia-needle on the table of +the little room downstairs you thought Adele and the man Hippolyte +were hiding in the garden." + +"Yes, I did think so." + +"Why? And why did the publication that the jewels had been +discovered so alarm you?" + +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Did not you understand that? Yet it is surely +clear and obvious, if you once grant that the girl was innocent, +was a witness of the crime, and was now in the hands of the +criminals. Grant me those premisses, M. Ricardo, for a moment, and +you will see that we had just one chance of finding the girl alive +in Geneva. From the first I was sure of that. What was the one +chance? Why, this! She might be kept alive on the chance that she +could be forced to tell what, by the way, she did not know, +namely, the place where Mme. Dauvray's valuable jewels were +secreted. Now, follow this. We, the police, find the jewels and +take charge of them. Let that news reach the house in Geneva, and +on the same night Mlle. Celie loses her life, and not--very +pleasantly. They have no further use for her. She is merely a +danger to them. So I take my precautions--never mind for the +moment what they were. I take care that if the murderer is in Aix +and gets wind of our discovery he shall not be able to communicate +his news." + +"The Post Office would have stopped letters or telegrams," said +Ricardo. "I understand." + +"On the contrary," replied Hanaud. "No, I took my precautions, +which were of quite a different kind, before I knew the house in +Geneva or the name of Rossignol. But one way of communication I +did not think of. I did not think of the possibility that the news +might be sent to a newspaper, which of course would publish it and +cry it through the streets of Geneva. The moment I heard the news +I knew we must hurry. The garden of the house ran down to the +lake. A means of disposing of Mlle. Celie was close at hand. And +the night had fallen. As it was, we arrived just in time, and no +earlier than just in time. The paper had been bought, the message +had reached the house, Mlle. Celie was no longer of any use, and +every hour she stayed in that house was of course an hour of +danger to her captors." + +"What were they going to do?" asked Ricardo. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"It is not pretty--what they were going to do. We reach the garden +in our launch. At that moment Hippolyte and Adele, who is most +likely Hippolyte's wife, are in the lighted parlour on the +basement floor. Adele is preparing her morphia-needle. Hippolyte +is going to get ready the rowing-boat which was tied at the end of +the landing-stage. Quietly as we came into the bank, they heard or +saw us. They ran out and hid in the garden, having no time to lock +the garden door, or perhaps not daring to lock it lest the sound +of the key should reach our ears. We find that door upon the +latch, the door of the room open; on the table lies the morphia- +needle. Upstairs lies Mlle. Celie--she is helpless, she cannot see +what they are meaning to do." + +"But she could cry out," exclaimed Ricardo. "She did not even do +that!" + +"No, my friend, she could not cry out," replied Hanaud very +seriously. "I know why. She could not. No living man or woman +could. Rest assured of that!" + +Ricardo was mystified; but since the captain of the ship would not +show his observation, he knew it would be in vain to press him. + +"Well, while Adele was preparing her morphia-needle and Hippolyte +was about to prepare the boat, Jeanne upstairs was making her +preparation too. She was mending a sack. Did you see Mlle. Celie's +eyes and face when first she saw that sack? Ah! she understood! +They meant to give her a dose of morphia, and, as soon as she +became unconscious, they were going perhaps to take some terrible +precaution--" Hanaud paused for a second. "I only say perhaps as +to that. But certainly they were going to sew her up in that sack, +row her well out across the lake, fix a weight to her feet, and +drop her quietly overboard. She was to wear everything which she +had brought with her to the house. Mlle. Celie would have +disappeared for ever, and left not even a ripple upon the water to +trace her by!" + +Ricardo clenched his hands. + +"But that's horrible!" he cried; and as he uttered the words the +car swerved into the drive and stopped before the door of the +Hotel Majestic. + +Ricardo sprang out. A feeling of remorse seized hold of him. All +through that evening he had not given one thought to Harry +Wethermill, so utterly had the excitement of each moment engrossed +his mind. + +"He will be glad to know!" cried Ricardo. "Tonight, at all events, +he shall sleep. I ought to have telegraphed to him from Geneva +that we and Miss Celia were coming back." He ran up the steps into +the hotel. + +"I took care that he should know," said Hanaud, as he followed in +Ricardo's steps. + +"Then the message could not have reached him, else he would have +been expecting us," replied Ricardo, as he hurried into the +office, where a clerk sat at his books. + +"Is Mr. Wethermill in?" he asked. + +The clerk eyed him strangely. + +"Mr. Wethermill was arrested this evening," he said. + +Ricardo stepped back. + +"Arrested! When?" + +"At twenty-five minutes past ten," replied the clerk shortly. + +"Ah," said Hanaud quietly. "That was my telephone message." + +Ricardo stared in stupefaction at his companion. + +"Arrested!" he cried. "Arrested! But what for?" + +"For the murders of Marthe Gobin and Mme. Dauvray," said Hanaud. +"Good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MR. RICARDO IS BEWILDERED + + +Ricardo passed a most tempestuous night. He was tossed amongst +dark problems. Now it was Harry Wethermill who beset him. He +repeated and repeated the name, trying to grasp the new and +sinister suggestion which, if Hanaud were right, its sound must +henceforth bear. Of course Hanaud might be wrong. Only, if he were +wrong, how had he come to suspect Harry Wethermill? What had first +directed his thoughts to that seemingly heart-broken man? And +when? Certain recollections became vivid in Mr. Ricardo's mind-- +the luncheon at the Villa Rose, for instance. Hanaud had been so +insistent that the woman with the red hair was to be found in +Geneva, had so clearly laid it down that a message, a telegram, a +letter from Aix to Geneva, would enable him to lay his hands upon +the murderer in Aix. He was isolating the house in Geneva even so +early in the history of his investigations, even so soon he +suspected Harry Wethermill. Brains and audacity--yes, these two +qualities he had stipulated in the criminal. Ricardo now for the +first time understood the trend of all Hanaud's talk at that +luncheon. He was putting Harry Wethermill upon his guard, he was +immobilising him, he was fettering him in precautions; with a +subtle skill he was forcing him to isolate himself. And he was +doing it deliberately to save the life of Celia Harland in Geneva. +Once Ricardo lifted himself up with the hair stirring on his +scalp. He himself had been with Wethermill in the baccarat-rooms +on the very night of the murder. They had walked together up the +hill to the hotel. It could not be that Harry Wethermill was +guilty. And yet, he suddenly remembered, they had together left +the rooms at an early hour. It was only ten o'clock when they had +separated in the hall, when they had gone, each to his own room. +There would have been time for Wethermill to reach the Villa Rose +and do his dreadful work upon that night before twelve, if all had +been arranged beforehand, if all went as it had been arranged. And +as he thought upon the careful planning of that crime, and +remembered Wethermill's easy chatter as they had strolled from +table to table in the Villa des Fleurs, Ricardo shuddered. Though +he encouraged a taste for the bizarre, it was with an effort. He +was naturally of an orderly mind, and to touch the eerie or +inhuman caused him a physical discomfort. So now he marvelled in a +great uneasiness at the calm placidity with which Wethermill had +talked, his arm in his, while the load of so dark a crime to be +committed within the hour lay upon his mind. Each minute he must +have been thinking, with a swift spasm of the heart, "Should such +a precaution fail--should such or such an unforeseen thing +intervene," yet there had been never a sign of disturbance, never +a hint of any disquietude. + +Then Ricardo's thoughts turned as he tossed upon his bed to Celia +Harland, a tragic and a lonely figure. He recalled the look of +tenderness upon her face when her eyes had met Harry Wethermill's +across the baccarat-table in the Villa des Fleurs. He gained some +insight into the reason why she had clung so desperately to +Hanaud's coat-sleeve yesterday. Not merely had he saved her life. +She was lying with all her world of trust and illusion broken +about her, and Hanaud had raised her up. She had found some one +whom she trusted--the big Newfoundland dog, as she expressed it. +Mr. Ricardo was still thinking of Celia Harland when the morning +came. He fell asleep, and awoke to find Hanaud by his bed. + +"You will be wanted today," said Hanaud. + +Ricardo got up and walked down from the hotel with the detective. +The front door faces the hillside of Mont Revard, and on this side +Mr. Ricardo's rooms looked out. The drive from the front door +curves round the end of the long building and joins the road, +which then winds down towards the town past the garden at the back +of the hotel. Down this road the two men walked, while the +supporting wall of the garden upon their right hand grew higher +and higher above their heads. They came to a steep flight of steps +which makes a short cut from the hotel to the road, and at the +steps Hanaud stopped. + +"Do you see?" he said. "On the opposite side there are no houses; +there is only a wall. Behind the wall there are climbing gardens +and the ground falls steeply to the turn of the road below. +There's a flight of steps leading down which corresponds with the +flight of steps from the garden. Very often there's a serjent-de- +ville stationed on the top of the steps. But there was not one +there yesterday afternoon at three. Behind us is the supporting +wall of the hotel garden. Well, look about you. We cannot be seen +from the hotel. There's not a soul in sight--yes, there's some one +coming up the hill, but we have been standing here quite long +enough for you to stab me and get back to your coffee on the +verandah of the hotel." + +Ricardo started back. + +"Marthe Gobin!" he cried. "It was here, then?" + +Hanaud nodded. + +"When we returned from the station in your motor-car and went up +to your rooms we passed Harry Wethermill sitting upon the verandah +over the garden drinking his coffee. He had the news then that +Marthe Gobin was on her way." + +"But you had isolated the house in Geneva. How could he have the +news?" exclaimed Ricardo, whose brain was whirling. + +"I had isolated the house from him, in the sense that he dared not +communicate with his accomplices. That is what you have to +remember. He could not even let them know that they must not +communicate with him. So he received a telegram. It was carefully +worded. No doubt he had arranged the wording of any message with +the care which was used in all the preparations. It ran like +this"--and Hanaud took a scrap of paper from his pocket and read +out from it a copy of the telegram: "'Agent arrives Aix 3.7 to +negotiate purchase of your patent.' The telegram was handed in at +Geneva station at 12.45, five minutes after the train had left +which carried Marthe Gobin to Aix. And more, it was handed in by a +man strongly resembling Hippolyte Tace"--that we know." + +"That was madness," said Ricardo. + +"But what else could they do over there in Geneva? They did not +know that Harry Wethermill was suspected. Harry Wethermill had no +idea of it himself. But, even if they had known, they must take +the risk. Put yourself into their place for a moment. They had +seen my advertisement about Celie Harland in the Geneva paper. +Marthe Gobin, that busybody who was always watching her +neighbours, was no doubt watched herself. They see her leave the +house, an unusual proceeding for her with her husband ill, as her +own letter tells us. Hippolyte follows her to the station, sees +her take her ticket to Aix and mount into the train. He must guess +at once that she saw Celie Harland enter their house, that she is +travelling to Aix with the information of her whereabouts. At all +costs she must be prevented from giving that information. At all +risks, therefore, the warning telegram must be sent to Harry +Wethermill." + +Ricardo recognised the force of the argument. + +"If only you had heard of the telegram yesterday in time!" he +cried. + +"Ah, yes!" Hanaud agreed. "But it was only sent off at a quarter +to one. It was delivered to Wethermill and a copy was sent to the +Prefecture, but the telegram was delivered first." + +"When was it delivered to Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. + +"At three. We had already left for the station. Wethermill was +sitting on the verandah. The telegram was brought to him there. It +was brought by a waiter in the hotel who remembers the incident +very well. Wethermill has seven minutes and the time it will take +for Marthe Gobin to drive from the station to the Majestic. What +does he do? He runs up first to your rooms, very likely not yet +knowing what he must do. He runs up to verify his telegram." + +"Are you sure of that?" cried Ricardo. "How can you be? You were +at the station with me. What makes you sure?" + +Hanaud produced a brown kid glove from his pocket. + +"This." + +"That is your glove; you told me so yesterday." + +"I told you so," replied Hanaud calmly; "but it is not my glove. +It is Wethermill's; there are his initials stamped upon the +lining--see? I picked up that glove in your room, after we had +returned from the station. It was not there before. He went to +your rooms. No doubt he searched for a telegram. Fortunately he +did not examine your letters, or Marthe Gobin would never have +spoken to us as she did after she was dead," + +"Then what did he do?" asked Ricardo eagerly; and, though Hanaud +had been with him at the entrance to the station all this while, +he asked the question in absolute confidence that the true answer +would be given to him. + +"He returned to the verandah wondering what he should do. He saw +us come back from the station in the motor-car and go up to your +room. We were alone. Marthe Gobin, then, was following. There was +his chance. Marthe Gobin must not reach us, must not tell her news +to us. He ran down the garden steps to the gate. No one could see +him from the hotel. Very likely he hid behind the trees, whence he +could watch the road. A cab comes up the hill; there's a woman in +it--not quite the kind of woman who stays at your hotel, M. +Ricardo. Yet she must be going to your hotel, for the road ends. +The driver is nodding on his box, refusing to pay any heed to his +fare lest again she should bid him hurry. His horse is moving at a +walk. Wethermill puts his head in at the window and asks if she +has come to see M. Ricardo. Anxious for her four thousand francs, +she answers 'Yes.' Perhaps he steps into the cab, perhaps as he +walks by the side he strikes, and strikes hard and strikes surely. +Long before the cab reaches the hotel he is back again on the +verandah." + +"Yes," said Ricardo, "it's the daring of which you spoke which +made the crime possible--the same daring which made him seek your +help. That was unexampled." + +"No," replied Hanaud. "There's an historic crime in your own +country, monsieur. Cries for help were heard in a by-street of a +town. When people ran to answer them, a man was found kneeling by +a corpse. It was the kneeling man who cried for help, but it was +also the kneeling man who did the murder. I remembered that when I +first began to suspect Harry Wethermill." + +Ricardo turned eagerly. + +"And when--when did you first begin to suspect Harry Wethermill?" + +Hanaud smiled and shook his head. + +"That you shall know in good time. I am the captain of the ship." +His voice took on a deeper note. "But I prepare you. Listen! +Daring and brains, those were the property of Harry Wethermill-- +yes. But it is not he who is the chief actor in the crime. Of that +I am sure. He was no more than one of the instruments." + +"One of the instruments? Used, then, by whom?" asked Ricardo. + +"By my Normandy peasant-woman, M. Ricardo," said Hanaud. "Yes, +there's the dominating figure--cruel, masterful, relentless--that +strange woman, Helene Vauquier. You are surprised? You will see! +It is not the man of intellect and daring; it's my peasant-woman +who is at the bottom of it all." + +"But she's free!" exclaimed Ricardo. "You let her go free!" + +"Free!" repeated Ricardo. "She was driven straight from the Villa +Rose to the depot. She has been kept au secret ever since." + +Ricardo stared in amazement. + +"Already you knew of her guilt?" + +"Already she had lied to me in her description of Adele Rossignol. +Do you remember what she said--a black-haired woman with beady +eyes; and I only five minutes before had picked up from the table- +-this." + +He opened his pocket-book, and took from an envelope a long strand +of red hair. + +"But it was not only because she lied that I had her taken to the +depot. A pot of cold cream had disappeared from the room of Mlle +Celie." + +"Then Perrichet after all was right." + +"Perrichet after all was quite wrong--not to hold his tongue. For +in that pot of cold cream, as I was sure, were hidden those +valuable diamond earrings which Mlle. Celie habitually wore." + +The two men had reached the square in front of the Etablissement +des Bains. Ricardo dropped on to a bench and wiped his forehead. + +"But I am in a maze," he cried. "My head turns round. I don't know +where I am." + +Hanaud stood in front of Ricardo, smiling. He was not displeased +with his companion's bewilderment; it was all so much of tribute +to himself. + +"I am the captain of the ship," he said. + +His smile irritated Ricardo, who spoke impatiently. + +"I should be very glad," he said, "if you would tell me how you +discovered all these things. And what it was that the little salon +on the first morning had to tell to you? And why Celia Harland ran +from the glass doors across the grass to the motor-car and again +from the carriage into the house on the lake? Why she did not +resist yesterday evening? Why she did not cry for help? How much +of Helene Vauquier's evidence was true and how much false? For +what reason Wethermill concerned himself in this affair? Oh! and a +thousand things which I don't understand." + +"Ah, the cushions, and the scrap of paper, and the aluminium +flask," said Hanaud; and the triumph faded from his face. He spoke +now to Ricardo with a genuine friendliness. "You must not be angry +with me if I keep you in the dark for a little while. I, too, Mr. +Ricardo, have artistic inclinations. I will not spoil the +remarkable story which I think Mlle. Celie will be ready to tell +us. Afterwards I will willingly explain to you what I read in the +evidences of the room, and what so greatly puzzled me then. But it +is not the puzzle or its solution," he said modestly, "which is +most interesting here. Consider the people. Mme. Dauvray, the old, +rich, ignorant woman, with her superstitions and her generosity, +her desire to converse with Mme. de Montespan and the great ladies +of the past, and her love of a young, fresh face about her; Helene +Vauquier, the maid with her six years of confidential service, who +finds herself suddenly supplanted and made to tend and dress in +dainty frocks the girl who has supplanted her; the young girl +herself, that poor child, with her love of fine clothes, the +Bohemian who, brought up amidst trickeries and practising them as +a profession, looking upon them and upon misery and starvation and +despair as the commonplaces of life, keeps a simplicity and a +delicacy and a freshness which would have withered in a day had +she been brought up otherwise; Harry Wethermill, the courted and +successful man of genius. + +"Just imagine if you can what his feelings must have been, when in +Mme. Dauvray's bedroom, with the woman he had uselessly murdered +lying rigid beneath the sheet, he saw me raise the block of wood +from the inlaid floor and take out one by one those jewel cases +for which less than twelve hours before he had been ransacking +that very room. But what he must have felt! And to give no sign! +Oh, these people are the interesting problems in this story. Let +us hear what happened on that terrible night. The puzzle--that can +wait." In Mr. Ricardo's view Hanaud was proved right. The +extraordinary and appalling story which was gradually unrolled of +what had happened on that night of Tuesday in the Villa Rose +exceeded in its grim interest all the mystery of the puzzle. But +it was not told at once. + +The trouble at first with Mlle. Celie was a fear of sleep. She +dared not sleep--even with a light in the room and a nurse at her +bedside. When her eyes were actually closing she would force +herself desperately back into the living world. For when she slept +she dreamed through again that dark and dreadful night of Tuesday +and the two days which followed it, until at some moment endurance +snapped and she woke up screaming. But youth, a good constitution, +and a healthy appetite had their way with her in the end. + +She told her share of the story--she told what happened. There was +apparently one terrible scene when she was confronted with Harry +Wethermill in the office of Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge +d'lnstruction, and on her knees, with the tears streaming down her +face, besought him to confess the truth. For a long while he held +out. And then there came a strange and human turn to the affair. +Adele Rossignol--or, to give her real name, Adele Tace, the wife +of Hippolyte--had conceived a veritable passion for Harry +Wethermill. He was of a not uncommon type, cold and callous in +himself, yet with the power to provoke passion in women. And Adele +Tace, as the story was told of how Harry Wethermill had paid his +court to Celia Harland, was seized with a vindictive jealousy. +Hanaud was not surprised. He knew the woman-criminal of his +country--brutal, passionate, treacherous. The anonymous letters in +a woman's handwriting which descend upon the Rue de Jerusalem, and +betray the men who have committed thefts, had left him no +illusions upon that figure in the history of crime. Adele +Rossignol ran forward to confess, so that Harry Wethermill might +suffer to the last possible point of suffering. Then at last +Wethermill gave in and, broken down by the ceaseless +interrogations of the magistrate, confessed in his turn too. The +one, and the only one, who stood firmly throughout and denied the +crime was Helene Vauquier. Her thin lips were kept contemptuously +closed, whatever the others might admit. With a white, hard face, +quietly and respectfully she faced the magistrate week after week. +She was the perfect picture of a servant who knew her place. And +nothing was wrung from her. But without her help the story became +complete. And Ricardo was at pains to write it out. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +CELIA'S STORY + + +The story begins with the explanation of that circumstance which +had greatly puzzled Mr. Ricardo--Celia's entry into the household +of Mme. Dauvray. + +Celia's father was a Captain Harland, of a marching regiment, who +had little beyond good looks and excellent manners wherewith to +support his position. He was extravagant in his tastes, and of an +easy mind in the presence of embarrassments. To his other +disadvantages he added that of falling in love with a pretty girl +no better off than himself. They married, and Celia was born. For +nine years they managed, through the wife's constant devotion, to +struggle along and to give their daughter an education. Then, +however, Celia's mother broke down under the strain and died. +Captain Harland, a couple of years later, went out of the service +with discredit, passed through the bankruptcy court, and turned +showman. His line was thought-reading; he enlisted the services of +his daughter, taught her the tricks of his trade, and became "The +Great Fortinbras" of the music-halls. Captain Harland would move +amongst the audience, asking the spectators in a whisper to think +of a number or of an article in their pockets, after the usual +fashion, while the child, in her short frock, with her long fair +hair tied back with a ribbon, would stand blind-folded upon the +platform and reel off the answers with astonishing rapidity. She +was singularly quick, singularly receptive. + +The undoubted cleverness of the performance, and the beauty of the +child, brought to them a temporary prosperity. The Great +Fortinbras rose from the music-halls to the assembly rooms of +provincial towns. The performance became genteel, and ladies +flocked to the matinees. + +The Great Fortinbras dropped his pseudonym and became once more +Captain Harland. + +As Celia grew up, he tried a yet higher flight--he became a +spiritualist, with Celia for his medium. The thought-reading +entertainments became thrilling seances, and the beautiful child, +now grown into a beautiful girl of seventeen, created a greater +sensation as a medium in a trance than she had done as a lightning +thought-reader. + +"I saw no harm in it," Celia explained to M. Fleuriot, without any +attempt at extenuation. "I never understood that we might be doing +any hurt to any one. People were interested. They were to find us +out if they could, and they tried to and they couldn't. I looked +upon it quite simply in that way. It was just my profession. I +accepted it without any question. I was not troubled about it +until I came to Aix." + +A startling exposure, however, at Cambridge discredited the craze +for spiritualism, and Captain Harland's fortunes declined. He +crossed with his daughter to France and made a disastrous tour in +that country, wasted the last of his resources in the Casino at +Dieppe, and died in that town, leaving Celia just enough money to +bury him and to pay her third-class fare to Paris. + +There she lived honestly but miserably. The slimness of her figure +and a grace of movement which was particularly hers obtained her +at last a situation as a mannequin in the show-rooms of a modiste. +She took a room on the top floor of a house in the Rue St. Honore +and settled down to a hard and penurious life. + +"I was not happy or contented--no," said Celia frankly and +decisively. "The long hours in the close rooms gave me headaches +and made me nervous. I had not the temperament. And I was very +lonely--my life had been so different. I had had fresh air, good +clothes, and freedom. Now all was changed. I used to cry myself to +sleep up in my little room, wondering whether I would ever have +friends. You see, I was quite young--only eighteen--and I wanted +to live." + +A change came in a few months, but a disastrous change. The +modiste failed. Celia was thrown out of work, and could get +nothing to do. Gradually she pawned what clothes she could spare; +and then there came a morning when she had a single five-franc +piece in the world and owed a month's rent for her room. She kept +the five-franc piece all day and went hungry, seeking for work. In +the evening she went to a provision shop to buy food, and the man +behind the counter took the five-franc piece. He looked at it, +rung it on the counter, and, with a laugh, bent it easily in half. + +"See here, my little one," he said, tossing the coin back to her, +"one does not buy good food with lead." + +Celia dragged herself out of the shop in despair. She was +starving. She dared not go back to her room. The thought of the +concierge at the bottom of the stairs, insistent for the rent, +frightened her. She stood on the pavement and burst into tears. A +few people stopped and watched her curiously, and went on again. +Finally a sergent-de-ville told her to go away. + +The girl moved on with the tears running down her cheeks. She was +desperate, she was lonely. + +"I thought of throwing myself into the Seine," said Celia simply, +in telling her story to the Juge d'Instruction. "Indeed, I went to +the river. But the water looked so cold, so terrible, and I was +young. I wanted so much to live. And then--the night came, and the +lights made the city bright, and I was very tired and--and--" + +And, in a word, the young girl went up to Montmartre in +desperation, as quickly as her tired legs would carry her. She +walked once or twice timidly past the restaurants, and, finally, +entered one of them, hoping that some one would take pity on her +and give her some supper. She stood just within the door of the +supper-room. People pushed past her--men in evening dress, women +in bright frocks and jewels. No one noticed her. She had shrunk +into a corner, rather hoping not to be noticed, now that she had +come. But the novelty of her surroundings wore off. She knew that +for want of food she was almost fainting. There were two girls +engaged by the management to dance amongst the tables while people +had supper--one dressed as a page in blue satin, and the other as +a Spanish dancer. Both girls were kind. They spoke to Celia +between their dances. They let her waltz with them. Still no one +noticed her. She had no jewels, no fine clothes, no chic--the +three indispensable things. She had only youth and a pretty face. + +"But," said Celia, "without jewels and fine clothes and chic these +go for nothing in Paris. At last, however, Mme. Dauvray came in +with a party of friends from a theatre, and saw how unhappy I was, +and gave me some supper. She asked me about myself, and I told +her. She was very kind, and took me home with her, and I cried all +the way in the carriage. She kept me a few days, and then she told +me that I was to live with her, for often she was lonely too, and +that if I would she would some day find me a nice, comfortable +husband and give me a marriage portion. So all my troubles seemed +to be at an end," said Celia, with a smile. + +Within a fortnight Mme. Dauvray confided to Celia that there was a +new fortune-teller come to Paris, who, by looking into a crystal, +could tell the most wonderful things about the future. The old +woman's eyes kindled as she spoke. She took Celia to the fortune- +teller's rooms next day, and the girl quickly understood the +ruling passion of the woman who had befriended her. It took very +little time then for Celia to notice how easily Mme. Dauvray was +duped, how perpetually she was robbed. Celia turned the problem +over in her mind. + +"Madame had been very good to me. She was kind and simple," said +Celia, with a very genuine affection in her voice. "The people +whom we knew laughed at her, and were ungenerous. But there are +many women whom the world respects who are worse than ever was +poor Mme. Dauvray. I was very fond of her, so I proposed to her +that we should hold a seance, and I would bring people from the +spirit world I knew that I could amuse her with something much +more clever and more interesting than the fortune-tellers. And at +the same time I could save her from being plundered. That was all +I thought about." + +That was all she thought about, yes. She left Helene Vauquier out +of her calculations, and she did not foresee the effect of her +stances upon Mme. Dauvray. Celia had no suspicions of Helene +Vauquier. She would have laughed if any one had told her that this +respectable and respectful middle-aged woman, who was so +attentive, so neat, so grateful for any kindness, was really +nursing a rancorous hatred against her. Celia had sprung from +Montmartre suddenly; therefore Helene Vauquier despised her. Celia +had taken her place in Mme. Dauvray's confidence, had deposed her +unwittingly, had turned the confidential friend into a mere +servant; therefore Helene Vauquier hated her. And her hatred +reached out beyond the girl, and embraced the old, superstitious, +foolish woman, whom a young and pretty face could so easily +beguile. Helene Vauquier despised them both, hated them both, and +yet must nurse her rancour in silence and futility. Then came the +seances, and at once, to add fuel to her hatred, she found herself +stripped of those gifts and commissions which she had exacted from +the herd of common tricksters who had been wont to make their +harvest out of Mme. Dauvray. Helene Vauquier was avaricious and +greedy, like so many of her class. Her hatred of Celia, her +contempt for Mme. Dauvray, grew into a very delirium. But it was a +delirium she had the cunning to conceal. She lived at white heat, +but to all the world she had lost nothing of her calm. + +Celia did not foresee the hatred she was arousing; nor, on the +other hand, did she foresee the overwhelming effect of these +spiritualistic seances on Mme. Dauvray. Celia had never been +brought quite close to the credulous before. + +"There had always been the row of footlights," she said. "I was on +the platform; the audience was in the hall; or, if it was at a +house, my father made the arrangements. I only came in at the last +moment, played my part, and went away. It was never brought home +to me that some amongst these people really and truly believed. I +did not think about it. Now, however, when I saw Mme. Dauvray so +feverish, so excited, so firmly convinced that great ladies from +the spirit world came and spoke to her, I became terrified. I had +aroused a passion which I had not suspected. I tried to stop the +seances, but I was not allowed. I had aroused a passion which I +could not control. I was afraid that Mme. Dauvray's whole life--it +seems absurd to those who did not know her, but those who did will +understand--yes, her whole life and happiness would be spoilt if +she discovered that what she believed in was all a trick." + +She spoke with a simplicity and a remorse which it was difficult +to disbelieve. M. Fleuriot, the judge, now at last convinced that +the Dreyfus affair was for nothing in the history of this crime, +listened to her with sympathy. + +"That is your explanation, mademoiselle," he said gently. "But I +must tell you that we have another." + +"Yes, monsieur?" Celia asked. + +"Given by Helene Vauquier," said Fleuriot. + +Even after these days Celia could not hear that woman's name +without a shudder of fear and a flinching of her whole body. Her +face grew white, her lips dry. + +"I know, monsieur, that Helene Vauquier is not my friend," she +said. "I was taught that very cruelly." + +"Listen, mademoiselle, to what she says," said the judge, and he +read out to Celia an extract or two from Hanaud's report of his +first interview with Helene Vauquier in her bedroom at the Villa +Rose. + +"You hear what she says. 'Mme. Dauvray would have had seances all +day, but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at the +end of them. But Mlle. Celie was of an address.' And again, +speaking of Mme. Dauvray's queer craze that the spirit of Mme. de +Montespan should be called up, Helene Vauquier says: 'She was +never gratified. Always she hoped. Always Mlle. Celie tantalised +her with the hope. She would not spoil her fine affairs by making +these treats too common.' Thus she attributes your reluctance to +multiply your experiments to a desire to make the most profit +possible out of your wares, like a good business woman." + +"It is not true, monsieur," cried Celia earnestly. "I tried to +stop the seances because now for the first time I recognised that +I had been playing with a dangerous thing. It was a revelation to +me. I did not know what to do. Mme. Dauvray would promise me +everything, give me everything, if only I would consent when I +refused. I was terribly frightened of what would happen. I did not +want power over people. I knew it was not good for her that she +should suffer so much excitement. No, I did not know what to do. +And so we all moved to Aix." + +And there she met Harry Wethermill on the second day after her +arrival, and proceeded straightway for the first time to fall in +love. To Celia it seemed that at last that had happened for which +she had so longed. She began really to live as she understood life +at this time. The day, until she met Harry Wethermill, was one +flash of joyous expectation; the hours when they were together a +time of contentment which thrilled with some chance meeting of the +hands into an exquisite happiness. Mme. Dauvray understood quickly +what was the matter, and laughed at her affectionately. + +"Celie, my dear," she said, "your friend, M. Wethermill--'Arry, is +it not? See, I pronounce your tongue--will not be as comfortable +as the nice, fat, bourgeois gentleman I meant to find for you. +But, since you are young, naturally you want storms. And there +will be storms, Celie," she concluded, with a laugh. + +Celia blushed. + +"I suppose there will," she said regretfully. There were, indeed, +moments when she was frightened of Harry Wethermill, but +frightened with a delicious thrill of knowledge that he was only +stern because he cared so much. + +But in a day or two there began to intrude upon her happiness a +stinging dissatisfaction with her past life. At times she fell +into melancholy, comparing her career with that of the man who +loved her. At times she came near to an extreme irritation with +Helene Vauquier. Her lover was in her thoughts. As she put it +herself: + +"I wanted always to look my best, and always to be very good." + +Good in the essentials of life, that is to be understood. She had +lived in a lax world. She was not particularly troubled by the +character of her associates; she was untouched by them; she liked +her fling at the baccarat-tables. These were details, and did not +distress her. Love had not turned her into a Puritan. But certain +recollections plagued her soul. The visit to the restaurant at +Montmartre, for instance, and the seances. Of these, indeed, she +thought to have made an end. There were the baccarat-rooms, the +beauty of the town and the neighbourhood to distract Mme. Dauvray. +Celia kept her thoughts away from seances. There was no seance as +yet held in the Villa Rose. And there would have been none but for +Helene Vauquier. + +One evening, however, as Harry Wethermill walked down from the +Cercle to the Villa des Fleurs, a woman's voice spoke to him from +behind. + +"Monsieur!" + +He turned and saw Mme. Dauvray's maid. He stopped under a street +lamp, and said: + +"Well, what can I do for you?" + +The woman hesitated. + +"I hope monsieur will pardon me," she said humbly. "I am +committing a great impertinence. But I think monsieur is not very +kind to Mlle. Celie." + +Wethermill stared at her. + +"What on earth do you mean?" he asked angrily. + +Helene Vauquier looked him quietly in the face. + +"It is plain, monsieur, that Mlle. Celie loves monsieur. Monsieur +has led her on to love him. But it is also plain to a woman with +quick eyes that monsieur himself cares no more for mademoiselle +than for the button on his coat. It is not very kind to spoil the +happiness of a young and pretty girl, monsieur." + +Nothing could have been more respectful than the manner in which +these words were uttered. Wethermill was taken in by it. He +protested earnestly, fearing lest the maid should become an enemy. + +"Helene, it is not true that I am playing with Mlle. Celie. Why +should I not care for her?" + +Helene Vauquier shrugged her shoulders. The question needed no +answer. + +"Why should I seek her so often if I did not care?" + +And to this question Helene Vauquier smiled--a quiet, slow, +confidential smile. + +"What does monsieur want of Mme. Dauvray?" she asked. And the +question was her answer. + +Wethermill stood silent. Then he said abruptly: + +"Nothing, of course; nothing." And he walked away. + +But the smile remained on Helene Vauquier's face. What did they +all want of Mme. Dauvray? She knew very well. It was what she +herself wanted--with other things. It was money--always money. +Wethermill was not the first to seek the good graces of Mme. +Dauvray through her pretty companion. Helene Vauquier went home. +She was not discontented with her conversation. Wethermill had +paused long enough before he denied the suggestion of her words. +She approached him a few days later a second time and more openly. +She was shopping in, the Rue du Casino when he passed her. He +stopped of his own accord and spoke to her. Helene Vauquier kept a +grave and respectful face. But there was a pulse of joy at her +heart. He was coming to her hand. + +"Monsieur," she said, "you do not go the right way." And again her +strange smile illuminated her face. "Mlle. Celie sets a guard +about Mme. Dauvray. She will not give to people the opportunity to +find madame generous." + +"Oh," said Wethermill slowly. "Is that so?" And he turned and +walked by Helene Vauquier's side. + +"Never speak of Mme. Dauvray's wealth, monsieur, if you would keep +the favour of Mlle. Celie. She is young, but she knows her world." + +"I have not spoken of money to her," replied Wethermill; and then +he burst out laughing. "But why should you think that I--I, of all +men--want money?" he asked. + +And Helene answered him again enigmatically. + +"If I am wrong, monsieur, I am sorry, but you can help me too," +she said, in her submissive voice. And she passed on, leaving +Wethermill rooted to the ground. + +It was a bargain she proposed--the impertinence of it! It was a +bargain she proposed--the value of it! In that shape ran Harry +Wethermill's thoughts. He was in desperate straits, though to the +world's eye he was a man of wealth. A gambler, with no inexpensive +tastes, he had been always in need of money. The rights in his +patent he had mortgaged long ago. He was not an idler; he was no +sham foisted as a great man on an ignorant public. He had really +some touch of genius, and he cultivated it assiduously. But the +harder he worked, the greater was his need of gaiety and +extravagance. Gifted with good looks and a charm of manner, he was +popular alike in the great world and the world of Bohemia. He kept +and wanted to keep a foot in each. That he was in desperate +straits now, probably Helene Vauquier alone in Aix had recognised. +She had drawn her inference from one simple fact. Wethermill asked +her at a later time when they were better acquainted how she had +guessed his need. + +"Monsieur," she replied, "you were in Aix without a valet, and it +seemed to me that you were of that class of men who would never +move without a valet so long as there was money to pay his wages. +That was my first thought. Then when I saw you pursue your +friendship with Mlle. Celie--you, who so clearly to my eyes did +not love her--I felt sure." + +On the next occasion that the two met, it was again Harry +Wethermill who sought Helene Vauquier. He talked for a minute or +two upon indifferent subjects, and then he said quickly: + +"I suppose Mme. Dauvray is very rich?" + +"She has a great fortune in jewels," said Helene Vauquier. + +Wethermill started. He was agitated that evening, the woman saw. +His hands shook, his face twitched. Clearly he was hard put to it. +For he seldom betrayed himself. She thought it time to strike. + +"Jewels which she keeps in the safe in her bedroom," she added. + +"Then why don't you---?" he began, and stopped. + +"I said that I too needed help," replied Helene, without a ruffle +of her composure. + +It was nine o'clock at night. Helene Vauquier had come down to the +Casino with a wrap for Mme. Dauvray. The two people were walking +down the little street of which the Casino blocks the end. And it +happened that an attendant at the Casino, named Alphonse Ruel, +passed them, recognised them both, and--smiled to himself with +some amusement. What was Wethermill doing in company with Mme. +Dauvray's maid? Ruel had no doubt. Ruel had seen Wethermill often +enough these recent days with Mme. Dauvray's pretty companion. +Ruel had all a Frenchman's sympathy with lovers. He wished them +well, those two young and attractive people, and hoped that the +maid would help their plans. + +But as he passed he caught a sentence spoken suddenly by +Wethermill. + +"Well, it is true; I must have money." And the agitated voice and +words remained fixed in his memory. He heard, too, a warning +"Hush!" from the maid. Then they passed out of his hearing. But he +turned and saw that Wethermill was talking volubly. What Harry +Wethermill was saying he was saying in a foolish burst of +confidence. + +"You have guessed it, Helene--you alone." He had mortgaged his +patent twice over--once in France, once in England--and the second +time had been a month ago. He had received a large sum down, which +went to pay his pressing creditors. He had hoped to pay the sum +back from a new invention. + +"But Helene, I tell you," he said, "I have a conscience." And when +she smiled he explained. "Oh, not what the priests would call a +conscience; that I know. But none the less I have a conscience--a +conscience about the things which really matter, at all events to +me. There is a flaw in that new invention. It can be improved; I +know that. But as yet I do not see how, and--I cannot help it--I +must get it right; I cannot let it go imperfect when I know that +it's imperfect, when I know that it can be improved, when I am +sure that I shall sooner or later hit upon the needed improvement. +That is what I mean when I say I have a conscience." + +Helena Vauquier smiled indulgently. Men were queer fish. Things +which were really of no account troubled and perplexed them and +gave them sleepless nights. But it was not for her to object, +since it was one of these queer anomalies which was giving her her +chance. + +"And the people are finding out that you have sold your rights +twice over," she said sympathetically. "That is a pity, monsieur." + +"They know," he answered; "those in England know." + +"And they are very angry?" + +"They threaten me," said Wethermill. "They give me a month to +restore the money. Otherwise there will be disgrace, imprisonment, +penal servitude." + +Helene Vauquier walked calmly on. No sign of the intense joy which +she felt was visible in her face, and only a trace of it in her +voice. + +"Monsieur will, perhaps, meet me tomorrow in Geneva," she said. +And she named a small cafe in a back street. "I can get a holiday +for the afternoon." And as they were near to the villa and the +lights, she walked on ahead. + +Wethermill loitered behind. He had tried his luck at the tables +and had failed. And--and--he must have the money. + +He travelled, accordingly, the next day to Geneva, and was there +presented to Adele Tace and Hippolyte. + +"They are trusted friends of mine," said Helene Vauquier to +Wethermill, who was not inspired to confidence by the sight of the +young man with the big ears and the plastered hair. As a matter of +fact, she had never met them before they came this year to Aix. + +The Tace family, which consisted of Adele and her husband and +Jeanne, her mother, were practised criminals. They had taken the +house in Geneva deliberately in order to carry out some robberies +from the great villas on the lake-side. But they had not been +fortunate; and a description of Mme. Dauvray's jewellery in the +woman's column of a Geneva newspaper had drawn Adele Tace over to +Aix. She had set about the task of seducing Mme. Dauvray's maid, +and found a master, not an instrument. + +In the small cafe on that afternoon of July Helene Vauquier +instructed her accomplices, quietly and methodically, as though +what she proposed was the most ordinary stroke of business. Once +or twice subsequently Wethermill, who was the only safe go- +between, went to the house in Geneva, altering his hair and +wearing a moustache, to complete the arrangements. He maintained +firmly at his trial that at none of these meetings was there any +talk of murder. + +"To be sure," said the judge, with a savage sarcasm. "In decent +conversation there is always a reticence. Something is left to be +understood." + +And it is difficult to understand how murder could not have been +an essential part of their plan, since---But let us see what +happened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE FIRST MOVE + + +On the Friday before the crime was committed Mme. Dauvray and +Celia dined at the Villa des Fleurs. While they were drinking +their coffee Harry Wethermill joined them. He stayed with them +until Mme. Dauvray was ready to move, and then all three walked +into the baccarat rooms together. But there, in the throng of +people, they were separated. + +Harry Wethermill was looking carefully after Celia, as a good +lover should. He had, it seemed, no eyes for any one else; and it +was not until a minute or two had passed that the girl herself +noticed that Mme. Dauvray was not with them. + +"We will find her easily," said Harry. + +"Of course," replied Celia. + +"There is, after all, no hurry," said Wethermill, with a laugh; +"and perhaps she was not unwilling to leave us together." + +Celia dimpled to a smile. + +"Mme. Dauvray is kind to me," she said, with a very pretty +timidity. + +"And yet more kind to me," said Wethermill in a low voice which +brought the blood into Celia's cheeks. + +But even while he spoke he soon caught sight of Mme. Dauvray +standing by one of the tables; and near to her was Adele Tace. +Adele had not yet made Mme. Dauvray's acquaintance; that was +evident. She was apparently unaware of her; but she was gradually +edging towards her. Wethermill smiled, and Celia caught the smile. + +"What is it?" she asked, and her head began to turn in the +direction of Mme. Dauvray. + +"Why, I like your frock--that's all," said Wethermill at once; and +Celia's eyes went down to it. + +"Do you?" she said, with a pleased smile. It was a dress of dark +blue which suited her well. "I am glad. I think it is pretty." And +they passed on. + +Wethermill stayed by the girl's side throughout the evening. Once +again he saw Mme. Dauvray and Adele Tace. But now they were +together; now they were talking. The first step had been taken. +Adele Tace had scraped acquaintance with Mme. Dauvray. Celia saw +them almost at the same moment. + +"Oh, there is Mme. Dauvray," she cried, taking a step towards her. + +Wethermill detained the girl. + +"She seems quite happy," he said; and, indeed, Mme. Dauvray was +talking volubly and with the utmost interest, the jewels sparkling +about her neck. She raised her head, saw Celia, nodded to her +affectionately, and then pointed her out to her companion. Adele +Tace looked the girl over with interest and smiled contentedly. +There was nothing to be feared from her. Her youth, her very +daintiness, seemed to offer her as the easiest of victims. + +"You see Mme. Dauvray does not want you," said Harry Wethermill. +"Let us go and play chemin-de-fer"; and they did, moving off into +one of the further rooms. + +It was not until another hour had passed that Celia rose and went +in search of Mme. Dauvray. She found her still talking earnestly +to Adele Tace. Mme. Dauvray got up at once. + +"Are you ready to go, dear?" she asked, and she turned to Adele +Tace. "This is Celie, Mme. Rossignol," she said, and she spoke +with a marked significance and a note of actual exultation in her +voice. + +Celia, however, was not unused to this tone. Mme. Dauvray was +proud of her companion, and had a habit of showing her off, to the +girl's discomfort. The three women spoke a few words, and then +Mme. Dauvray and Celia left the rooms and walked to the entrance- +doors. But as they walked Celia became alarmed. + +She was by nature extraordinarily sensitive to impressions. It was +to that quick receptivity that the success of "The Great +Fortinbras" had been chiefly due. She had a gift of rapid +comprehension. It was not that she argued, or deducted, or +inferred. But she felt. To take a metaphor from the work of the +man she loved, she was a natural receiver. So now, although no +word was spoken, she was aware that Mme. Dauvray was greatly +excited--greatly disturbed; and she dreaded the reason of that +excitement and disturbance. + +While they were driving home in the motor-car she said +apprehensively: + +"You met a friend then, to-night, madame?" + +"No," said Mme. Dauvray; "I made a friend. I had not met Mme. +Rossignol before. A bracelet of hers came undone, and I helped her +to fasten it. We talked afterwards. She lives in Geneva." + +Mme. Dauvray was silent for a moment or two. Then she turned +impulsively and spoke in a voice of appeal. + +"Celie, we talked of things"; and the girl moved impatiently. She +understood very well what were the things of which Mme. Dauvray +and her new friend had talked. "And she laughed. ... I could not +bear it." + +Celia was silent, and Mme. Dauvray went on in a voice of awe: + +"I told her of the wonderful things which happened when I sat with +Helene in the dark--how the room filled with strange sounds, how +ghostly fingers touched my forehead and my eyes. She laughed-- +Adele Rossignol laughed, Celie. I told her of the spirits with +whom we held converse. She would not believe. Do you remember the +evening, Celie, when Mme. de Castiglione came back an old, old +woman, and told us how, when she had grown old and had lost her +beauty and was very lonely, she would no longer live in the great +house which was so full of torturing memories, but took a small +appartement near by, where no one knew her; and how she used to +walk out late at night, and watch, with her eyes full of tears, +the dark windows which had been once so bright with light? Adele +Rossignol would not believe. I told her that I had found the story +afterwards in a volume of memoirs. Adele Rossignol laughed and +said no doubt you had read that volume yourself before the +seance." + +Celia stirred guiltily. + +"She had no faith in you, Celie. It made me angry, dear. She said +that you invented your own tests. She sneered at them. A string +across a cupboard! A child, she said, could manage that; much +more, then, a clever young lady. Oh, she admitted that you were +clever! Indeed, she urged that you were far too clever to submit +to the tests of some one you did not know. I replied that you +would. I was right, Celie, was I not?" + +And again the appeal sounded rather piteously in Mme. Dauvray's +voice. + +"Tests!" said Celia, with a contemptous laugh. And, in truth, she +was not afraid of them. Mme. Dauvray's voice at once took courage. + +"There!" she cried triumphantly. "I was sure. I told her so. +Celie, I arranged with her that next Tuesday--" + +And Celia interrupted quickly. + +"No! Oh, no!" + +Again there was silence; and then Mme. Dauvray said gently, but +very seriously: + +"Celie, you are not kind." + +Celia was moved by the reproach. + +"Oh, madame!" she cried eagerly. "Please don't think that. How +could I be anything else to you who are so kind to me?" + +"Then prove it, Celie. On Tuesday I have asked Mme. Rossignol to +come; and--" The old woman's voice became tremulous with +excitement. "And parhaps--who knows?--perhaps SHE will appear to +us." + +Celia had no doubt who "she" was. She was Mme. de Montespan. + +"Oh, no, madame!" she stammered. "Here, at Aix, we are not in the +spirit for such things," + +And then, in a voice of dread, Mme. Dauvray asked: "Is it true, +then, what Adele said?" + +And Celia started violently. Mme. Dauvray doubted. + +"I believe it would break my heart, my dear, if I were to think +that; if I were to know that you had tricked me," she said, with a +trembling voice. Celia covered her face with her hands. It would +be true. She had no doubt of it. Mme. Dauvray would never forgive +herself--would never forgive Celia. Her infatuation had grown so +to engross her that the rest of her life would surely be +embittered. It was not merely a passion--it was a creed as well. +Celia shrank from the renewal of these seances. Every fibre in her +was in revolt. They were so unworthy--so unworthy of Harry +Wethermill, and of herself as she now herself wished to be. But +she had to pay now; the moment for payment had come. + +"Celie," said Mme. Dauvray, "it isn't true! Surely it isn't true?" + +Celia drew her hands away from her face. + +"Let Mme. Rossignol come on Tuesday!" she cried, and the old woman +caught the girl's hand and pressed it with affection. + +"Oh, thank you! thank you!" she cried. "Adele Rossignol laughs to- +night; we shall convince her on Tuesday, Celie! Celie, I am so +glad!" And her voice sank into a solemn whisper, pathetically +ludicrous. "It is not right that she should laugh! To bring people +back through the gates of the spirit-world--that is wonderful." + +To Celia the sound of the jargon learnt from her own lips, used by +herself so thoughtlessly in past times, was odious. "For the last +time," she pleaded to herself. All her life was going to change; +though no word had yet been spoken by Harry Wethermill, she was +sure of it. Just for this one last time, then, so that she might +leave Mme. Dauvray the colours of her belief, she would hold a +seance at the Villa Rose. + +Mme. Dauvray told the news to Helene Vauquier when they reached +the villa. + +"You will be present, Helene," she cried excitedly. "It will be +Tuesday. There will be the three of us." + +"Certainly, if madame wishes," said Helene submissively. She +looked round the room. "Mlle. Celie can be placed on a chair in +that recess and the curtains drawn, whilst we--madame and madame's +friend and I--can sit round this table under the side windows." + +"Yes," said Celia, "that will do very well." + +It was Madame Dauvray's habit when she was particularly pleased +with Celia to dismiss her maid quickly, and to send her to brush +the girl's hair at night; and in a little while on this night +Helene went to Celia's room. While she brushed Celia's hair she +told her that Servettaz's parents lived at Chambery, and that he +would like to see them. + +"But the poor man is afraid to ask for a day," she said. "He has +been so short a time with madame." + +"Of course madame will give him a holiday if he asks," replied +Celia with a smile. "I will speak to her myself to-morrow." + +"It would be kind of mademoiselle," said Helene Vauquier. "But +perhaps--" She stopped. + +"Well," said Celia. + +"Perhaps mademoiselle would do better still to speak to Servattaz +himself and encourage him to ask with his own lips. Madame has her +moods, is it not so? She does not always like it to be forgotten +that she is the mistress." + +On the next day accordingly Celia did speak to Servettaz, and +Servettaz asked for his holiday. + +"But of course," Mme. Dauvray at once replied. "We must decide +upon a day." + +It was then that Helene Vauquier ventured humbly upon a +suggestion. + +"Since madame has a friend coming here on Tuesday, perhaps that +would be the best day for him to go. Madame would not be likely to +take a long drive that afternoon." + +"No, indeed," replied Mme. Dauvray. "We shall all three dine +together early in Aix and return here." + +"Then I will tell him he may go to-morrow," said Celia. + +For this conversation took place on the Monday, and in the evening +Mme. Dauvray and Celia went as usual to the Villa des Fleurs and +dined there. + +"I was in a bad mind," said Celia, when asked by the Juge +d'Instruction to explain that attack of nerves in the garden which +Ricardo had witnessed. "I hated more and more the thought of the +seance which was to take place on the morrow. I felt that I was +disloyal to Harry. My nerves were all tingling. I was not nice +that night at all," she added quaintly. "But at dinner I +determined that if I met Harry after dinner, as I was sure to do, +I would tell him the whole truth about myself. However, when I did +meet him I was frightened. I knew how stern he could suddenly +look. I dreaded what he would think. I was too afraid that I +should lose him. No, I could not speak; I had not the courage. +That made me still more angry with myself, and so I--I quarrelled +at once with Harry. He was surprised; but it was natural, wasn't +it? What else should one do under such circumstances. except +quarrel with the man one loved? Yes, I really quarrelled with him, +and said things which I thought and hoped would hurt. Then I ran +away from him lest I should break down and cry. I went to the +tables and lost at once all the money I had except one note of +five louis. But that did not console me. And I ran out into the +garden, very unhappy. There I behaved like a child, and Mr. +Ricardo saw me. But it was not the little money I had lost which +troubled me; no, it was the thought of what a coward I was. +Afterwards Harry and I made it up, and I thought, like the little +fool I was, that he wanted to ask me to marry him. But I would not +let him that night. Oh! I wanted him to ask me--I was longing for +him to ask me--but not that night. Somehow I felt that the seance +and the tricks must be all over and done with before I could +listen or answer." + +The quiet and simple confession touched the magistrate who +listened to it with profound pity. He shaded his eyes with his +hand. The girl's sense of her unworthiness, the love she had given +so unstintingly to Harry Wethermill, the deep pride she had felt +in the delusion that he loved her too, had in it an irony too +bitter. But he was aroused to anger against the man. + +"Go on, mademoiselle," he said. But in spite of himself his voice +trembled. + +"So I arranged with him that we should meet on Wednesday, as Mr. +Ricardo heard." + +"You told him that you would 'want him' on Wednesday," said the +Judge quoting Mr. Ricardo's words. + +"Yes," replied Celia. "I meant that the last word of all these +deceptions would have been spoken. I should be free to hear what +he had to say to me. You see, monsieur, I was so sure that I knew +what it was he had to say to me--"and her voice broke upon the +words. She recovered herself with an effort. "Then I went home +with Mme. Dauvray." + +On the morning of Tuesday, however, there came a letter from Adele +Tace, of which no trace was afterwards discovered. The letter +invited Mme. Dauvray and Celia to come out to Annecy and dine with +her at an hotel there. They could then return together to Aix. The +proposal fitted well with Mme. Dauvray's inclinations. She was in +a feverish mood of excitement. + +"Yes, it will be better that we dine quietly together in a place +where there is no noise and no crowd, and where no one knows us," +she said; and she looked up the time-table. "There is a train back +which reaches Aix at nine o'clock," she said, "so we need not +spoil Servettaz' holiday." + +"His parents will be expecting him," Helene Vauquier added. + +Accordingly Servettaz left for Chambery by the 1.50 train from +Aix; and later on in the afternoon Mme. Dauvray and Celia went by +train to Annecy. In the one woman's mind was the queer longing +that "she" should appear and speak to-night; in the girl's there +was a wish passionate as a cry. "This shall be the last time," she +said to herself again and again--"the very last." + +Meanwhile, Helene Vauquier, it must be held, burnt carefully Adele +Taces letter. She was left in the Villa Rose with the charwoman to +keep her company. The charwoman bore testimony that Helene +Vauquier certainly did burn a letter in the kitchen-stove, and +that after she had burned it she sat for a long time rocking +herself in a chair, with a smile of great pleasure upon her face, +and now and then moistening her lips with her tongue. But Helene +Vauquier kept her mouth sealed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE AFTERNOON OF TUESDAY + + +Mme. Dauvray and Celia found Adele Rossignol, to give Adele Tace +the name which she assumed, waiting for them impatiently in the +garden of an hotel at Annecy, on the Promenade du Paquier. She was +a tall, lithe woman, and she was dressed, by the purse and wish of +Helene Vauquier, in a robe and a long coat of sapphire velvet, +which toned down the coarseness of her good looks and lent +something of elegance to her figure. + +"So it is mademoiselle," Adele began, with a smile of raillery, +"who is so remarkably clever." + +"Clever?" answered Celia, looking straight at Adele, as though +through her she saw mysteries beyond. She took up her part at +once. Since for the last time it had got to be played, there must +be no fault in the playing. For her own sake, for the sake of Mme. +Dauvray's happiness, she must carry it off to-night with success. +The suspicions of Adele Rossignol must obtain no verification. She +spoke in a quiet and most serious voice. "Under spirit-control no +one is clever. One does the bidding of the spirit which controls." + +"Perfectly," said Adele in a malicious tone. "I only hope you will +see to it, mademoiselle, that some amusing spirits control you +this evening and appear before us." + +"I am only the living gate by which the spirit forms pass from the +realm of mind into the world of matter," Celia replied. + +"Quite so," said Adele comfortably. "Now let us be sensible and +dine. We can amuse ourselves with mademoiselle's rigmaroles +afterwards." + +Mme. Dauvray was indignant. Celia, for her part, felt humiliated +and small. They sat down to their dinner in the garden, but the +rain began to fall and drove them indoors. There were a few people +dining at the same hour, but none near enough to overhear them. +Alike in the garden and the dining-room, Adele Tace kept up the +same note of ridicule and disbelief. She had been carefully +tutored for her work. She was able to cite the stock cases of +exposure--"les freres Davenport," as she called them, Eusapia +Palladino and Dr. Slade. She knew the precautions which had been +taken to prevent trickery and where those precautions had failed. +Her whole conversation was carefully planned to one end, and to +one end alone. She wished to produce in the minds of her +companions so complete an impression of her scepticism that it +would seem the most natural thing in the world to both of them +that she should insist upon subjecting Celia to the severest +tests. The rain ceased, and they took their coffee on the terrace +of the hotel. Mme. Dauvray had been really pained by the +conversation of Adele Tace. She had all the missionary zeal of a +fanatic. + +"I do hope, Adele, that we shall make you believe. But we shall. +Oh, I am confident we shall." And her voice was feverish. + +Adele dropped for the moment her tone of raillery. + +"I am not unwilling to believe," she said, "but I cannot. I am +interested--yes. You see how much I have studied the subject. But +I cannot believe. I have heard stories of how these manifestations +are produced--stories which make me laugh. I cannot help it. The +tricks are so easy. A young girl wearing a black frock which does +not rustle--it is always a black frock, is it not, because a black +frock cannot be seen in the dark?--carrying a scarf or veil, with +which she can make any sort of headdress if only she is a little +clever, and shod in a pair of felt-soled slippers, is shut up in a +cabinet or placed behind a screen, and the lights are turned down +or out--" Adele broke off with a comic shrug of the shoulders. +"Bah! It ought not to deceive a child." + +Celia sat with a face which WOULD grow red. She did not look, but +none the less she was aware that Mme. Dauvray was gazing at her +with a perplexed frown and some return of her suspicion showing in +her eyes. Adele Tace was not content to leave the subject there. + +"Perhaps," she said, with a smile, "Mlle. Celie dresses in that +way for a seance?" + +"Madame shall see tonight," Celia stammered, and Camille Dauvray +rather sternly repeated her words. + +"Yes, Adele shall see tonight. I myself will decide what you shall +wear, Celie." + +Adele Tace casually suggested the kind of dress which she would +prefer. + +"Something light in colour with a train, something which will hiss +and whisper if mademoiselle moves about the room--yes, and I think +one of mademoiselle's big hats," she said. "We will have +mademoiselle as modern as possible, so that, when the great ladies +of the past appear in the coiffure of their day, we may be sure it +is not Mlle. Celie who represents them." + +"I will speak to Helene," said Mme. Dauvray, and Adele Tace was +content. + +There was a particular new dress of which she knew, and it was +very desirable that Mlle. Celie should wear it tonight. For one +thing, if Celia wore it, it would help the theory that she had put +it on because she expected that night a lover; for another, with +that dress there went a pair of satin slippers which had just come +home from a shoemaker at Aix, and which would leave upon soft +mould precisely the same imprints as the grey suede shoes which +the girl was wearing now. + +Celia was not greatly disconcerted by Mme. Rossignol's +precautions. She would have to be a little more careful, and Mme. +de Montespan would be a little longer in responding to the call of +Mme. Dauvray than most of the other dead ladies of the past had +been. But that was all. She was, however, really troubled in +another way. All through dinner, at every word of the +conversation, she had felt her reluctance towards this seance +swelling into a positive disgust. More than once she had felt +driven by some uncontrollable power to rise up at the table and +cry out to Adele: + +"You are right! It IS trickery. There is no truth in it." + +But she had mastered herself. For opposite to her sat her +patroness, her good friend, the woman who had saved her. The flush +upon Mme. Dauvray's cheeks and the agitation of her manner warned +Celia how much hung upon the success of this last seance. How much +for both of them! + +And in the fullness of that knowledge a great fear assailed her. +She began to be afraid, so strong was her reluctance, that she +would not bring her heart into the task. "Suppose I failed tonight +because I could not force myself to wish not to fail!" she +thought, and she steeled herself against the thought. Tonight she +must not fail. For apart altogether from Mme. Dauvray's happiness, +her own, it seemed, was at stake too. + +"It must be from my lips that Harry learns what I have been," she +said to herself, and with the resolve she strengthened herself. + +"I will wear what you please," she said, with a smile. "I only +wish Mme. Rossignol to be satisfied." + +"And I shall be," said Adele, "if--" She leaned forward in +anxiety. She had come to the real necessity of Helene Vauquier's +plan. "If we abandon as quite laughable the cupboard door and the +string across it; if, in a word, mademoiselle consents that we tie +her hand and foot and fasten her securely in a chair. Such +restraints are usual in the experiments of which I have read. Was +there not a medium called Mlle. Cook who was secured in this way, +and then remarkable things, which I could not believe, were +supposed to have happened?" + +"Certainly I permit it," said Celia, with indifference; and Mme. +Dauvray cried enthusiastically: + +"Ah, you shall believe tonight in those wonderful things!" + +Adele Tace leaned back. She drew a breath. It was a breath of +relief. + +"Then we will buy the cord in Aix," she said. + +"We have some, no doubt, in the house," said Mme. Dauvray. + +Adele shook her head and smiled. + +"My dear madame, you are dealing with a sceptic. I should not be +content." + +Celia shrugged her shoulders. + +"Let us satisfy Mme. Rossignol," she said. + +Celia, indeed, was not alarmed by this last precaution. For her it +was a test less difficult than the light-coloured rustling robe. +She had appeared upon so many platforms, had experienced too often +the bungling efforts of spectators called up from the audience, to +be in any fear. There were very few knots from which her small +hands and supple fingers had not learnt long since to extricate +themselves. She was aware how much in all these matters the +personal equation counted. Men who might, perhaps, have been able +to tie knots from which she could not get free were always too +uncomfortable and self-conscious, or too afraid of hurting her +white arms and wrists, to do it. Women, on the other hand, who had +no compunctions of that kind, did not know how. + +It was now nearly eight o'clock; the rain still held off. + +"We must go," said Mme. Dauvray, who for the last half-hour had +been continually looking at her watch. + +They drove to the station and took the train. Once more the rain +came down, but it had stopped again before the train steamed into +Aix at nine o'clock. + +"We will take a cab," said Mme. Dauvray: "it will save time." + +"It will do us good to walk, madame," pleaded Adele. The train was +full. Adele passed quickly out from the lights of the station in the +throng of passengers and waited in the dark square for the others +to join her. "It is barely nine. A friend has promised to call at the Villa +Rose for me after eleven and drive me back in a motor-car to Geneva, +so we have plenty of time." + +They walked accordingly up the hill, Mme. Dauvray slowly, since +she was stout, and Celia keeping pace with her. Thus it seemed +natural that Adele Tace should walk ahead, though a passer-by +would not have thought she was of their company. At the corner of +the Rue du Casino Adele waited for them and said quickly: + +"Mademoiselle, you can get some cord, I think, at the shop there," +and she pointed to the shop of M. Corval. "Madame and I will go +slowly on; you, who are the youngest, will easily catch us up." +Celia went into the shop, bought the cord, and caught Mme. Dauvray +up before she reached the villa. + +"Where is Mme. Rossignol?" she asked. + +"She went on," said Camille Dauvray. "She walks faster than I do." + +They passed no one whom they knew, although they did pass one who +recognised them, as Perrichet had discovered. They came upon +Adele, waiting for them at the corner of the road, where it turns +down toward the villa. + +"It is near here--the Villa Rose?" she asked. + +"A minute more and we are there." + +They turned in at the drive, closed the gate behind them, and +walked up to the villa. + +The windows and the glass doors were closed, the latticed shutters +fastened. A light burned in the hall. + +"Helene is expecting us," said Mme. Dauvray, for as they +approached she saw the front door open to admit them, and Helene +Vauquier in the doorway. The three women went straight into the +little salon, which was ready with the lights up and a small fire +burning. Celia noticed the fire with a trifle of dismay. She moved +a fire-screen in front of it. + +"I can understand why you do that, mademoiselle," said Adele +Rossignol, with a satirical smile. But Mme. Dauvray came to the +girl's help. + +"She is right, Adele. Light is the great barrier between us and +the spirit-world," she said solemnly. + +Meanwhile, in the hall Helene Vauquier locked and bolted the front +door. Then she stood motionless, with a smile upon her face and a +heart beating high. All through that afternoon she had been afraid +that some accident at the last moment would spoil her plan, that +Adele Tace had not learned her lesson, that Celie would take +fright, that she would not return. Now all those fears were over. +She had her victims safe within the villa. The charwoman had been +sent home. She had them to herself. She was still standing in the +hall when Mme. Dauvray called aloud impatiently: + +"Helene! Helene!" + +And when she entered the salon there was still, as Celia was able +to recall, some trace of her smile lingering upon her face. + +Adele Rossignol had removed her hat and was taking off her gloves. +Mme. Dauvray was speaking impatiently to Celia. + +"We will arrange the room, dear, while Helene helps you to dress. +It will be quite easy. We shall use the recess." + +And Celia, as she ran up the stairs, heard Mme. Dauvray discussing +with her maid what frock she should wear. She was hot, and she +took a hurried bath. When she came from her bathroom she saw with +dismay that it was her new pale-green evening gown which had been +laid out. It was the last which she would have chosen. But she +dared not refuse it. She must still any suspicion. She must +succeed. She gave herself into Helene's hands. Celia remembered +afterwards one or two points which passed barely heeded at the +time. Once while Helene was dressing her hair she looked up at the +maid in the mirror and noticed a strange and rather horrible grin +upon her face, which disappeared the moment their eyes met. Then +again, Helene was extraordinarily slow and extraordinarily +fastidious that evening. Nothing satisfied her, neither the hang +of the girl's skirt, the folds of her sash, nor the arrangement of +her hair. + +"Come, Helene, be quick," said Celia. "You know how madame hates +to be kept waiting at these times. You might be dressing me to go +to meet my lover," she added, with a blush and a smile at her own +pretty reflection in the glass; and a queer look came upon Helene +Vauquier's face. For it was at creating just this very impression +that she aimed. + +"Very well, mademoiselle," said Helene. And even as she spoke Mme. +Dauvray's voice rang shrill and irritable up the stairs. + +"Celie! Celie!" + +"Quick, Helene," said Celia. For she herself was now anxious to +have the seance over and done with. + +But Helene did not hurry. The more irritable Mme. Dauvray became, +the more impatient with Mlle. Celie, the less would Mlle. Celie +dare to refuse the tests Adele wished to impose upon her. But that +was not all. She took a subtle and ironic pleasure to-night in +decking out her victim's natural loveliness. Her face, her slender +throat, her white shoulders, should look their prettiest, her +grace of limb and figure should be more alluring than ever before. +The same words, indeed, were running through both women's minds. + +"For the last time," said Celia to herself, thinking of these +horrible seances, of which to-night should see the end. + +"For the last time," said Helene Vauquier too. For the last time +she laced the girl's dress. There would be no more patient and +careful service for Mlle. Celie after to-night. But she should +have it and to spare to-night. She should be conscious that her +beauty had never made so strong an appeal; that she was never so +fit for life as at the moment when the end had come. One thing +Helene regretted. She would have liked Celia--Celia, smiling at +herself in the glass--to know suddenly what was in store for her! +She saw in imagination the colour die from the cheeks, the eyes +stare wide with terror. + +"Celie! Celie!" + +Again the impatient voice rang up the stairs, as Helene pinned the +girl's hat upon her fair head. Celie sprang up, took a quick step +or two towards the door, and stopped in dismay. The swish of her +long satin train must betray her. She caught up the dress and +tried again. Even so, the rustle of it was heard. + +"I shall have to be very careful. You will help me, Helene?" + +"Of course, mademoiselle. I will sit underneath the switch of the +light in the salon. If madame, your visitor, makes the experiment +too difficult, I will find a way to help you," said Helene +Vauquier, and as she spoke she handed Celia a long pair of white +gloves. + +"I shall not want them," said Celia. + +"Mme. Dauvray ordered me to give them to you," replied Helene. + +Celia took them hurriedly, picked up a white scarf of tulle, and +ran down the stairs. Helene Vauquier listened at the door and +heard madame's voice in feverish anger. + +"We have been waiting for you, Celie. You have been an age." + +Helene Vauquier laughed softly to herself, took out Celia's white +frock from the wardrobe, turned off the lights, and followed her +down to the hall. She placed the cloak just outside the door of +the salon. Then she carefully turned out all the lights in the +hall and in the kitchen and went into the salon. The rest of the +house was in darkness. This room was brightly lit; and it had been +made ready. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE SEANCE + + +Helene Vauquier locked the door of the salon upon the inside and +placed the key upon the mantel-shelf, as she had always done +whenever a seance had been held. The curtains had been loosened at +the sides of the arched recess in front of the glass doors, ready +to be drawn across. Inside the recess, against one of the pillars +which supported the arch, a high stool without a back, taken from +the hall, had been placed, and the back legs of the stool had been +lashed with cord firmly to the pillar, so that it could not be +moved. The round table had been put in position, with three chairs +about it. Mme. Dauvray waited impatiently. Celia stood apparently +unconcerned, apparently lost to all that was going on. Her eyes +saw no one. Adele looked up at Celia, and laughed maliciously. + +"Mademoiselle, I see, is in the very mood to produce the most +wonderful phenomena. But it will be better, I think, madame," she +said, turning to Mme. Dauvray, "that Mlle. Celie should put on +those gloves which I see she has thrown on to a chair. It will be +a little more difficult for mademoiselle to loosen these cords, +should she wish to do so." + +The argument silenced Celia. If she refused this condition now she +would excite Mme. Dauvray to a terrible suspicion. She drew on her +gloves ruefully and slowly, smoothed them over her elbows, and +buttoned them. To free her hands with her fingers and wrists +already hampered in gloves would not be so easy a task. But there +was no escape. Adele Rossignol was watching her with a satiric +smile. Mme. Dauvray was urging her to be quick. Obeying a second +order the girl raised her skirt and extended a slim foot in a +pale-green silk stocking and a satin slipper to match. Adele was +content. Celia was wearing the shoes she was meant to wear. They +were made upon the very same last as those which Celia had just +kicked off upstairs. An almost imperceptible nod from Helene +Vauquier, moreover, assured her. + +She took up a length of the thin cord. + +"Now, how are we to begin?" she said awkwardly. "I think I will +ask you, mademoiselle, to put your hands behind you." + +Celia turned her back and crossed her wrists. She stood in her +satin frock, with her white arms and shoulders bare, her slender +throat supporting her small head with its heavy curls, her big +hat--a picture of young grace and beauty. She would have had an +easy task that night had there been men instead of women to put her +to the test. But the women were intent upon their own ends: Mme. +Dauvray eager for her seance, Adele Tace and Helene Vauquier +for the climax of their plot. + +Celia clenched her hands to make the muscles of her wrists rigid +to resist the pressure of the cord. Adele quietly unclasped them +and placed them palm to palm. And at once Celia became uneasy. It +was not merely the action, significant though it was of Adele's +alertness to thwart her, which troubled Celia. But she was +extraordinarily receptive of impressions, extraordinarily quick to +feel, from a touch, some dim sensation of the thought of the one +who touched her. So now the touch of Adele's swift, strong, +nervous hands caused her a queer, vague shock of discomfort. It +was no more than that at the moment, but it was quite definite as +that. + +"Keep your hands so, please, mademoiselle," said Adele; "your +fingers loose." + +And the next moment Celia winced and had to bite her lip to +prevent a cry. The thin cord was wound twice about her wrists, +drawn cruelly tight and then cunningly knotted. For one second +Celia was thankful for her gloves; the next, more than ever she +regretted that she wore them. It would have been difficult enough +for her to free her hands now, even without them. And upon that a +worse thing befell her. + +"I beg mademoiselle's pardon if I hurt her," said Adele. + +And she tied the girl's thumbs and little fingers. To slacken the +knots she must have the use of her fingers, even though her gloves +made them fumble. Now she had lost the use of them altogether. She +began to feel that she was in master-hands. She was sure of it the +next instant. For Adele stood up, and, passing a cord round the +upper part of her arms, drew her elbows back. To bring any +strength to help her in wriggling her hands free she must be able +to raise her elbows. With them trussed in the small of her back +she was robbed entirely of her strength. And all the time her +strange uneasiness grew. She made a movement of revolt, and at +once the cord was loosened. + +"Mlle. Celie objects to my tests," said Adele, with a laugh, to +Mme. Dauvray. "And I do not wonder." + +Celia saw upon the old woman's foolish and excited face a look of +veritable consternation. + +"Are you afraid, Celie?" she asked. + +There was anger, there was menace in the voice, but above all +these there was fear--fear that her illusions were to tumble about +her. Celia heard that note and was quelled by it. This folly of +belief, these seances, were the one touch of colour in Mme. +Dauvray's life. And it was just that instinctive need of colour +which had made her so easy to delude. How strong the need is, how +seductive the proposal to supply it, Celia knew well. She knew it +from the experience of her life when the Great Fortinbras was at +the climax of his fortunes. She had travelled much amongst +monotonous, drab towns without character or amusements. She had +kept her eyes open. She had seen that it was from the denizens of +the dull streets in these towns that the quack religions won their +recruits. Mme. Dauvray's life had been a featureless sort of +affair until these experiments had come to colour it. Madame +Dauvray must at any rate preserve the memory of that colour. + +"No," she said boldly; "I am not afraid," and after that she moved +no more. + +Her elbows were drawn firmly back and tightly bound. She was sure +she could not free them. She glanced in despair at Helene +Vauquier, and then some glimmer of hope sprang up. For Helene +Vauquier gave her a look, a smile of reassurance. It was as if she +said, "I will come to your help." Then, to make security still +more sure, Adele turned the girl about as unceremoniously as if +she had been a doll, and, passing a cord at the back of her arms, +drew both ends round in front and knotted them at her waist. + +"Now, Celie," said Adele, with a vibration in her voice which +Celia had not remarked before. + +Excitement was gaining upon her, as upon Mme. Dauvray. Her face +was flushed and shiny, her manner peremptory and quick. Celia's +uneasiness grew into fear. She could have used the words which +Hanaud spoke the next day in that very room--"There is something +here which I do not understand." The touch of Adele Tact's hands +communicated something to her--something which filled her with a +vague alarm. She could not have formulated it if she would; she +dared not if she could. She had but to stand and submit. + +"Now," said Adele. + +She took the girl by the shoulders and set her in a clear space in +the middle of the room, her back to the recess, her face to the +mirror, where all could see her. + +"Now, Celie"--she had dropped the "Mlle." and the ironic suavity +of her manner--"try to free yourself." + +For a moment the girl's shoulders worked, her hands fluttered. But +they remained helplessly bound. + +"Ah, you will be content, Adele, to-night," cried Mme. Dauvray +eagerly. + +But even in the midst of her eagerness--so thoroughly had she been +prepared--there lingered a flavour of doubt, of suspicion. In +Celia's mind there was still the one desperate resolve. + +"I must succeed to-night," she said to herself--"I must!" + +Adele Rossignol kneeled on the floor behind her. She gathered in +carefully the girl's frock. Then she picked up the long train, +wound it tightly round her limbs, pinioning and swathing them in +the folds of satin, and secured the folds with a cord about the +knees. + +She stood up again. + +"Can you walk, Celie?" she asked. "Try!" + +With Helene Vauquier to support her if she fell, Celia took a tiny +shuffling step forward, feeling supremely ridiculous. No one, +however, of her audience was inclined to laugh. To Mme. Dauvray +the whole business was as serious as the most solemn ceremonial. +Adele was intent upon making her knots secure. Helene Vauquier was +the well-bred servant who knew her place. It was not for her to +laugh at her young mistress, in however ludicrous a situation she +might be. + +"Now," said Adele, "we will tie mademoiselle's ankles, and then we +shall be ready for Mme. de Montespan." + +The raillery in her voice had a note of savagery in it now. +Celia's vague terror grew. She had a feeling that a beast was +waking in the woman, and with it came a growing premonition of +failure. Vainly she cried to herself, "I must not fail to-night." +But she felt instinctively that there was a stronger personality +than her own in that room, taming her, condemning her to failure, +influencing the others. + +She was placed in a chair. Adele passed a cord round her ankles, +and the mere touch of it quickened Celia to a spasm of revolt. Her +last little remnant of liberty was being taken from her. She +raised herself, or rather would have raised herself. But Helene +with gentle hands held her in the chair, and whispered under her +breath: + +"Have no fear! Madame is watching." + +Adele looked fiercely up into the girl's face. + +"Keep still, hein, la petite!" she cried. And the epithet--"little +one"--was a light to Celia. Till now, upon these occasions, with +her black ceremonial dress, her air of aloofness, her vague eyes, +and the dignity of her carriage, she had already produced some +part of their effect before the seance had begun. She had been +wont to sail into the room, distant, mystical. She had her +audience already expectant of mysteries, prepared for marvels. Her +work was already half done. But now of all that help she was +deprived. She was no longer a person aloof, a prophetess, a seer +of visions; she was simply a smartly-dressed girl of today, +trussed up in a ridiculous and painful position--that was all. The +dignity was gone. And the more she realised that, the more she was +hindered from influencing her audience, the less able she was to +concentrate her mind upon them, to will them to favour her. Mme. +Dauvray's suspicions, she was sure, were still awake. She could +not quell them. There was a stronger personality than hers at work +in the room. The cord bit through her thin stockings into her +ankles. She dared not complain. It was savagely tied. She made no +remonstrance. And then Helene Vauquier raised her up from the +chair and lifted her easily off the ground. For a moment she held +her so. If Celia had felt ridiculous before, she knew that she was +ten times more so now. She could see herself as she hung in Helene +Vauquier's arms, with her delicate frock ludicrously swathed and +swaddled about her legs. But, again, of those who watched her no +one smiled. + +"We have had no such tests as these," Mme. Dauvray explained, half +in fear, half in hope. + +Adele Rossignol looked the girl over and nodded her head with +satisfaction. She had no animosity towards Celia; she had really +no feeling of any kind for her or against her. Fortunately she was +unaware at this time that Harry Wethermill had been paying his +court to her or it would have gone worse with Mlle. Celie before +the night was out. Mlle. Celie was just a pawn in a very dangerous +game which she happened to be playing, and she had succeeded in +engineering her pawn into the desired condition of helplessness. +She was content. + +"Mademoiselle," she said, with a smile, "you wish me to believe. +You have now your opportunity." + +Opportunity! And she was helpless. She knew very well that she +could never free herself from these cords without Helene's help. +She would fail, miserably and shamefully fail. + +"It was madame who wished you to believe," she stammered. + +And Adele Rossignol laughed suddenly--a short, loud, harsh laugh, +which jarred upon the quiet of the room. It turned Celia's vague +alarm into a definite terror. Some magnetic current brought her +grave messages of fear. The air about her seemed to tingle with +strange menaces. She looked at Adele. Did they emanate from her? +And her terror answered her "Yes." She made her mistake in that. +The strong personality in the room was not Adele Rossignol, but +Helene Vauquier, who held her like a child in her arms. But she +was definitely aware of danger, and too late aware of it. She +struggled vainly. From her head to her feet she was powerless. She +cried out hysterically to her patron: + +"Madame! Madame! There is something--a presence here--some one who +means harm! I know it!" + +And upon the old woman's face there came a look, not of alarm, but +of extraordinary relief. The genuine, heartfelt cry restored her +confidence in Celia. + +"Some one--who means harm!" she whispered, trembling with +excitement. + +"Ah, mademoiselle is already under control," said Helene, using +the jargon which she had learnt from Celia's lips. + +Adele Rossignol grinned. + +"Yes, la petite is under control," she repeated, with a sneer; and +all the elegance of her velvet gown was unable to hide her any +longer from Celia's knowledge. Her grin had betrayed her. She was +of the dregs. But Helene Vauquier whispered: + +"Keep still, mademoiselle. I shall help you." + +Vauquier carried the girl into the recess and placed her upon the +stool. With a long cord Adele bound her by the arms and the waist +to the pillar, and her ankles she fastened to the rung of the +stool, so that they could not touch the ground. + +"Thus we shall be sure that when we hear rapping it will be the +spirits, and not the heels, which rap," she said. "Yes, I am +contented now." And she added, with a smile, "Celie may even have +her scarf," and, picking up a white scarf of tulle which Celia had +brought down with her, she placed it carelessly round her +shoulders. + +"Wait!" Helene Vauquier whispered in Celia's ear. + +To the cord about Celia's waist Adele was fastening a longer line. + +"I shall keep my foot on the other end of this," she said, "when +the lights are out, and I shall know then if our little one frees +herself." + +The three women went out of the recess. And the next moment the +heavy silk curtains swung across the opening, leaving Celia in +darkness. Quickly and noiselessly the poor girl began to twist and +work her hands. But she only bruised her wrists. This was to be +the last of the seances. But it must succeed! So much of Mme. +Dauvray's happiness, so much of her own, hung upon its success. +Let her fail to-night, she would be surely turned from the door. +The story of her trickery and her exposure would run through Aix. +And she had not told Harry! It would reach his ears from others. +He would never forgive her. To face the old, difficult life of +poverty and perhaps starvation again, and again alone, would be +hard enough; but to face it with Harry Wethermill's contempt added +to its burdens--as the poor girl believed she surely would have to +do--no, that would be impossible! Not this time would she turn +away from the Seine, because it was so terrible and cold. If she +had had the courage to tell him yesterday, he would have forgiven, +surely he would! The tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down +her cheeks. What would become of her now? She was in pain besides. +The cords about her arms and ankles tortured her. And she feared-- +yes, desperately she feared the effect of the exposure upon Mme. +Dauvray. She had been treated as a daughter; now she was in return +to rob Mme. Dauvray of the belief which had become the passion of +her life. + +"Let us take our seats at the table," she heard Mme. Dauvray say. +"Helene, you are by the switch of the electric light. Will you +turn it off?" And upon that Helene whispered, yet so that the +whisper reached to Celia and awakened hope: + +"Wait! I will see what she is doing." + +The curtains opened, and Helene Vauquier slipped to the girl's +side. + +Celia checked her tears. She smiled imploringly, gratefully. + +"What shall I do?" asked Helene, in a voice so low that the +movement of her mouth rather than the words made the question +clear. + +Celia raised her head to answer. And then a thing incomprehensible +to her happened. As she opened her lips Helene Vauquier swiftly +forced a handkerchief in between the girl's teeth, and lifting the +scarf from her shoulders wound it tightly twice across her mouth, +binding her lips, and made it fast under the brim of her hat +behind her head. Celia tried to scream; she could not utter a +sound. She stared at Helene with incredulous, horror-stricken +eyes. Helene nodded at her with a cruel grin of satisfaction, and +Celia realised, though she did not understand, something of the +rancour and the hatred which seethed against her in the heart of +the woman whom she had supplanted. Helene Vauquier meant to expose +her to-night; Celia had not a doubt of it. That was her +explanation of Helene Vauquier's treachery; and believing that +error, she believed yet another--that she had reached the terrible +climax of her troubles. She was only at the beginning of them. + +"Helene!" cried Mme. Dauvray sharply. "What are you doing?" + +The maid instantly slid back into the room. + +"Mademoiselle has not moved," she said. + +Celia heard the women settle in their chairs about the table. + +"Is madame ready?" asked Helene; and then there was the sound of +the snap of a switch. In the salon darkness had come. + +If only she had not been wearing her gloves, Celia thought, she +might possibly have just been able to free her fingers and her +supple hands from their bonds. But as it was she was helpless. She +could only sit and wait until the audience in the salon grew tired +of waiting and came to her. She closed her eyes, pondering if by +any chance she could excuse her failure. But her heart sank within +her as she thought of Mme. Rossignol's raillery. No, it was all +over for her. ... + +She opened her eyes, and she wondered. It seemed to her that there +was more light in the recess than there had been when she closed +them. Very likely her eyes were growing used to the darkness. Yet- +-yet--she ought not to be able to distinguish quite so clearly the +white pillar opposite to her. She looked towards the glass doors +and understood. The wooden shutters outside the doors were not +quite closed. They had been carelessly left unbolted. A chink from +lintel to floor let in a grey thread of light. Celia heard the +women whispering in the salon, and turned her head to catch the +words. + +"Do you hear any sound?" + +"No." + +"Was that a hand which touched me?" + +"No." + +"We must wait." + +And so silence came again, and suddenly there was quite a rush of +light into the recess. Celia was startled. She turned her head +back again towards the window. The wooden door had swung a little +more open. There was a wider chink to let the twilight of that +starlit darkness through. And as she looked, the chink slowly +broadened and broadened, the door swung slowly back on hinges +which were strangely silent. Celia stared at the widening panel of +grey light with a vague terror. It was strange that she could hear +no whisper of wind in the garden. Why, oh, why was that latticed +door opening so noiselessly? Almost she believed that the spirits +after all... And suddenly the recess darkened again, and Celia sat +with her heart leaping and shivering in her breast. There was +something black against the glass doors--a man. He had appeared as +silently, as suddenly, as any apparition. He stood blocking out +the light, pressing his face against the glass, peering into the +room. For a moment the shock of horror stunned her. Then she tore +frantically at the cords. All thought of failure, of exposure, of +dismissal had fled from her. The three poor women--that was her +thought--were sitting unwarned, unsuspecting, defenceless in the +pitch-blackness of the salon. A few feet away a man, a thief, was +peering in. They were waiting for strange things to happen in the +darkness. Strange and terrible things would happen unless she +could free herself, unless she could warn them. And she could not. +Her struggles were mere efforts to struggle, futile, a shiver from +head to foot, and noiseless as a shiver. Adele Rossignol had done +her work well and thoroughly. Celia's arms, her waist, her ankles +were pinioned; only the bandage over her mouth seemed to be +loosening. Then upon horror, horror was added. The man touched the +glass doors, and they swung silently inwards. They, too, had been +carelessly left unbolted. The man stepped without a sound over the +sill into the room. And, as he stepped, fear for herself drove out +for the moment from Celia's thoughts fear for the three women in +the black room. If only he did not see her! She pressed herself +against the pillar. He might overlook her, perhaps! His eyes would +not be so accustomed to the darkness of the recess as hers. He +might pass her unnoticed--if only he did not touch some fold of +her dress. + +And then, in the midst of her terror, she experienced so great a +revulsion from despair to joy that a faintness came upon her, and +she almost swooned. She saw who the intruder was. For when he +stepped into the recess he turned towards her, and the dim light +struck upon him and showed her the contour of his face. It was her +lover, Harry Wethermill. Why he had come at this hour, and in this +strange way, she did not consider. Now she must attract his eyes, +now her fear was lest he should not see her. + +But he came at once straight towards her. He stood in front of +her, looking into her eyes. But he uttered no cry. He made no +movement of surprise. Celia did not understand it. His face was in +the shadow now and she could not see it. Of course, he was +stunned, amazed. But--but--he stood almost as if he had expected +to find her there and just in that helpless attitude. It was +absurd, of course, but he seemed to look upon her helplessness as +nothing out of the ordinary way. And he raised no hand to set her +free. A chill struck through her. But the next moment he did raise +his hand and the blood flowed again, at her heart. Of course, she +was in the darkness. He had not seen her plight. Even now he was +only beginning to be aware of it. For his hand touched the bandage +over her mouth--tentatively. He felt for the knot under the broad +brim of her hat at the back of her head. He found it. In a moment +she would be free. She kept her head quite still, and then--why +was he so long? she asked herself. Oh, it was not possible! But +her heart seemed to stop, and she knew that it was not only +possible--it was true: he was tightening the scarf, not loosening +it. The folds bound her lips more surely. She felt the ends drawn +close at the back of her head. In a frenzy she tried to shake her +head free. But he held her face firmly and finished his work. He +was wearing gloves, she noticed with horror, just as thieves do. +Then his hands slid down her trembling arms and tested the cord +about her wrists. There was something horribly deliberate about +his movements. Celia, even at that moment, even with him, had the +sensation which had possessed her in the salon. It was the +personal equation on which she was used to rely. But neither Adele +nor this--this STRANGER was considering her as even a human being. +She was a pawn in their game, and they used her, careless of her +terror, her beauty, her pain. Then he freed from her waist the +long cord which ran beneath the curtain to Adele Rossignol's foot. +Celia's first thought was one of relief. He would jerk the cord +unwittingly. They would come into the recess and see him. And then +the real truth flashed in upon her blindingly. He had jerked the +cord, but he had jerked it deliberately. He was already winding it +up in a coil as it slid noiselessly across the polished floor +beneath the curtains towards him. He had given a signal to Adele +Rossignol. All that woman's scepticism and precaution against +trickery had been a mere blind, under cover of which she had been +able to pack the girl away securely without arousing her +suspicions. Helene Vauquier was in the plot, too. The scarf at +Celia's mouth was proof of that. As if to add proof to proof, she +heard Adele Rossignol speak in answer to the signal. + +"Are we all ready? Have you got Mme. Dauvray's left hand, Helene?" + +"Yes, madame," answered the maid. + +"And I have her right hand. Now give me yours, and thus we are in +a circle about the table." + +Celia, in her mind, could see them sitting about the round table +in the darkness, Mme. Dauvray between the two women, securely held +by them. And she herself could not utter a cry--could not move a +muscle to help her. + +Wethermill crept back on noiseless feet to the window, closed the +wooden doors, and slid the bolts into their sockets. Yes, Helene +Vauquier was in the plot. The bolts and the hinges would not have +worked so smoothly but for her. Darkness again filled the recess +instead of the grey twilight. But in a moment a faint breath of +wind played upon Celia's forehead, and she knew that the man had +parted the curtains and slipped into the room. Celia let her head +fall towards her shoulder. She was sick and faint with terror. Her +lover was in this plot--the lover in whom she had felt so much +pride, for whose sake she had taken herself so bitterly to task. +He was the associate of Adele Rossignol, of Helene Vauquier. He +had used her, Celia, as an instrument for his crime. All their +hours together at the Villa des Fleurs--here to-night was their +culmination. The blood buzzed in her ears and hammered in the +veins of her temples. In front of her eyes the darkness whirled, +flecked with fire. She would have fallen, but she could not fall. +Then, in the silence, a tambourine jangled. There was to be a +seance to-night, then, and the seance had begun. In a dreadful +suspense she heard Mme. Dauvray speak. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +HELENE EXPLAINS + + +And what she heard made her blood run cold. + +Mme Dauvray spoke in a hushed, awestruck voice. + +"There is a presence in the room." + +It was horrible to Celia that the poor woman was speaking the +jargon which she herself had taught to her. + +"I will speak to it," said Mme. Dauvray, and raising her voice a +little, she asked: "Who are you that come to us from the spirit- +world?" + +No answer came, but all the while Celia knew that Wethermill was +stealing noiselessly across the floor towards that voice which +spoke this professional patter with so simple a solemnity. + +"Answer!" she said. And the next moment she uttered a little +shrill cry--a cry of enthusiasm. "Fingers touch my forehead--now +they touch my cheek--now they touch my throat!" + +And upon that the voice ceased. But a dry, choking sound was +heard, and a horrible scuffling and tapping of feet upon the +polished floor, a sound most dreadful. They were murdering her-- +murdering an old, kind woman silently and methodically in the +darkness. The girl strained and twisted against the pillar +furiously, like an animal in a trap. But the coils of rope held +her; the scarf suffocated her. The scuffling became a spasmodic +sound, with intervals between, and then ceased altogether. A voice +spoke--a man's voice--Wethermill's. But Celia would never have +recognised it--it had so shrill and fearful an intonation. + +"That's horrible," he said, and his voice suddenly rose to a +scream. + +"Hush!" Helene Vauquier whispered sharply. "What's the matter?" + +"She fell against me--her whole weight. Oh!" + +"You are afraid of her!" + +"Yes, yes!" And in the darkness Wethermill's voice came +querulously between long breaths. "Yes, NOW I am afraid of her!" + +Helene Vauquier replied again contemptuously. She spoke aloud and +quite indifferently. Nothing of any importance whatever, one would +have gathered, had occurred. + +"I will turn on the light," she said. And through the chinks in +the curtain the bright light shone. Celia heard a loud rattle upon +the table, and then fainter sounds of the same kind. And as a kind +of horrible accompaniment there ran the laboured breathing of the +man, which broke now and then with a sobbing sound. They were +stripping Mme. Dauvray of her pearl necklace, her bracelets, and +her rings. Celia had a sudden importunate vision of the old woman's +fat, podgy hands loaded with brilliants. A jingle of keys followed. + +"That's all," Helene Vauquier said. She might have just turned out +the pocket of an old dress. + +There was the sound of something heavy and inert falling with a +dull crash upon the floor. A woman laughed, and again it was +Helene Vauquier. + +"Which is the key of the safe?" asked Adele. + +And Helene Vauquier replied:- + +"That one." + +Celia heard some one drop heavily into a chair. It was Wethermill, +and he buried his face in his hands. Helene went over to him and +laid her hand upon his shoulder and shook him. + +"Do you go and get her jewels out of the safe," she said, and she +spoke with a rough friendliness. + +"You promised you would blindfold the girl," he cried hoarsely. + +Helene Vauquier laughed. + +"Did I?" she said. "Well, what does it matter?" "There would have +been no need to--" And his voice broke off shudderingly. + +"Wouldn't there? And what of us--Adele and me? She knows certainly +that we are here. Come, go and get the jewels. The key of the +door's on the mantelshelf. While you are away we two will arrange +the pretty baby in there." + +She pointed to the recess; her voice rang with contempt. +Wethermill staggered across the room like a drunkard, and picked +up the key in trembling fingers. Celia heard it turn in the lock, +and the door bang. Wethermill had gone upstairs. + +Celia leaned back, her heart fainting within her. Arrange! It was +her turn now. She was to be "arranged." She had no doubt what +sinister meaning that innocent word concealed. The dry, choking +sound, the horrid scuffling of feet upon the floor, were in her +ears. And it had taken so long--so terribly long! + +She heard the door open again and shut again. Then steps +approached the recess. The curtains were flung back, and the two +women stood in front of her--the tall Adele Rossignol with her red +hair and her coarse good looks and her sapphire dress, and the +hard-featured, sallow maid. The maid was carrying Celia's white +coat. They did not mean to murder her, then. They meant to take +her away, and even then a spark of hope lit up in the girl's +bosom. For even with her illusions crushed she still clung to life +with all the passion of her young soul. + +The two women stood and looked at her; and then Adele Rossignol +burst out laughing. Vauquier approached the girl, and Celia had a +moment's hope that she meant to free her altogether, but she only +loosed the cords which fixed her to the pillar and the high stool. + +"Mademoiselle will pardon me for laughing," said Adele Rossignol +politely; "but it was mademoiselle who invited me to try my hand. +And really, for so smart a young lady, mademoiselle looks too +ridiculous." + +She lifted the girl up and carried her back writhing and +struggling into the salon. The whole of the pretty room was within +view, but in the embrasure of a window something lay dreadfully +still and quiet. Celia held her head averted. But it was there, +and, though it was there, all the while the women joked and +laughed, Adele Rossignol feverishly, Helene Vauquier with a real +glee most horrible to see. + +"I beg mademoiselle not to listen to what Adele is saying," +exclaimed Helene. And she began to ape in a mincing, extravagant +fashion the manner of a saleswoman in a shop. "Mademoiselle has +never looked so ravishing. This style is the last word of fashion. +It is what there is of most chic. Of course, mademoiselle +understands that the costume is not intended for playing the +piano. Nor, indeed, for the ballroom. It leaps to one's eyes that +dancing would be difficult. Nor is it intended for much +conversation. It is a costume for a mood of quiet reflection. But +I assure mademoiselle that for pretty young ladies who are the +favourites of rich old women it is the style most recommended by +the criminal classes." + +All the woman's bitter rancour against Celia, hidden for months +beneath a mask of humility, burst out and ran riot now. She went +to Adele Rossignol's help, and they flung the girl face downwards +upon the sofa. Her face struck the cushion at one end, her feet +the cushion at the other. The breath was struck out of her body. +She lay with her bosom heaving. + +Helene Vauquier watched her for a moment with a grin, paying +herself now for her respectful speeches and attendance. + +"Yes, lie quietly and reflect, little fool!" she said savagely. +"Were you wise to come here and interfere with Helene Vauquier? +Hadn't you better have stayed and danced in your rags at +Montmartre? Are the smart frocks and the pretty hats and the good +dinners worth the price? Ask yourself these questions, my dainty +little friend!" + +She drew up a chair to Celia's side, and sat down upon it +comfortably. + +"I will tell you what we are going to do with you, Mlle. Celie. +Adele Rossignol and that kind gentleman, M. Wethermill, are going +to take you away with them. You will be glad to go, won't you, +dearie? For you love M. Wethermill, don't you? Oh, they won't keep +you long enough for you to get tired of them. Do not fear! But you +will not come back, Mile. Celie. No; you have seen too much +to-night. And every one will think that Mlle. Celie helped to murder +and rob her benefactress. They are certain to suspect some one, +so why not you, pretty one?" + +Celia made no movement. She lay trying to believe that no crime +had been committed, that that lifeless body did not lie against +the wall. And then she heard in the room above a bed wheeled +roughly from its place. + +The two women heard it too, and looked at one another. + +"He should look in the safe," said Vauquier. "Go and see what he +is doing." + +And Adele Rossignol ran from the room. + +As soon as she was gone Vauquier followed to the door, listened, +closed it gently, and came back. She stooped down. + +"Mlle. Celie," she said, in a smooth, silky voice, which terrified +the girl more than her harsh tones, "there is just one little +thing wrong in your appearance, one tiny little piece of bad +taste, if mademoiselle will pardon a poor servant the expression. +I did not mention it before Adele Rossignol; she is so severe in +her criticism, is she not? But since we are alone, I will presume +to point out to mademoiselle that those diamond eardrops which I +see peeping out under the scarf are a little ostentatious in her +present predicament. They are a provocation to thieves. Will +mademoiselle permit me to remove them?" + +She caught her by the neck and lifted her up. She pushed the lace +scarf up at the side of Celia's head. Celia began to struggle +furiously, convulsively. She kicked and writhed, and a little +tearing sound was heard. One of her shoe-buckles had caught in the +thin silk covering of the cushion and slit it. Helene Vauquier let +her fall. She felt composedly in her pocket, and drew from it an +aluminium flask--the same flask which Lemerre was afterward to +snatch up in the bedroom in Geneva. Celia stared at her in dread. +She saw the flask flashing in the light. She shrank from it. She +wondered what new horror was to grip her. Helene unscrewed the top +and laughed pleasantly. + +"Mlle. Celie is under control," she said. "We shall have to teach +her that it is not polite in young ladies to kick." She pressed +Celia down with a hand upon her back, and her voice changed. "Lie +still," she commanded savagely. "Do you hear? Do you know what +this is, Mlle. Celie?" And she held the flask towards the girl's +face. "This is vitriol, my pretty one. Move, and I'll spoil these +smooth white shoulders for you. How would you like that?" + +Celia shuddered from head to foot, and, burying her face in the +cushion, lay trembling. She would have begged for death upon her +knees rather than suffer this horror. She felt Vauquier's fingers +lingering with a dreadful caressing touch upon her shoulders and +about her throat. She was within an ace of the torture, the +disfigurement, and she knew it. She could not pray for mercy. +She could only lie quite still, as she was bidden, trying to control +the shuddering of her limbs and body. + +"It would be a good lesson for Mlle. Celie," Helene continued +slowly. "I think that if Mlle. Celie will forgive the liberty I +ought to inflict it. One little tilt of the flask and the satin of +these pretty shoulders--" + +She broke off suddenly and listened. Some sound heard outside had +given Celia a respite, perhaps more than a respite. Helene set the +flask down upon the table. Her avarice had got the better of her +hatred. She roughly plucked the earrings out of the girl's ears. +She hid them quickly in the bosom of her dress with her eye upon +the door. She did not see a drop of blood gather on the lobe of +Celia's ear and fall into the cushion on which her face was +pressed. She had hardly hidden them away before the door opened +and Adele Rossignol burst into the room. + +"What is the matter?" asked Vauquier. + +"The safe's empty. We have searched the room. We have found +nothing," she cried. + +"Everything is in the safe," Helene insisted. + +"No." + +The two women ran out of the room and up the stairs. Celia, lying +on the settee, heard all the quiet of the house change to noise +and confusion. It was as though a tornado raged in the room +overhead. Furniture was tossed about and over the room, feet +stamped and ran, locks were smashed in with heavy blows. For many +minutes the storm raged. Then it ceased, and she heard the +accomplices clattering down the stairs without a thought of the +noise they made. They burst into the room. Harry Wethermill was +laughing hysterically, like a man off his head. He had been +wearing a long dark overcoat when he entered the house; now he +carried the coat over his arm. He was in a dinner-jacket, and his +black clothes were dusty and disordered. + +"It's all for nothing!" he screamed rather than cried. "Nothing +but the one necklace and a handful of rings!" + +In a frenzy he actually stooped over the dead woman and questioned +her. + +"Tell us--where did you hide them?" he cried. + +"The girl will know," said Helene. + +Wethermill rose up and looked wildly at Celia. + +"Yes, yes," he said. + +He had no scruple, no pity any longer for the girl. There was no +gain from the crime unless she spoke. He would have placed his +head in the guillotine for nothing. He ran to the writing-table, +tore off half a sheet of paper, and brought it over with a pencil +to the sofa. He gave them to Vauquier to hold, and drawing out the +sofa from the wall slipped in behind. He lifted up Celia with +Rossignol's help, and made her sit in the middle of the sofa with +her feet upon the ground. He unbound her wrists and fingers, and +Vauquier placed the writing-pad and the paper on the girl's knees. +Her arms were still pinioned above the elbows; she could not raise +her hands high enough to snatch the scarf from her lips. But with +the pad held up to her she could write. + +"Where did she keep her jewels! Quick! Take the pencil and write," +said Wethermill, holding her left wrist. + +Vauquier thrust the pencil into her right hand, and awkwardly and +slowly her gloved fingers moved across the page. + +"I do not know," she wrote; and, with an oath, Wethermill snatched +the paper up, tore it into pieces, and threw it down. + +"You have got to know," he said, his face purple with passion, and +he flung out his arm as though he would dash his fist into her +face. But as he stood with his arm poised there came a singular +change upon his face. + +"Did you hear anything?" he asked in a whisper. + +All listened, and all heard in the quiet of the night a faint +click, and after an interval they heard it again, and after +another but shorter interval yet once more. + +"That's the gate," said Wethermill in a whisper of fear, and a +pulse of hope stirred within Celia. + +He seized her wrists, crushed them together behind her, and +swiftly fastened them once more. Adele Rossignol sat down upon the +floor, took the girl's feet upon her lap, and quietly wrenched off +her shoes. + +"The light," cried Wethermill in an agonised voice, and Helena +Vauquier flew across the room and turned it off. + +All three stood holding their breath, straining their ears in the +dark room. On the hard gravel of the drive outside footsteps +became faintly audible, and grew louder and came near. Adele +whispered to Vauquier: + +"Has the girl a lover?" + +And Helene Vauquier, even at that moment, laughed quietly. + +All Celia's heart and youth rose in revolt against her extremity. +If she could only free her lips! The footsteps came round the +corner of the house, they sounded on the drive outside the very +window of this room. One cry, and she would be saved. She tossed +back her head and tried to force the handkerchief out from between +her teeth. But Wethermill's hand covered her mouth and held it +closed. The footsteps stopped, a light shone for a moment outside. +The very handle of the door was tried. Within a few yards help was +there--help and life. Just a frail latticed wooden door stood +between her and them. She tried to rise to her feet. Adele +Rossignol held her legs firmly. She was powerless. She sat with +one desperate hope that, whoever it was who was in the garden, +he would break in. Were it even another murderer, he might have +more pity than the callous brutes who held her now; he could have +no less. But the footsteps moved away. It was the withdrawal of all +hope. Celia heard Wethermill behind her draw a long breath of relief. +That seemed to Celia almost the cruellest part of the whole tragedy. +They waited in the darkness until the faint click of the gate was heard +once more. Then the light was turned up again. + +"We must go," said Wethermill. All the three of them were shaken. +They stood looking at one another, white and trembling. They spoke +in whispers. To get out of the room, to have done with the +business--that had suddenly become their chief necessity. + +Adele picked up the necklace and the rings from the satin-wood +table and put them into a pocket-bag which was slung at her waist. + +"Hippolyte shall turn these things into money," she said. "He +shall set about it to-morrow. We shall have to keep the girl now-- +until she tells us where the rest is hidden." + +"Yes, keep her," said Helene. "We will come over to Geneva in a +few days, as soon as we can. We will persuade her to tell." She +glanced darkly at the girl. Celia shivered. + +"Yes, that's it," said Wethermill. "But don't harm her. She will +tell of her own will. You will see. The delay won't hurt now. We +can't come back and search for a little while." + +He was speaking in a quick, agitated voice. And Adele agreed. The +desire to be gone had killed even their fury at the loss of their +prize. Some time they would come back, but they would not search +now--they were too unnerved. + +"Helene," said Wethermill, "get to bed. I'll come up with the +chloroform and put you to sleep." + +Helene Vauquier hurried upstairs. It was part of her plan that she +should be left alone in the villa chloroformed. Thus only could +suspicion be averted from herself. She did not shrink from the +completion of the plan now. She went, the strange woman, without a +tremor to her ordeal. Wethermill took the length of rope which had +fixed Celia to the pillar. + +"I'll follow," he said, and as he turned he stumbled over the body +of Mme. Dauvray. With a shrill cry he kicked it out of his way and +crept up the stairs. Adele Rossignol quickly set the room in +order. She removed the stool from its position in the recess, and +carried it to its place in the hall. She put Celia's shoes upon +her feet, loosening the cord from her ankles. Then she looked +about the floor and picked up here and there a scrap of cord. In +the silence the clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the quarter past +eleven. She screwed the stopper on the flask of vitriol very +carefully, and put the flask away in her pocket. She went into the +kitchen and fetched the key of the garage. She put her hat on her +head. She even picked up and drew on her gloves, afraid lest she +should leave them behind; and then Wethermill came down again. +Adele looked at him inquiringly. + +"It is all done," he said, with a nod of the head. "I will bring +the car down to the door. Then I'll drive you to Geneva and come +back with the car here." + +He cautiously opened the latticed door of the window, listened for +a moment, and ran silently down the drive. Adele closed the door +again, but she did not bolt it. She came back into the room; she +looked at Celia, as she lay back upon the settee, with a long +glance of indecision. And then, to Celia's surprise--for she had +given up all hope--the indecision in her eyes became pity. She +suddenly ran across the room and knelt down before Celia. With +quick and feverish hands she untied the cord which fastened the +train of her skirt about her knees. + +At first Celia shrank away, fearing some new cruelty. But Adele's +voice came to her ears, speaking--and speaking with remorse. + +"I can't endure it!" she whispered. "You are so young--too young +to be killed." + +The tears were rolling down Celia's cheeks. Her face was pitiful +and beseeching. + +"Don't look at me like that, for God's sake, child!" Adele went +on, and she chafed the girl's ankles for a moment. + +"Can you stand?" she asked. + +Celia nodded her head gratefully. After all, then, she was not to +die. It seemed to her hardly possible. But before she could rise a +subdued whirr of machinery penetrated into the room, and the +motor-car came slowly to the front of the villa. + +"Keep still!" said Adele hurriedly, and she placed herself in +front of Celia. + +Wethermill opened the wooden door, while Celia's heart raced in +her bosom. + +"I will go down and open the gate," he whispered. "Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +Wethermill disappeared; and this time he left the door open. Adele +helped Celia to her feet. For a moment she tottered; then she +stood firm. + +"Now run!" whispered Adele. "Run, child, for your life!" + +Celia did not stop to think whither she should run, or how she +should escape from Wethermill's search. She could not ask that her +lips and her hands might be freed. She had but a few seconds. She +had one thought--to hide herself in the darkness of the garden. +Celia fled across the room, sprang wildly over the sill, ran, +tripped over her skirt, steadied herself, and was swung off the ground +by the arms of Harry Wethermill. + +"There we are," he said, with his shrill, wavering laugh. "I +opened the gate before." And suddenly Celia hung inert in his +arms. + +The light went out in the salon. Adele Rossignol, carrying Celia's +cloak, stepped out at the side of the window. + +"She has fainted," said Wethermill. "Wipe the mould off her shoes +and off yours too--carefully. I don't want them to think this car +has been out of the garage at all." + +Adele stooped and obeyed. Wethermill opened the door of the car +and flung Celia into a seat. Adele followed and took her seat +opposite the girl. Wethermill stepped carefully again on to the +grass, and with the toe of his shoe scraped up and ploughed the +impressions which he and Adele Rossignol had made on the ground, +leaving those which Celia had made. He came back to the window. + +"She has left her footmarks clear enough," he whispered. "There +will be no doubt in the morning that she went of her own free +will." + +Then he took the chauffeur's seat, and the car glided silently +down the drive and out by the gate. As soon as it was on the road +it stopped. In an instant Adele Rossignol's head was out of the +window. + +"What is it?" she exclaimed in fear. + +Wethermill pointed to the roof. He had left the light burning in +Helene Vauquier's room. + +"We can't go back now," said Adele in a frantic whisper. "No; it +is over. I daren't go back." And Wethermill jammed down the lever. +The car sprang forward, and humming steadily over the white road +devoured the miles. But they had made their one mistake. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE GENEVA ROAD + + +The car had nearly reached Annecy before Celia woke to +consciousness. And even then she was dazed. She was only aware +that she was in the motor-car and travelling at a great speed. She +lay back, drinking in the fresh air. Then she moved, and with the +movement came to her recollection and the sense of pain. Her arms +and wrists were still bound behind her, and the cords hurt her +like hot wires. Her mouth, however, and her feet were free. She +started forward, and Adele Rossignol spoke sternly from the seat +opposite. + +"Keep still. I am holding the flask in my hand. If you scream, if +you make a movement to escape, I shall fling the vitriol in your +face," she said. + +Celia shrank back, shivering. + +"I won't! I won't!" she whispered piteously. Her spirit was broken +by the horrors of the night's adventure. She lay back and cried +quietly in the darkness of the carriage. The car dashed through +Annecy. It seemed incredible to Celia that less than six hours ago +she had been dining with Mme. Dauvray and the woman opposite, who +was now her jailer. Mme. Dauvray lay dead in the little salon, and +she herself--she dared not think what lay in front of her. She was +to be persuaded--that was the word--to tell what she did not know. +Meanwhile her name would be execrated through Aix as the murderess +of the woman who had saved her. Then suddenly the car stopped. +There were lights outside. Celia heard voices. A man was speaking +to Wethermill. She started and saw Adele Tace's arm flash upwards. +She sank back in terror; and the car rolled on into the darkness. +Adele Tace drew a breath of relief. The one point of danger had +been passed. They had crossed the Pont de la Caille, they were in +Switzerland. + +Some long while afterwards the car slackened its speed. By the +side of it Celia heard the sound of wheels and of the hooves of a +horse. A single-horsed closed landau had been caught up as it +jogged along the road. The motor-car stopped; close by the side of +it the driver of the landau reined in his horse. Wethermill jumped +down from the chauffeur's seat, opened the door of the landau, and +then put his head in at the window of the car. + +"Are you ready? Be quick!" + +Adele turned to Celia. + +"Not a word, remember!" + +Wethermill flung open the door of the car. Adele took the girl's +feet and drew them down to the step of the car. Then she pushed +her out. Wethermill caught her in his arms and carried her to the +landau. Celia dared not cry out. Her hands were helpless, her face +at the mercy of that grim flask. Just ahead of them the lights of +Geneva were visible, and from the lights a silver radiance +overspread a patch of sky. Wethermill placed her in the landau; +Adele sprang in behind her and closed the door. The transfer had +taken no more than a few seconds. The landau jogged into Geneva; +the motor turned and sped back over the fifty miles of empty road +to Aix. + +As the motor-car rolled away, courage returned for a moment to +Celia. The man--the murderer--had gone. She was alone with Adele +Rossignol in a carriage moving no faster than an ordinary trot. +Her ankles were free, the gag had been taken from her lips. If +only she could free her hands and choose a moment when Adele was +off her guard she might open the door and spring out on to the +road. She saw Adele draw down the blinds of the carriage, and very +carefully, very secretly, Celia began to work her hands behind +her. She was an adept; no movement was visible, but, on the other +hand, no success was obtained. The knots had been too cunningly +tied. And then Mme. Rossignol touched a button at her side in the +leather of the carriage. + +The touch turned on a tiny lamp in the roof of the carriage, and +she raised a warning hand to Celia. + +"Now keep very quiet." + +Right through the empty streets of Geneva the landau was quietly +driven. Adele had peeped from time to time under the blind. There +were few people in the streets. Once or twice a sergent-de-ville +was seen under the light of a lamp. Celia dared not cry out. Over +against her, persistently watching her, Adele Rossignol sat with +the open flask clenched in her hand, and from the vitriol Celia +shrank with an overwhelming terror. The carriage drove out from +the town along the western edge of the lake. + +"Now listen," said Adele. "As soon as the landau stops the door of +the house opposite to which it stops will open. I shall open the +carriage door myself and you will get out. You must stand close by +the carriage door until I have got out. I shall hold this flask +ready in my hand. As soon as I am out you will run across the +pavement into the house. You won't speak or scream." + +Adele Rossignol turned out the lamp and ten minutes later the +carriage passed down the little street and attracted Mme. Gobin's +notice. Marthe Gobin had lit no light in her room. Adele Rossignol +peered out of the carriage. She saw the houses in darkness. She +could not see the busybody's face watching the landau from a dark +window. She cut the cords which fastened the girl's hands. The +carriage stopped. She opened the door. Celia sprang out on to the +pavement. She sprang so quickly that Adele Rossignol caught and +held the train of her dress. But it was the fear of the vitriol +which had made her spring so nimbly. It was that, too, which made +her run so lightly and quickly into the house. The old woman who +acted as servant, Jeanne Tace, received her. Celia offered no +resistance. The fear of vitriol had made her supple as a glove. +Jeanne hurried her down the stairs into the little parlour at the +back of the house, where supper was laid, and pushed her into a +chair. Celia let her arms fall forward on the table. She had no +hope now. She was friendless and alone in a den of murderers, who +meant first to torture, then to kill her. She would be held up to +execration as a murderess. No one would know how she had died or +what she had suffered. She was in pain, and her throat burned. She +buried her face in her arms and sobbed. All her body shook with +her sobbing. Jeanne Rossignol took no notice. She treated Celie +just as the others had done. Celia was la petite, against whom she +had no animosity, by whom she was not to be touched to any +tenderness. La petite had unconsciously played her useful part in +their crime. But her use was ended now, and they would deal with +her accordingly. She removed the girl's hat and cloak and tossed +them aside. + +"Now stay quiet until we are ready for you," she said. And Celia, +lifting her head, said in a whisper: + +"Water!" + +The old woman poured some from a jug and held the glass to Celia's +lips. + +"Thank you," whispered Celia gratefully, and Adele came into the +room. She told the story of the night to Jeanne, and afterwards to +Hippolyte when he joined them. + +"And nothing gained!" cried the older woman furiously. "And we +have hardly a five-franc piece in the house." + +"Yes, something," said Adele. "A necklace--a good one--some good +rings, and bracelets. And we shall find out where the rest is hid- +-from her." And she nodded at Celia. + +The three people ate their supper, and, while they ate it, +discussed Celia's fate. She was lying with her head bowed upon her +arms at the same table, within a foot of them. But they made no +more of her presence than if she had been an old shoe. Only once +did one of them speak to her. + +"Stop your whimpering," said Hippolyte roughly. "We can hardly +hear ourselves talk." + +He was for finishing with the business altogether to-night. + +"It's a mistake," he said. "There's been a bungle, and the sooner +we are rid of it the better. There's a boat at the bottom of the +garden." + +Celia listened and shuddered. He would have no more compunction +over drowning her than he would have had over drowning a blind +kitten. + +"It's cursed luck," he said. "But we have got the necklace--that's +something. That's our share, do you see? The young spark can look +for the rest." + +But Helene Vauquier's wish prevailed. She was the leader. They +would keep the girl until she came to Geneva. + +They took her upstairs into the big bedroom overlooking the lake. +Adele opened the door of the closet, where a truckle-bed stood, +and thrust the girl in. + +"This is my room," she said warningly, pointing to the bedroom. +"Take care I hear no noise. You might shout yourself hoarse, my +pretty one; no one else would hear you. But I should, and +afterwards--we should no longer be able to call you 'my pretty +one,' eh?" + +And with a horrible playfulness she pinched the girl's cheek. + +Then with old Jeanne's help she stripped Celia and told her to get +into bed. + +"I'll give her something to keep her quiet," said Adele, and she +fetched her morphia-needle and injected a dose into Celia's arm. + +Then they took her clothes away and left her in the darkness. She +heard the key turn in the lock, and a moment after the sound of +the bedstead being drawn across the doorway. But she heard no +more, for almost immediately she fell asleep. + +She was awakened some time the next day by the door opening. Old +Jeanne Tace brought her in a jug of water and a roll of bread, and +locked her up again. And a long time afterwards she brought her +another supply. Yet another day had gone, but in that dark +cupboard Celia had no means of judging time. In the afternoon the +newspaper came out with the announcement that Mme. Dauvray's +jewellery had been discovered under the boards. Hippolyte brought +in the newspaper, and, cursing their stupidity, they sat down to +decide upon Celia's fate. That, however, was soon arranged. They +would dress her in everything which she wore when she came, so +that no trace of her might be discovered. They would give her +another dose of morphia, sew her up in a sack as soon as she was +unconscious, row her far out on to the lake, and sink her with a +weight attached. They dragged her out from the cupboard, always +with the threat of that bright aluminium flask before her eyes. +She fell upon her knees, imploring their pity with the tears +running down her cheeks; but they sewed the strip of sacking over +her face so that she should see nothing of their preparations. +They flung her on the sofa, secured her as Hanaud had found her, +and, leaving her in the old woman's charge, sent down Adele for +her needle and Hippolyte to get ready the boat. As Hippolyte +opened the door he saw the launch of the Chef de la Surete glide +along the bank. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +HANAUD EXPLAINS + + +This is the story as Mr. Ricardo wrote it out from the statement +of Celia herself and the confession of Adele Rossignol. +Obscurities which had puzzled him were made clear. But he was +still unaware how Hanaud had worked out the solution. + +"You promised me that you would explain," he said, when they were +both together after the trial was over at Aix. The two men had +just finished luncheon at the Cercle and were sitting over their +coffee. Hanaud lighted a cigar. + +"There were difficulties, of course," he said; "the crime was so +carefully planned. The little details, such as the footprints, the +absence of any mud from the girl's shoes in the carriage of the +motor-car, the dinner at Annecy, the purchase of the cord, the +want of any sign of a struggle in the little salon, were all +carefully thought out. Had not one little accident happened, and +one little mistake been made in consequence, I doubt if we should +have laid our hands upon one of the gang. We might have suspected +Wethermill; we should hardly have secured him, and we should very +likely never have known of the Tace family. That mistake was, as +you no doubt are fully aware--" + +"The failure of Wethermill to discover Mme. Dauvray's jewels," +said Ricardo at once. + +"No, my friend," answered Hanaud. "That made them keep Mlle. Celie +alive. It enabled us to save her when we had discovered the +whereabouts of the gang. It did not help us very much to lay our +hands upon them. No; the little accident which happened was the +entrance of our friend Perrichet into the garden while the +murderers were still in the room. Imagine that scene, M. Ricardo. +The rage of the murderers at their inability to discover the +plunder for which they had risked their necks, the old woman +crumpled up on the floor against the wall, the girl writing +laboriously with fettered arms 'I do not know' under threats of +torture, and then in the stillness of the night the clear, tiny +click of the gate and the measured, relentless footsteps. No +wonder they were terrified in that dark room. What would be their +one thought? Why, to get away--to come back perhaps later, when +Mlle. Celie should have told them what, by the way, she did not +know, but in any case to get away now. So they made their little +mistake, and in their hurry they left the light burning in the +room of Helene Vauquier, and the murder was discovered seven hours +too soon for them." + +"Seven hours!" said Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes. The household did not rise early. It was not until seven +that the charwoman came. It was she who was meant to discover the +crime. By that time the motor-car would have been back three hours +ago in its garage. Servettaz, the chauffeur, would have returned +from Chambery some time in the morning, he would have cleaned the +car, he would have noticed that there was very little petrol in +the tank, as there had been when he had left it on the day before. +He would not have noticed that some of his many tins which had +been full yesterday were empty to-day. We should not have +discovered that about four in the morning the car was close to the +Villa Rose and that it had travelled, between midnight and five in +the morning, a hundred and fifty kilometres." + +"But you had already guessed 'Geneva,'" said Ricardo. "At +luncheon, before the news came that the car was found, you had +guessed it." + +"It was a shot," said Hanaud. "The absence of the car helped me to +make it. It is a large city and not very far away, a likely place +for people with the police at their heels to run to earth in. But +if the car had been discovered in the garage I should not have +made that shot. Even then I had no particular conviction about +Geneva. I really wished to see how Wethermill would take it. He +was wonderful." + +"He sprang up." + +"He betrayed nothing but surprise. You showed no less surprise +than he did, my good friend. What I was looking for was one glance +of fear. I did not get it." + +"Yet you suspected him--even then you spoke of brains and +audacity. You told him enough to hinder him from communicating +with the red-haired woman in Geneva. You isolated him. Yes, you +suspected him." + +"Let us take the case from the beginning. When you first came to +me, as I told you, the Commissaire had already been with me. There +was an interesting piece of evidence already in his possession. +Adolphe Ruel--who saw Wethermill and Vauquier together close by +the Casino and overheard that cry of Wethermill's, 'It is true: I +must have money!'--had already been with his story to the +Commissaire. I knew it when Harry Wethermill came into the room to +ask me to take up the case. That was a bold stroke, my friend. The +chances were a hundred to one that I should not interrupt my +holiday to take up a case because of your little dinner-party in +London. Indeed, I should not have interrupted it had I not known +Adolphe Ruel's story. As it was I could not resist. Wethermill's +very audacity charmed me. Oh yes, I felt that I must pit myself +against him. So few criminals have spirit, M. Ricardo. It is +deplorable how few. But Wethermill! See in what a fine position he +would have been if only I had refused. He himself had been the +first to call upon the first detective in France. And his +argument! He loved Mlle. Celie. Therefore she must be innocent! +How he stuck to it! People would have said, 'Love is blind,' and +all the more they would have suspected Mile. Celie. Yes, but they +love the blind lover. Therefore all the more would it have been +impossible for them to believe Harry Wethermill had any share in +that grim crime." + +Mr. Ricardo drew his chair closer in to the table. + +"I will confess to you," he said, "that I thought Mlle. Celie was +an accomplice." + +"It is not surprising," said Hanaud. "Some one within the house +was an accomplice--we start with that fact. The house had not been +broken into. There was Mlle. Celie's record as Helene Vauquier +gave it to us, and a record obviously true. There was the fact +that she had got rid of Servettaz. There was the maid upstairs +very ill from the chloroform. What more likely than that Mlle. +Celie had arranged a seance, and then when the lights were out had +admitted the murderer through that convenient glass door?" + +"There were, besides, the definite imprints of her shoes," said +Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes, but that is precisely where I began to feel sure that she +was innocent," replied Hanaud dryly. "All the other footmarks had +been so carefully scored and ploughed up that nothing could be +made of them. Yet those little ones remained so definite, so +easily identified, and I began to wonder why these, too, had not +been cut up and stamped over. The murderers had taken, you see, an +excess of precaution to throw the presumption of guilt upon Mlle. +Celie rather than upon Vauquier. However, there the footsteps +were. Mlle. Celie had sprung from the room as I described to +Wethermill. But I was puzzled. Then in the room I found the torn- +up sheet of notepaper with the words, 'Je ne sais pas,' in +mademoiselle's handwriting. The words might have been spirit- +writing, they might have meant anything. I put them away in my +mind. But in the room the settee puzzled me. And again I was +troubled--greatly troubled." + +"Yes, I saw that." + +"And not you alone," said Hanaud, with a smile. "Do you remember +that loud cry Wethermill gave when we returned to the room and +once more I stood before the settee? Oh, he turned it off very +well. I had said that our criminals in France were not very gentle +with their victims, and he pretended that it was in fear of what +Mlle. Celie might be suffering which had torn that cry from his +heart. But it was not so. He was afraid--deadly afraid--not for +Mlle. Celie, but for himself. He was afraid that I had understood +what these cushions had to tell me." + +"What did they tell you?" asked Ricardo. + +"You know now," said Hanaud. "They were two cushions, both +indented, and indented in different ways. The one at the head was +irregularly indented--something shaped had pressed upon it. It +might have been a face--it might not; and there was a little brown +stain which was fresh and which was blood. The second cushion had +two separate impressions, and between them the cushion was forced +up in a thin ridge; and these impressions were more definite. I +measured the distance between the two cushions, and I found this: +that supposing--and it was a large supposition--the cushions had +not been moved since those impressions were made, a girl of Mlle. +Celie's height lying stretched out upon the sofa would have her +face pressing down upon one cushion and her feet and insteps upon +the other. Now, the impressions upon the second cushion and the +thin ridge between them were just the impressions which might have +been made by a pair of shoes held close together. But that would +not be a natural attitude for any one, and the mark upon the head +cushion was very deep. Supposing that my conjectures were true, +then a woman would only lie like that because she was helpless, +because she had been flung there, because she could not lift +herself--because, in a word, her hands were tied behind her back +and her feet fastened together. Well, then, follow this train of +reasoning, my friend! Suppose my conjectures--and we had nothing +but conjectures to build upon-were true, the woman flung upon the +sofa could not be Helene Vauquier, for she would have said so; she +could have had no reason for concealment. But it must be Mlle. +Celie. There was the slit in the one cushion and the stain on the +other which, of course, I had not accounted for. There was still, +too, the puzzle of the footsteps outside the glass doors. If Mlle. +Celie had been bound upon the sofa, how came she to run with her +limbs free from the house? There was a question--a question not +easy to answer." + +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. + +"Yes; but there was also another question. Suppose that Mlle. +Celie was, after all, the victim, not the accomplice; suppose she +had been flung tied upon the sofa; suppose that somehow the +imprint of her shoes upon the ground had been made, and that she +had afterwards been carried away, so that the maid might be +cleared of all complicity--in that case it became intelligible why +the other footprints were scored out and hers left. The +presumption of guilt would fall upon her. There would be proof +that she ran hurriedly from the room and sprang into a motor-car +of her own free will. But, again, if that theory were true, then +Helene Vauquier was the accomplice and not Mlle. Celie." + +"I follow that." + +"Then I found an interesting piece of evidence with regard to the +strange woman who came: I picked up a long red hair--a very +important piece of evidence about which I thought it best to say +nothing at all. It was not Mlle. Celie's hair, which is fair; nor +Vauquier's, which is black; nor Mme. Dauvray's, which is dyed +brown; nor the charwoman's, which is grey. It was, therefore, the +visitor's. Well, we went upstairs to Mile. Celie's room." + +"Yes," said Mr. Ricardo eagerly. "We are coming to the pot of +cream." + +"In that room we learnt that Helene Vauquier, at her own request, +had already paid it a visit. It is true the Commissaire said that +he had kept his eye on her the whole time. But none the less from +the window he saw me coming down the road, and that he could not +have done, as I made sure, unless he had turned his back upon +Vauquier and leaned out of the window. Now at the time I had an +open mind about Vauquier. On the whole I was inclined to think she +had no share in the affair. But either she or Mlle. Celie had, and +perhaps both. But one of them--yes. That was sure. Therefore I +asked what drawers she touched after the Commissaire had leaned +out of the window. For if she had any motive in wishing to visit +the room she would have satisfied it when the Commissaire's back +was turned. He pointed to a drawer, and I took out a dress and +shook it, thinking that she may have wished to hide something. But +nothing fell out. On the other hand, however, I saw some quite +fresh grease-marks, made by fingers, and the marks were wet. I +began to ask myself how it was that Helene Vauquier, who had just +been helped to dress by the nurse, had grease upon her fingers. +Then I looked at a drawer which she had examined first of all. +There were no grease-marks on the clothes she had turned over +before the Commissaire leaned out of the window. Therefore it +followed that during the few seconds when he was watching me she +had touched grease. I looked about the room, and there on the +dressing-table close by the chest of drawers was a pot of cold +cream. That was the grease Helene Vauquier had touched. And why-- +if not to hide some small thing in it which, firstly, she dared +not keep in her own room; which, secondly, she wished to hide in +the room of Mlle. Celie; and which, thirdly, she had not had an +opportunity to hide before? Now bear those three conditions in +mind, and tell me what the small thing was." + +Mr. Ricardo nodded his head. + +"I know now," he said. "You told me. The earrings of Mlle. Celie. +But I should not have guessed it at the time." + +"Nor could I--at the time," said Hanaud. "I kept my open mind +about Helene Vauquier; but I locked the door and took the key. +Then we went and heard Vauquier's story. The story was clever, +because so much of it was obviously, indisputably true. The +account of the seances, of Mme. Dauvray's superstitions, her +desire for an interview with Mme. de Montespan--such details are +not invented. It was interesting, too, to know that there had been +a seance planned for that night! The method of the murder began to +be clear. So far she spoke the truth. But then she lied. Yes, she +lied, and it was a bad lie, my friend. She told us that the +strange woman Adele had black hair. Now I carried in my pocket- +book proof that that woman's hair was red. Why did she lie, except +to make impossible the identification of that strange visitor? +That was the first false step taken by Helene Vauquier. + +"Now let us take the second. I thought nothing of her rancour +against Mlle. Celie. To me it was all very natural. She--the hard +peasant woman no longer young, who had been for years the +confidential servant of Mme. Dauvray, and no doubt had taken her +levy from the impostors who preyed upon her credulous mistress-- +certainly she would hate this young and pretty outcast whom she +has to wait upon, whose hair she has to dress. Vauquier--she would +hate her. But if by any chance she were in the plot--and the lie +seemed to show she was--then the seances showed me new +possibilities. For Helene used to help Mlle. Celie. Suppose that +the seance had taken place, that this sceptical visitor with the +red hair professed herself dissatisfied with Vauquier's method of +testing the medium, had suggested another way, Mlle. Celie could +not object, and there she would be neatly and securely packed up +beyond the power of offering any resistance, before she could have +a suspicion that things were wrong. It would be an easy little +comedy to play. And if that were true--why, there were my sofa +cushions partly explained." + +"Yes, I see!" cried Ricardo, with enthusiasm. "You are wonderful." + +Hanaud was not displeased with his companion's enthusiasm. + +"But wait a moment. We have only conjectures so far, and one fact +that Helene Vauquier lied about the colour of the strange woman's +hair. Now we get another fact. Mlle. Celie was wearing buckles on +her shoes. And there is my slit in the sofa cushions. For when she +is flung on to the sofa, what will she do? She will kick, she will +struggle. Of course it is conjecture. I do not as yet hold +pigheadedly to it. I am not yet sure that Mlle. Celie is innocent. +I am willing at any moment to admit that the facts contradict my +theory. But, on the contrary, each fact that I discover helps it +to take shape. + +"Now I come to Helene Vauquier's second mistake. On the evening +when you saw Mlle. Celie in the garden behind the baccarat-rooms +you noticed that she wore no jewellery except a pair of diamond +eardrops. In the photograph of her which Wethermill showed me, +again she was wearing them. Is it not, therefore, probable that +she usually wore them? When I examined her room I found the case +for those earrings--the case was empty. It was natural, then, to +infer that she was wearing them when she came down to the seance." + +"Yes." + +"Well, I read a description--a carefully written description--of +the missing girl, made by Helene Vauquier after an examination of +the girl's wardrobe. There is no mention of the earrings. So I +asked her--'Was she not wearing them?' Helene Vauquier was taken +by surprise. How should I know anything of Mlle. Celie's earrings? +She hesitated. She did not quite know what answer to make. Now, +why? Since she herself dressed Mile. Celie, and remembers so very +well all she wore, why does she hesitate? Well, there is a reason. +She does not know how much I know about those diamond eardrops. +She is not sure whether we have not dipped into that pot of cold +cream and found them. Yet without knowing she cannot answer. So +now we come back to our pot of cold cream." + +"Yes!" cried Mr. Ricardo. "They were there." + +"Wait a bit," said Hanaud. "Let us see how it works out. Remember +the conditions. Vauquier has some small thing which she must hide, +and which she wishes to hide in Mlle. Celie's room. For she +admitted that it was her suggestion that she should look through +mademoiselle's wardrobe. For what reason does she choose the +girl's room, except that if the thing were discovered that would +be the natural place for it? It is, then, something belonging to +Mlle. Celie. There was a second condition we laid down. It was +something Vauquier had not been able to hide before. It came, +then, into her possession last night. Why could she not bide it +last night? Because she was not alone. There were the man and the +woman, her accomplices. It was something, then, which she was +concerned in hiding from them. It is not rash to guess, then, that +it was some piece of the plunder of which the other two would have +claimed their share--and a piece of plunder belonging to Mlle. +Celie. Well, she has nothing but the diamond eardrops. Suppose +Vauquier is left alone to guard Mlle. Celie while the other two +ransack Mme. Dauvray's room. She sees her chance. The girl cannot +stir hand or foot to save herself. Vauquier tears the eardrops in +a hurry from her ears--and there I have my drop of blood just +where I should expect it to be. But now follow this! Vauquier +hides the earrings in her pocket. She goes to bed in order to be +chloroformed. She knows that it is very possible that her room +will be searched before she regains consciousness, or before she +is well enough to move. There is only one place to hide them in, +only one place where they will be safe. In bed with her. But in +the morning she must get rid of them, and a nurse is with her. +Hence the excuse to go to Mlle. Celie's room. If the eardrops are +found in the pot of cold cream, it would only be thought that +Mlle. Celie had herself hidden them there for safety. Again it is +conjecture, and I wish to make sure. So I tell Vauquier she can go +away, and I leave her unwatched. I have her driven to the depot +instead of to her friends, and searched. Upon her is found the pot +of cream, and in the cream Mlle. Celie's eardrops. She has slipped +into Mlle. Celie's room, as, if my theory was correct, she would +be sure to do, and put the pot of cream into her pocket. So I am +now fairly sure that she is concerned in the murder. + +"We then went to Mme. Dauvray's room and discovered her brilliants +and her ornaments. At once the meaning of that agitated piece of +hand-writing of Mlle. Celie's becomes clear. She is asked where +the jewels are hidden. She cannot answer, for her mouth, of +course, is stopped. She has to write. Thus my conjectures get more +and more support. And, mind this, one of the two women is guilty-- +Celie or Vauquier. My discoveries all fit in with the theory of +Celie's innocence. But there remain the footprints, for which I +found no explanation. + +"You will remember I made you all promise silence as to the +finding of Mme. Dauvray's jewellery. For I thought, if they have +taken the girl away so that suspicion may fall on her and not on +Vauquier, they mean to dispose of her. But they may keep her so +long as they have a chance of finding out from her Mme. Dauvray's +hiding-place. It was a small chance but our only one. The moment +the discovery of the jewellery was published the girl's fate was +sealed, were my theory true. + +"Then came our advertisement and Mme. Gobin's written testimony. +There was one small point of interest which I will take first: her +statement that Adele was the Christian name of the woman with the +red hair, that the old woman who was the servant in that house in +the suburb of Geneva called her Adele, just simply Adele. That +interested me, for Helene Vauquier had called her Adele too when +she was describing to us the unknown visitor. 'Adele' was what +Mme. Dauvray called her." + +"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier made a slip there. She +should have given her a false name." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"It is the one slip she made in the whole of the business. Nor did +she recover herself very cleverly. For when the Commissaire +pounced upon the name, she at once modified her words. She only +thought now that the name was Adele, or something like it. But +when I went on to suggest that the name in any case would be a +false one, at once she went back upon her modifications. And now +she was sure that Adele was the name used. I remembered her +hesitation when I read Marthe Gobin's letter. They helped to +confirm me in my theory that she was in the plot; and they made me +very sure that it was an Adele for whom we had to look. So far +well. But other statements in the letter puzzled me. For instance, +'She ran lightly and quickly across the pavement into the house, +as though she were afraid to be seen.' Those were the words, and +the woman was obviously honest. What became of my theory then? The +girl was free to run, free to stoop and pick up the train of her +gown in her hand, free to shout for help in the open street if she +wanted help. No; that I could not explain until that afternoon, +when I saw Mlle. Celie's terror-stricken eyes fixed upon that +flask, as Lemerre poured a little out and burnt a hole in the +sack. Then I understood well enough. The fear of vitriol!" Hanaud +gave an uneasy shudder. "And it is enough to make any one afraid! +That I can tell you. No wonder she lay still as a mouse upon the +sofa in the bedroom. No wonder she ran quickly into the house. +Well, there you have the explanation. I had only my theory to work +upon even after Mme. Gobin's evidence. But as it happened it was +the right one. Meanwhile, of course, I made my inquiries into +Wethermill's circumstances. My good friends in England helped me. +They were precarious. He owed money in Aix, money at his hotel. We +knew from the motor-car that the man we were searching for had +returned to Aix. Things began to look black for Wethermill. Then +you gave me a little piece of information." + +"I!" exclaimed Ricardo, with a start. + +"Yes. You told me that you walked up to the hotel with Harry +Wethermill on the night of the murder and separated just before +ten. A glance into his rooms which I had--you will remember that +when we had discovered the motor-car I suggested that we should go +to Harry Wethermill's rooms and talk it over--that glance enabled +me to see that he could very easily have got out of his room on to +the verandah below and escaped from the hotel by the garden quite +unseen. For you will remember that whereas your rooms look out to +the front and on to the slope of Mont Revard, Wethermill's look +out over the garden and the town of Aix. In a quarter of an hour +or twenty minutes he could have reached the Villa Rose. He could +have been in the salon before half-past ten, and that is just the +hour which suited me perfectly. And, as he got out unnoticed, so +he could return. So he did return! My friend, there are some +interesting marks upon the window-sill of Wethermill's room and +upon the pillar just beneath it. Take a look, M. Ricardo, when you +return to your hotel. But that was not all. We talked of Geneva in +Mr. Wethermill's room, and of the distance between Geneva and Aix. +Do you remember that?" + +"Yes," replied Ricardo. + +"Do you remember too that I asked him for a road-book?" + +"Yes; to make sure of the distance. I do." + +"Ah, but it was not to make sure of the distance that I asked for +the road-book, my friend. I asked in order to find out whether +Harry Wethermill had a road-book at all which gave a plan of the +roads between here and Geneva. And he had. He handed it to me at +once and quite naturally. I hope that I took it calmly, but I was +not at all calm inside. For it was a new road-book, which, by the +way, he bought a week before, and I was asking myself all the +while--now what was I asking myself, M. Ricardo?" + +"No," said Ricardo, with a smile. "I am growing wary. I will not +tell you what you were asking yourself, M. Hanaud. For even were I +right you would make out that I was wrong, and leap upon me with +injuries and gibes. No, you shall drink your coffee and tell me of +your own accord." + +"Well," said Hanaud, laughing, "I will tell you. I was asking +myself: 'Why does a man who owns no motor-car, who hires no motor- +car, go out into Aix and buy an automobilist's road-map? With what +object?' And I found it an interesting question. M. Harry +Wethermill was not the man to go upon a walking tour, eh? Oh, I +was obtaining evidence. But then came an overwhelming thing--the +murder of Marthe Gobin. We know now how he did it. He walked +beside the cab, put his head in at the window, asked, 'Have you +come in answer to the advertisement?' and stabbed her straight to +the heart through her dress. The dress and the weapon which he +used would save him from being stained with her blood. He was in +your room that morning, when we were at the station. As I told +you, he left his glove behind. He was searching for a telegram in +answer to your advertisement. Or he came to sound you. He had +already received his telegram from Hippolyte. He was like a fox in +a cage, snapping at every one, twisting vainly this way and that +way, risking everything and every one to save his precious neck. +Marthe Gobin was in the way. She is killed. Mlle. Celie is a +danger. So Mile. Celie must be suppressed. And off goes a telegram +to the Geneva paper, handed in by a waiter from the cafe at the +station of Chambery before five o'clock. Wethermill went to +Chambery that afternoon when we went to Geneva. Once we could get +him on the run, once we could so harry and bustle him that he must +take risks--why, we had him. And that afternoon he had to take +them." + +"So that even before Marthe Gobin was killed you were sure that +Wethermill was the murderer?" + +Hanaud's face clouded over. + +"You put your finger on a sore place, M. Ricardo. I was sure, but +I still wanted evidence to convict. I left him free, hoping for +that evidence. I left him free, hoping that he would commit +himself. He did, but--well, let us talk of some one else. What of +Mlle. Celie?" + +Ricardo drew a letter from his pocket. + +"I have a sister in London, a widow," he said. "She is kind. I, +too, have been thinking of what will become of Mlle. Celie. I +wrote to my sister, and here is her reply. Mlle. Celie will be +very welcome." + +Hanaud stretched out his hand and shook Ricardo's warmly. + +"She will not, I think, be for very long a burden. She is young. +She will recover from this shock. She is very pretty, very gentle. +If--if no one comes forward whom she loves and who loves her--I-- +yes, I myself, who was her papa for one night, will be her husband +forever." + +He laughed inordinately at his own joke; it was a habit of M. +Hanaud's. Then he said gravely: + +"But I am glad, M. Ricardo, for Mlle. Celie's sake that I came to +your amusing dinner-party in London." + +Mr. Ricardo was silent for a moment. Then he asked: + +"And what will happen to the condemned?" + +"To the women? Imprisonment for life." + +"And to the man?" + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"Perhaps the guillotine. Perhaps New Caledonia. How can I say? I +am not the President of the Republic." + +END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of At the Villa Rose, by A.E.W. Mason + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT AT THE VILLA ROSE *** + +This file should be named vllrs10.txt or vllrs10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, vllrs11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, vllrs10a.txt + +Produced by Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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