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diff --git a/old/67514-0.txt b/old/67514-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..541c178 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/67514-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12355 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The House of the Arrow, by A. E. W. +Mason + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The House of the Arrow + +Author: A. E. W. Mason + +Release Date: February 26, 2022 [eBook #67514] +[Last Updated: October 19, 2022] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Al Haines + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW *** + + + + + + + + _The + House of the Arrow_ + + _By_ + + A. E. W. MASON + + + _New York + George H. Doran Company_ + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1924, + BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY + + + THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + Books by A. E. W. MASON + + THE WINDING STAIR + THE FOUR FEATHERS + THE SUMMONS + THE BROKEN ROAD + MIRANDA OF THE BALCONY + CLEMENTINA + THE TURNSTILE + THE TRUANTS + AT THE VILLA ROSE + RUNNING WATER + THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER + THE PHILANDERERS + LAWRENCE CLAVERING + THE WATCHERS + A ROMANCE OF WASTDALE + ENSIGN KNIGHTLEY AND OTHER TALES + FROM THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE WORLD + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + + ONE: _Letters of Mark_ + TWO: _A Cry for Help_ + THREE: _Servants of Chance_ + FOUR: _Betty Harlowe_ + FIVE: _Betty Harlowe Answers_ + SIX: _Jim Changes His Lodging_ + SEVEN: _Exit Waberski_ + EIGHT: _The Book_ + NINE: _The Secret_ + TEN: _The Clock upon the Cabinet_ + ELEVEN: _A New Suspect_ + TWELVE: _The Breaking of the Seals_ + THIRTEEN: _Simon Harlowe's Treasure-room_ + FOURTEEN: _An Experiment and a Discovery_ + FIFTEEN: _The Finding of the Arrow_ + SIXTEEN: _Hanaud Laughs_ + SEVENTEEN: _At Jean Cladel's_ + EIGHTEEN: _The White Tablet_ + NINETEEN: _A Plan Frustrated_ + TWENTY: _A Map and the Necklace_ + TWENTY-ONE: _The Secret House_ + TWENTY-TWO: _The Corona Machine_ + TWENTY-THREE: _The Truth About the Clock on the Marquetry Cabinet_ + TWENTY-FOUR: _Ann Upcott's Story_ + TWENTY-FIVE: _What Happened on the Night of the 27th_ + TWENTY-SIX: _The Façade of Notre Dame_ + + + + +THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW + + + + +CHAPTER ONE: _Letters of Mark_ + +Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt, the solicitors on the east side of +Russell Square, counted amongst their clients a great many who had +undertakings established in France; and the firm was very proud of +this branch of its business. + +"It gives us a place in history," Mr. Jeremy Haslitt used to say. +"For it dates from the year 1806, when Mr. James Frobisher, then our +very energetic senior partner, organised the escape of hundreds of +British subjects who were detained in France by the edict of the +first Napoleon. The firm received the thanks of His Majesty's +Government and has been fortunate enough to retain the connection +thus made. I look after that side of our affairs myself." + +Mr. Haslitt's daily batch of letters, therefore, contained as a rule +a fair number bearing the dark-blue stamp of France upon their +envelopes. On this morning of early April, however, there was only +one. It was addressed in a spidery, uncontrolled hand with which Mr. +Haslitt was unfamiliar. But it bore the postmark of Dijon, and Mr. +Haslitt tore it open rather quickly. He had a client in Dijon, a +widow, Mrs. Harlowe, of whose health he had had bad reports. The +letter was certainly written from her house, La Maison Crenelle, but +not by her. He turned to the signature. + +"Waberski?" he said, with a frown. "Boris Waberski?" And then, as +he identified his correspondent, "Oh, yes, yes." + +He sat down in his chair and read. The first part of the letter was +merely flowers and compliments, but half-way down the second page its +object was made clear as glass. It was five hundred pounds. Old Mr. +Haslitt smiled and read on, keeping up, whilst he read, a one-sided +conversation with the writer. + +"I have a great necessity of that money," wrote Boris, "and----" + +"I am quite sure of that," said Mr. Haslitt. + +"My beloved sister, Jeanne-Marie----" the letter continued. + +"Sister-in-law," Mr. Haslitt corrected. + +"--cannot live for long, in spite of all the care and attention I +give to her," Boris Waberski went on. "She has left me, as no doubt +you know, a large share of her fortune. Already, then, it is +mine--yes? One may say so and be favourably understood. We must +look at the facts with the eyes. Expedite me, then, by the +recommended post a little of what is mine and agree my distinguished +salutations." + +Haslitt's smile became a broad grin. He had in one of his tin boxes +a copy of the will of Jeanne-Marie Harlowe drawn up in due form by +her French notary at Dijon, by which every farthing she possessed was +bequeathed without condition to her husband's niece and adopted +daughter, Betty Harlowe. Jeremy Haslitt almost destroyed that +letter. He folded it; his fingers twitched at it; there was already +actually a tear at the edges of the sheets when he changed his mind. + +"No," he said to himself. "No! With the Boris Waberskis one never +knows," and he locked the letter away on a ledge of his private safe. + +He was very glad that he had when three weeks later he read, in the +obituary column of _The Times_, the announcement of Mrs. Harlowe's +death, and received a big card with a very deep black border in the +French style from Betty Harlowe inviting him to the funeral at Dijon. +The invitation was merely formal. He could hardly have reached Dijon +in time for the ceremony had he started off that instant. He +contented himself with writing a few lines of sincere condolence to +the girl, and a letter to the French notary in which he placed the +services of the firm at Betty's disposal. Then he waited. + +"I shall hear again from little Boris," he said, and he heard within +the week. The handwriting was more spidery and uncontrolled than +ever; hysteria and indignation had played havoc with Waberski's +English; also he had doubled his demand. + +"It is outside belief," he wrote. "Nothing has she left to her so +attentive brother. There is something here I do not much like. It +must be one thousand pounds now, by the recommended post. 'You have +always had the world against you, my poor Boris,' she say with the +tears all big in her dear eyes. 'But I make all right for you in my +will.' And now nothing! I speak, of course, to my niece--ah, that +hard one! She snap her the fingers at me! Is that a behaviour? One +thousand pounds, mister! Otherwise there will be awkwardnesses! +Yes! People do not snap them the fingers at Boris Waberski without +the payment. So one thousand pounds by the recommended post or +awkwardnesses"; and this time Boris Waberski did not invite Mr. +Haslitt to agree any salutations, distinguished or otherwise, but +simply signed his name with a straggling pen which shot all over the +sheet. + +Mr. Haslitt did not smile over this letter. He rubbed the palms of +his hands softly together. + +"Then we shall have to make some awkwardnesses too," he said hastily, +and he locked this second letter away with the first. But Mr. +Haslitt found it a little difficult to settle to his work. There was +that girl out there in the big house at Dijon and no one of her race +near her! He got up from his chair abruptly and crossed the corridor +to the offices of his junior partner. + +"Jim, you were at Monte Carlo this winter," he said. + +"For a week," answered Jim Frobisher. + +"I think I asked you to call on a client of ours who has a villa +there--Mrs. Harlowe." + +Jim Frobisher nodded. "I did. But Mrs. Harlowe was ill. There was +a niece, but she was out." + +"You saw no one, then?" Jeremy Haslitt asked. + +"No, that's wrong," Jim corrected. "I saw a strange creature who +came to the door to make Mrs. Harlowe's excuses--a Russian." + +"Boris Waberski," said Mr. Haslitt. + +"That's the name." + +Mr. Haslitt sat down in a chair. + +"Tell me about him, Jim." + +Jim Frobisher stared at nothing for a few moments. He was a young +man of twenty-six who had only during this last year succeeded to his +partnership. Though quick enough when action was imperative, he was +naturally deliberate in his estimates of other people's characters; +and a certain awe he had of old Jeremy Haslitt doubled that natural +deliberation in any matters of the firm's business. He answered at +length. + +"He is a tall, shambling fellow with a shock of grey hair standing up +like wires above a narrow forehead and a pair of wild eyes. He made +me think of a marionette whose limbs have not been properly strung. +I should imagine that he was rather extravagant and emotional. He +kept twitching at his moustache with very long, tobacco-stained +fingers. The sort of man who might go off at the deep end at any +moment." + +Mr. Haslitt smiled. + +"That's just what I thought." + +"Is he giving you any trouble?" asked Jim. + +"Not yet," said Mr. Haslitt. "But Mrs. Harlowe is dead, and I think +it very likely that he will. Did he play at the tables?" + +"Yes, rather high," said Jim. "I suppose that he lived on Mrs. +Harlowe." + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Haslitt, and he sat for a little while in +silence. Then: "It's a pity you didn't see Betty Harlowe. I stopped +at Dijon once on my way to the South of France five years ago when +Simon Harlowe, the husband, was alive. Betty was then a long-legged +slip of a girl in black silk stockings with a pale, clear face and +dark hair and big eyes--rather beautiful." Mr. Haslitt moved in his +chair uncomfortably. That old house with its great garden of +chestnuts and sycamores and that girl alone in it with an aggrieved +and half-crazed man thinking out awkwardnesses for her--Mr. Haslitt +did not like the picture! + +"Jim," he said suddenly, "could you arrange your work so that you +could get away at short notice, if it becomes advisable?" + +Jim looked up in surprise. Excursions and alarms, as the old stage +directions have it, were not recognised as a rule by the firm of +Frobisher & Haslitt. If its furniture was dingy, its methods were +stately; clients might be urgent, but haste and hurry were words for +which the firm had no use No doubt, somewhere round the corner, there +would be an attorney who understood them. Yet here was Mr. Haslitt +himself, with his white hair and his curious round face, +half-babyish, half-supremely intelligent, actually advocating that +his junior partner should be prepared to skip to the Continent at a +word. + +"No doubt I could," said Jim, and Mr. Haslitt looked him over with +approbation. + +Jim Frobisher had an unusual quality of which his acquaintances, even +his friends, knew only the outward signs. He was a solitary person. +Very few people up till now had mattered to him at all, and even +those he could do without. It was his passion to feel that his life +and the means of his life did not depend upon the purchased skill of +other people; and he had spent the spare months of his life in the +fulfilment of his passion. A half-decked sailing-boat which one man +could handle, an ice-axe, a rifle, an inexhaustible volume or two +like _The Ring and the Book_--these with the stars and his own +thoughts had been his companions on many lonely expeditions; and in +consequence he had acquired a queer little look of aloofness which +made him at once noticeable amongst his fellows. A misleading look, +since it encouraged a confidence for which there might not be +sufficient justification. It was just this look which persuaded Mr. +Haslitt now. "This is the very man to deal with creatures like Boris +Waberski," he thought, but he did not say so aloud. + +What he did say was: + +"It may not be necessary after all. Betty Harlowe has a French +lawyer. No doubt he is adequate. Besides"--and he smiled as he +recollected a phrase in Waberski's second letter--"Betty seems very +capable of looking after herself. We shall see." + +He went back to his own office, and for a week he heard no more from +Dijon. His anxiety, indeed, was almost forgotten when suddenly +startling news arrived and by the most unexpected channel. + +Jim Frobisher brought it. He broke into Mr. Haslitt's office at the +sacred moment when the senior partner was dictating to a clerk the +answers to his morning letters. + +"Sir!" cried Jim, and stopped short at the sight of the clerk. Mr. +Haslitt took a quick look at his young partner's face and said: + +"We will resume these answers, Godfrey, later on." + +The clerk took his shorthand notebook out of the room, and Mr. +Haslitt turned to Jim Frobisher. + +"Now, what's your bad news, Jim?" + +Jim blurted it out. + +"Waberski accuses Betty Harlowe of murder." + +"What!" + +Mr. Haslitt sprang to his feet. Jim Frobisher could not have said +whether incredulity or anger had the upper hand with the old man, the +one so creased his forehead, the other so blazed in his eyes. + +"Little Betty Harlowe!" he said in a wondering voice. + +"Yes. Waberski has laid a formal charge with the Prefect of Police +at Dijon. He accuses Betty of poisoning Mrs. Harlowe on the night of +April the twenty-seventh." + +"But Betty's not arrested?" Mr. Haslitt exclaimed. + +"No, but she's under surveillance." + +Mr. Haslitt sat heavily down in his arm-chair at his table. +Extravagant! Uncontrolled! These were very mild epithets for Boris +Waberski. Here was a devilish malignity at work in the rogue, a +passion for revenge just as mean as could be imagined. + +"How do you know all this, Jim?" he asked suddenly. + +"I have had a letter this morning from Dijon." + +"You?" exclaimed Mr. Haslitt, and the question caught hold of Jim +Frobisher and plunged him too among perplexities. In the first shock +of the news, the monstrous fact of the accusation had driven +everything else out of his head. Now he asked himself why, after +all, had the news come to him and not to the partner who had the +Harlowe estate in his charge. + +"Yes, it is strange," he replied. "And here's another queer thing. +The letter doesn't come from Betty Harlowe, but from a friend, a +companion of hers, Ann Upcott." + +Mr. Haslitt was a little relieved. + +"Betty had a friend with her, then? That's a good thing." He +reached out his hand across the table. "Let me read the letter, Jim." + +Frobisher had been carrying it in his hand, and he gave it now to +Jeremy Haslitt. It was a letter of many sheets, and Jeremy let the +edges slip and flicker under the ball of his thumb. + +"Have I got to read all this?" he said ruefully, and he set himself +to his task. Boris Waberski had first of all accused Betty to her +face. Betty had contemptuously refused to answer the charge, and +Waberski had gone straight off to the Prefect of Police. He had +returned in an hour's time, wildly gesticulating and talking aloud to +himself. He had actually asked Ann Upcott to back him up. Then he +had packed his bags and retired to an hotel in the town. The story +was set out in detail, with quotations from Waberski's violent, crazy +talk; and as the old man read, Jim Frobisher became more and more +uneasy, more and more troubled. + +He was sitting by the tall, broad window which looked out upon the +square, expecting some explosion of wrath and contempt. But he saw +anxiety peep out of Mr. Haslitt's face and stay there as he read. +More than once he stopped altogether in his reading, like a man +seeking to remember or perhaps to discover. + +"But the whole thing's as clear as daylight," Jim said to himself +impatiently. And yet--and yet--Mr. Haslitt had sat in that arm-chair +during the better part of the day, during the better part of thirty +years. How many men and women during those years had crossed the +roadway below this window and crept into this quiet oblong room with +their grievances, their calamities, their confessions? And had +passed out again, each one contributing his little to complete the +old man's knowledge and sharpen the edge of his wit? Then, if Mr. +Haslitt was troubled, there was something in that letter, or some +mission from it, which he himself in his novitiate had overlooked. +He began to read it over again in his mind to the best of his +recollection, but he had not got far before Mr. Haslitt put the +letter down. + +"Surely, sir," cried Jim, "it's an obvious case of blackmail." + +Mr. Haslitt awoke with a little shake of his shoulders. + +"Blackmail? Oh! that of course, Jim." + +Mr. Haslitt got up and unlocked his safe. He took from it the two +Waberski letters and brought them across the room to Jim. + +"Here's the evidence, as damning as any one could wish." + +Jim read the letters through and uttered a little cry of delight. + +"The rogue has delivered himself over to us." + +"Yes," said Mr. Haslitt. + +But to him, at all events, that was not enough; he was still looking +through the lines of the letter for something beyond, which he could +not find. + +"Then what's troubling you?" asked Frobisher. + +Mr. Haslitt took his stand upon the worn hearthrug with his back +towards the fire. + +"This, Jim," and he began to expound. "In ninety-five of these cases +out of a hundred, there is something else, something behind the +actual charge, which isn't mentioned, but on which the blackmailer is +really banking. As a rule it's some shameful little secret, some +blot on the family honour, which any sort of public trial would bring +to light. And there must be something of that kind here. The more +preposterous Waberski's accusation is, the more certain it is that he +knows something to the discredit of the Harlowe name, which any +Harlowe would wish to keep dark. Only, I haven't an idea what the +wretched thing can be!" + +"It might be some trifle," Jim suggested, "which a crazy person like +Waberski would exaggerate." + +"Yes," Mr. Haslitt agreed. "That happens. A man brooding over +imagined wrongs, and flighty and extravagant besides--yes, that might +well be, Jim." + +Jeremy Haslitt spoke in a more cheerful voice. + +"Let us see exactly what we do know of the family," he said, and he +pulled up a chair to face Jim Frobisher and the window. But he had +not yet sat down in it, when there came a discreet knock upon the +door, and a clerk entered to announce a visitor. + +"Not yet," said Mr. Haslitt before the name of the visitor had been +mentioned. + +"Very good, sir," said the clerk, and he retired. The firm of +Frobisher & Haslitt conducted its business in that way. It was the +real thing as a firm of solicitors, and clients who didn't like its +methods were very welcome to take their affairs to the attorney round +the corner. Just as people who go to the real thing in the line of +tailors must put up with the particular style in which he cuts their +clothes. + +Mr. Haslitt turned back to Jim. + +"Let us see what we know," he said, and he sat down in the chair. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO: _A Cry for Help_ + +"Simon Harlow," he began, "was the owner of the famous Clos du Prince +vineyards on the Côte-d'Or to the east of Dijon. He had an estate in +Norfolk, this big house, the Maison Crenelle in Dijon, and a villa at +Monte Carlo. But he spent most of his time in Dijon, where at the +age of forty-five he married a French lady, Jeanne-Marie Raviart. +There was, I believe, quite a little romance about the affair. +Jeanne-Marie was married and separated from her husband, and Simon +Harlowe waited, I think, for ten years until the husband Raviart +died." + +Jim Frobisher moved quickly and Mr. Haslitt, who seemed to be reading +off this history in the pattern of the carpet, looked up. + +"Yes, I see what you mean," he said, replying to Jim's movement. +"Yes, there might have been some sort of affair between those two +before they were free to marry. But nowadays, my dear Jim! Opinion +takes a more human view than it did in my youth. Besides, don't you +see, this little secret, to be of any value to Boris Waberski, must +be near enough to Betty Harlowe--I don't say to affect her if +published, but to make Waberski think that she would hate to have it +published. Now Betty Harlowe doesn't come into the picture at all +until two years after Simon and Jeanne-Marie were married, when it +became clear that they were not likely to have any children. No, the +love-affairs of Simon Harlowe are sufficiently remote for us to leave +them aside." + +Jim Frobisher accepted the demolition of his idea with a flush of +shame. + +"I was a fool to think of it," he said. + +"Not a bit," replied Mr. Haslitt cheerfully. "Let us look at every +possibility. That's the only way which will help us to get a glimpse +of the truth. I resume, then. Simon Harlowe was a collector. Yes, +he had a passion for collecting and a very catholic one. His one +sitting-room at the Maison Crenelle was a perfect treasure-house, not +only of beautiful things, but of out-of-the-way things too. He liked +to live amongst them and do his work amongst them. His married life +did not last long. For he died five years ago at the age of +fifty-one." + +Mr. Haslitt's eyes once more searched for recollections amongst the +convolutions of the carpet. + +"That's really about all I know of him. He was a pleasant fellow +enough, but not very sociable. No, there's nothing to light a candle +for us there, I am afraid." + +Mr. Haslitt turned his thoughts to the widow. + +"Jeanne-Marie Harlowe," he said. "It's extraordinary how little I +know about her, now I come to count it up. Natural too, though. For +she sold the Norfolk estate and has since passed her whole time +between Monte Carlo and Dijon and--oh, yes--a little summer-house on +the Côte-d'Or amongst her vineyards." + +"She was left rich, I suppose?" Frobisher asked. + +"Very well off, at all events," Mr. Haslitt replied. "The Clos du +Prince Burgundy has a fine reputation, but there's not a great deal +of it." + +"Did she come to England ever?" + +"Never," said Mr. Haslitt. "She was content, it seems, with Dijon, +though to my mind the smaller provincial towns of France are dull +enough to make one scream. However, she was used to it, and then her +heart began to trouble her, and for the last two years she has been +an invalid. There's nothing to help us there." And Mr. Haslitt +looked across to Jim for confirmation. + +"Nothing," said Jim. + +"Then we are only left the child Betty Harlowe and--oh, yes, your +correspondent, your voluminous correspondent, Ann Upcott. Who is +she, Jim? Where did she spring from? How does she find herself in +the Maison Crenelle? Come, confess, young man," and Mr. Haslitt +archly looked at his junior partner. "Why should Boris Waberski +expect her support?" + +Jim Frobisher threw his arms wide. + +"I haven't an idea," he said. "I have never seen her. I have never +heard of her. I never knew of her existence until that letter came +this morning with her name signed at the end of it." + +Mr. Haslitt started up. He crossed the room to his table and, fixing +his folding glasses on the bridge of his nose, he bent over the +letter. + +"But she writes to you, Jim," he objected. "'Dear Mr. Frobisher,' +she writes. She doesn't address the firm at all"; and he waited, +looking at Jim, expecting him to withdraw this denial. + +Jim, however, only shook his head. + +"It's the most bewildering thing," he replied. "I can't make head or +tail of it"; and Mr. Haslitt could not doubt now that he spoke the +truth, so utterly and frankly baffled the young man was. "Why should +Ann Upcott write to me? I have been asking myself that question for +the last half-hour. And why didn't Betty Harlowe write to you, who +have had her affairs in your care?" + +"Ah!" + +That last question helped Mr. Haslitt to an explanation. His face +took a livelier expression. + +"The answer to that is in Waberski's, the second letter. Betty--she +snap her fingers at his awkwardnesses. She doesn't take the charge +seriously. She will have left it to the French notary to dispose of +it. Yes--I think that makes Ann Upcott's letter to you intelligible, +too. The ceremonies of the Law in a foreign country would frighten a +stranger, as this girl is apparently, more than they would Betty +Harlowe, who has lived for four years in the midst of them. So she +writes to the first name in the title of the firm, and writes to him +as a man. That's it, Jim," and the old man rubbed his hands together +in his satisfaction. + +"A girl in terror wouldn't get any comfort out of writing to an +abstraction. She wants to know that she's in touch with a real +person. So she writes, 'Dear Mr. Frobisher.' That's it! You can +take my word for it." + +Mr. Haslitt walked back to his chair. But he did not sit down in it; +he stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out of the window +over Frobisher's head. + +"But that doesn't bring us any nearer to finding out what is Boris +Waberski's strong suit, does it? We haven't a clue to it," he said +ruefully. + +To both of the men, indeed, Mr. Haslitt's flat, unillumined narrative +of facts, without a glimpse into the characters of any of the +participants in the little drama, seemed the most unhelpful thing. +Yet the whole truth was written there--the truth not only of +Waberski's move, but of all the strange terrors and mysteries into +which the younger of the two men was now to be plunged. Jim +Frobisher was to recognise that, when, shaken to the soul, he resumed +his work in the office. For it was interrupted now. + +Mr. Haslitt, looking out of the window over his partner's head, saw a +telegraph-boy come swinging across the square and hesitate in the +roadway below. + +"I expect that's a telegram for us," he said, with the hopeful +anticipation people in trouble have that something from outside will +happen and set them right. + +Jim turned round quickly. The boy was still upon the pavement +examining the numbers of the houses. + +"We ought to have a brass plate upon the door," said Jim with a touch +of impatience; and Mr. Haslitt's eyebrows rose half the height of his +forehead towards his thick white hair. He was really distressed by +the Waberski incident, but this suggestion, and from a partner in the +firm, shocked him like a sacrilege. + +"My dear boy, what are you thinking of?" he expostulated. "I hope I +am not one of those obstinate old fogies who refuse to march with the +times. We have had, as you know, a telephone instrument recently +installed in the junior clerks' office. I believe that I myself +proposed it. But a brass plate upon the door! My dear Jim! Let us +leave that to Harley Street and Southampton Row! But I see that +telegram is for us." + +The tiny Mercury with the shako and red cord to his uniform made up +his mind and disappeared into the hall below. The telegram was +brought upstairs and Mr. Haslitt tore it open. He stared at it +blankly for a few seconds, then without a word, but with a very +anxious look in his eyes, he handed it to Jim Frobisher. + +Jim Frobisher read: + + + _Please, please, send some one to help me at once. The Prefect + of Police has called in Hanaud, a great detective of the Sûrété + in Paris. They must think me guilty.--Betty Harlowe._ + + +The telegram fluttered from Jim's fingers to the floor. It was like +a cry for help at night coming from a great distance. + +"I must go, sir, by the night boat," he said. + +"To be sure!" said Mr. Haslitt a little absently. + +Jim, however, had enthusiasm enough for both. His chivalry was +fired, as is the way with lonely men, by the picture his imagination +drew. The little girl, Betty Harlowe! What age was she? +Twenty-one! Not a day more. She had been wandering with all the +proud indifference of her sex and youth, until suddenly she found her +feet caught in some trap set by a traitor, and looked about her; and +terror came and with it a wild cry for help. + +"Girls never notice danger signals," he said. "No, they walk blindly +into the very heart of catastrophe." Who could tell what links of +false and cunning evidence Boris Waberski had been hammering away at +in the dark, to slip swiftly at the right moment over her wrist and +ankle? And with that question he was seized with a great +discouragement. + +"We know very little of Criminal Procedure, even in our own country, +in this office," he said regretfully. + +"Happily," said Mr. Haslitt with some tartness. With him it was the +Firm first and last. Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt never went in to +the Criminal Courts. Litigation, indeed, even of the purest kind was +frowned upon. It is true there was a small special staff, under the +leadership of an old managing clerk, tucked away upon an upper floor, +like an unpresentable relation in a great house, which did a little +of that kind of work. But it only did it for hereditary clients, and +then as a favour. + +"However," said Mr. Haslitt as he noticed Jim's discomfort, "I +haven't a doubt, my boy, that you will be equal to whatever is +wanted. But remember, there's something at the back of this which we +here don't know." + +Jim shifted his position rather abruptly. This cry of the old man +was becoming parrot-like--a phrase, a formula. Jim was thinking of +the girl in Dijon and hearing her piteous cry for help. She was not +"snapping her the fingers" now. + +"It's a matter of common sense," Mr. Haslitt insisted. "Take a +comparison. Bath, for instance, would never call in Scotland Yard +over a case of this kind. There would have to be the certainty of a +crime first, and then grave doubt as to who was the criminal. This +is a case for an autopsy and the doctors. If they call in this man +Hanaud"--and he stopped. + +He picked the telegram up from the floor and read it through again. + +"Yes--Hanaud," he repeated, his face clouding and growing bright and +clouding again like a man catching at and just missing a very elusive +recollection. He gave up the pursuit in the end. "Well, Jim, you +had better take the two letters of Waberski, and Ann Upcott's +three-volume novel, and Betty's telegram"--he gathered the papers +together and enclosed them in a long envelope--"and I shall expect +you back again with a smiling face in a very few days. I should like +to see our little Boris when he is asked to explain those letters." + +Mr. Haslitt gave the envelope to Jim and rang his bell. + +"There is some one waiting to see me, I think," he said to the clerk +who answered it. + +The clerk named a great landowner, who had been kicking his heels +during the last half-hour in an undusted waiting-room with a few +mouldy old Law books in a battered glass case to keep him company. + +"You can show him in now," said Mr. Haslitt as Jim retired to his own +office; and when the great landowner entered, he merely welcomed him +with a reproach. + +"You didn't make an appointment, did you?" he said. + +But all through that interview, though his advice was just the +precise, clear advice for which the firm was quietly famous, Mr. +Haslitt's mind was still playing hide-and-seek with a memory, +catching glimpses of the fringes of its skirt as it gleamed and +vanished. + +"Memory is a woman," he said to himself. "If I don't run after her +she will come of her own accord." + +But he was in the common case of men with women: he could not but run +after her. Towards the end of the interview, however, his shoulders +and head moved with a little jerk, and he wrote a word down on a slip +of paper. As soon as his client had gone, he wrote a note and sent +it off by a messenger who had orders to wait for an answer. The +messenger returned within the hour and Mr. Haslitt hurried to Jim +Frobisher's office. + +Jim had just finished handing over his affairs to various clerks and +was locking up the drawers of his desk. + +"Jim, I have remembered where I have heard the name of this man +Hanaud before. You have met Julius Ricardo? He's one of our +clients." + +"Yes," said Frobisher. "I remember him--a rather finnicking person +in Grosvenor Square." + +"That's the man. He's a friend of Hanaud and absurdly proud of the +friendship. He and Hanaud were somehow mixed up in a rather +scandalous crime some time ago--at Aix-les-Bains, I think. Well, +Ricardo will give you a letter of introduction to him, and tell you +something about him, if you will go round to Grosvenor Square at five +this afternoon." + +"Capital!" said Jim Frobisher. + +He kept the appointment, and was told how he must expect to be awed +at one moment, leaped upon unpleasantly at the next, ridiculed at a +third, and treated with great courtesy and friendship at the fourth. +Jim discounted Mr. Ricardo's enthusiasm, but he got the letter and +crossed the Channel that night. On the journey it occurred to him +that if Hanaud was a man of such high mark, he would not be free, +even at an urgent call, to pack his bags and leave for the provinces +in an instant. Jim broke his journey, therefore, at Paris, and in +the course of the morning found his way to the Direction of the +Sûrété on the Quai d'Horloge just behind the Palais de Justice. + +"Monsieur Hanaud?" he asked eagerly, and the porter took his card and +his letter of introduction. The great man was still in Paris, then, +he thought with relief. He was taken to a long dark corridor, lit +with electric globes even on that bright morning of early summer. +There he rubbed elbows with malefactors and gendarmes for half an +hour whilst his confidence in himself ebbed away. Then a bell rang +and a policeman in plain clothes went up to him. One side of the +corridor was lined with a row of doors. + +"It is for you, sir," said the policeman, and he led Frobisher to one +of the doors and opened it, and stood aside. Frobisher straightened +his shoulders and marched in. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE: _Servants of Chance_ + +Frobisher found himself at one end of an oblong room. Opposite to +him a couple of windows looked across the shining river to the big +Théâtre du Chatelet On his left hand was a great table with a few +neatly arranged piles of papers, at which a big, rather heavily-built +man was sitting. Frobisher looked at that man as a novice in a +duelling field might look at the master swordsman whom he was +committed to fight; with a little shock of surprise that after all he +appeared to be just like other men. Hanaud, on his side, could not +have been said to have looked at Frobisher at all; yet when he spoke +it was obvious that somehow he had looked and to very good purpose. +He rose with a little bow and apologised. + +"I have kept you waiting, Mr. Frobisher. My dear friend Mr. Ricardo +did not mention your object in his letter. I had the idea that you +came with the usual wish to see something of the underworld. Now +that I see you, I recognise your wish is more serious." + +Hanaud was a man of middle age with a head of thick dark hair, and +the round face and shaven chin of a comedian. A pair of remarkably +light eyes under rather heavy lids alone gave a significance to him, +at all events when seen for the first time in a mood of good-will. +He pointed to a chair. + +"Will you take a seat? I will tell you, Mr. Frobisher, I have a very +soft place in my heart for Mr. Ricardo, and a friend of his---- +These are words, however. What can I do?" + +Jim Frobisher laid down his hat and stick upon a side table and took +the chair in front of Hanaud's table. + +"I am partner in a firm of lawyers which looks after the English +interests of a family in Dijon," he said, and he saw all life and +expression smoothed out of Hanaud's face. A moment ago he had been +in the company of a genial and friendly companion; now he was looking +at a Chinaman. + +"Yes?" said Hanaud. + +"The family has the name of Harlowe," Jim continued. + +"Oho!" said Hanaud. + +The ejaculation had no surprise in it, and hardly any interest. Jim, +however, persisted. + +"And the surviving member of it, a girl of twenty, Betty Harlowe, has +been charged with murder by a Russian who is connected with the +family by marriage--Boris Waberski." + +"Aha!" said Hanaud. "And why do you come to me, Mr. Frobisher?" + +Jim stared at the detective. The reason of his coming was obvious. + +And yet--he was no longer sure of his ground. Hanaud had pulled open +a drawer in his table and was beginning to put away in it one of his +files. + +"Yes?" he said, as who should say, "I am listening." + +"Well, perhaps I am under a mistake," said Jim. "But my firm has +been informed that you, Monsieur Hanaud, are in charge of the case," +he said, and Hanaud's movements were at once arrested. He sat with +the file poised on the palm of his hand as though he was weighing it, +extraordinarily still; and Jim had a swift impression that he was +more than disconcerted. Then Hanaud put the file into the drawer and +closed the drawer softly. As softly he spoke, but in a sleek voice +which to Frobisher's ears had a note in it which was actually +alarming. + +"So you have been informed of that, Mr. Frobisher! And in London! +And--yes--this is only Wednesday! News travels very quickly +nowadays, to be sure! Well, your firm has been correctly informed. +I congratulate you. The first point is scored by you." + +Jim Frobisher was quick to seize upon that word. He had thought out +upon his journey in what spirit he might most usefully approach the +detective. Hanaud's bitter little remark gave him the very opening +which he needed. + +"But, Monsieur Hanaud, I don't take that point of view at all," he +argued earnestly. "I am happy to believe that there is going to be +no antagonism between us. For, if there were, I should assuredly get +the worst of it. No! I am certain that the one wish you have in +this matter is to get at the truth. Whilst my wish is that you +should just look upon me as a very second-rate colleague who by good +fortune can give you a little help." + +A smile flickered across Hanaud's face and restored it to some of its +geniality. + +"It has always been a good rule to lay it on with a trowel," he +observed. "Now, what kind of help, Mr. Frobisher?" + +"This kind of help, Monsieur Hanaud. Two letters from Boris Waberski +demanding money, the second one with threats. Both were received by +my firm before he brought this charge, and both of course remain +unanswered." + +He took the letters from the long envelope and handed them across the +table to Hanaud, who read them through slowly, mentally translating +the phrases into French as he read. Frobisher watched his face for +some expression of relief or satisfaction. But to his utter +disappointment no such change came; and it was with a deprecating and +almost regretful air that Hanaud turned to him in the end. + +"Yes--no doubt these two letters have a certain importance. But we +mustn't exaggerate it. The case is very difficult." + +"Difficult!" cried Jim in exasperation. He seemed to be hammering +and hammering in vain against some thick wall of stupidity. Yet this +man in front of him wasn't stupid. + +"I can't understand it!" he exclaimed. "Here's the clearest instance +of blackmail that I can imagine----" + +"Blackmail's an ugly word, Mr. Frobisher," Hanaud warned him. + +"And blackmail's an ugly thing," said Jim. "Come, Monsieur Hanaud, +Boris Waberski lives in France. You will know something about him. +You will have a dossier." + +Hanaud pounced upon the word with a little whoop of delight, his face +broke into smiles, he shook a forefinger gleefully at his visitor. + +"Ah, ah, ah, ah! A dossier! Yes, I was waiting for that word! The +great legend of the dossiers! You have that charming belief too, Mr. +Frobisher. France and her dossiers! Yes. If her coal-mines fail +her, she can always keep warm by burning her dossiers! The moment +you land for the first time at Calais--bourn! your dossier begins, +eh? You travel to Paris--so! You dine at the Ritz Hotel--so! +Afterwards you go where you ought not to go--so-o-o! And you go back +late to the hotel very uncomfortable because you are quite sure that +somewhere in the still night six little officials with black beards +and green-shaded lamps are writing it all down in your dossier. +But--wait!" + +He suddenly rose from his chair with his finger to his lips, and his +eyes opened wide. Never was a man so mysterious, so important in his +mystery. He stole on tiptoe, with a lightness of step amazing in so +bulky a man, to the door. Noiselessly and very slowly, with an +alert, bright eye cocked at Frobisher like a bird's, he turned the +handle. Then he jerked the door swiftly inwards towards him. It was +the classic detection of the eavesdropper, seen in a hundred comedies +and farces; and carried out with so excellent a mimicry that Jim, +even in this office of the Sûrété, almost expected to see a flustered +chambermaid sprawl heavily forward on her knees. He saw nothing, +however, but a grimy corridor lit with artificial light in which men +were patiently waiting. Hanaud closed the door again, with an air of +intense relief. + +"The Prime Minister has not overheard us. We are safe," he hissed, +and he crept back to Frobisher's side. He stooped and whispered in +the ear of that bewildered man: + +"I can tell you about those dossiers. They are for nine-tenths the +gossip of the _concièrge_ translated into the language of a policeman +who thinks that everybody had better be in prison. Thus, the +_concièrge_ says: This Mr. Frobisher--on Tuesday he came home at one +in the morning and on Thursday at three in fancy dress; and in the +policeman's report it becomes, 'Mr. Frobisher is of a loose and +excessive life.' And that goes into your dossier--yes, my friend, +just so! But here in the Sûrété--never breathe a word of it, or you +ruin me!--here we are like your Miss Betty Harlowe, 'we snap us the +fingers at those dossiers.'" + +Jim Frobisher's mind was of the deliberate order. To change from one +mood to another required a progression of ideas. He hardly knew for +the moment whether he was upon his head or his heels. A minute ago +Hanaud had been the grave agent of Justice; without a hint he had +leaped to buffoonery, and with a huge enjoyment. He had become half +urchin, half clown. Jim could almost hear the bells of his cap still +tinkling. He simply stared, and Hanaud with a rueful smile resumed +his seat. + +"If we work together at Dijon, Monsieur Frobisher," he said with +whimsical regret, "I shall not enjoy myself as I did with my dear +little friend Mr. Ricardo at Aix. No, indeed! Had I made this +little pantomime for him, he would have sat with the eyes popping out +of his head. He would have whispered, 'The Prime Minister comes in +the morning to spy outside your door--oh!' and he would have been +thrilled to the marrow of his bones. But you--you look at me all +cold and stony, and you say to yourself, 'This Hanaud, he is a +comic!'" + +"No," said Jim earnestly, and Hanaud interrupted the protest with a +laugh. + +"It does not matter." + +"I am glad," said Jim. "For you just now said something which I am +very anxious you should not withdraw. You held me out a hope that we +should work together." Hanaud leaned forward with his elbows on his +desk. + +"Listen," he said genially. "You have been frank and loyal with me. +So I relieve your mind. This Waberski affair--the Prefect at Dijon +does not take it very seriously; neither do I here. It is, of +course, a charge of murder, and that has to be examined with care." + +"Of course." + +"And equally, of course, there is some little thing behind it," +Hanaud continued, surprising Frobisher with the very words which Mr. +Haslitt had used the day before, though the one spoke in English and +the other in French. "As a lawyer you will know that. Some little +unpleasant fact which is best kept to ourselves. But it is a simple +affair, and with these two letters you have brought me, simpler than +ever. We shall ask Waberski to explain these letters and some other +things too, if he can. He is a type, that Boris Waberski! The body +of Madame Harlowe will be exhumed to-day and the evidence of the +doctors taken, and afterwards, no doubt, the case will be dismissed +and you can deal with Waberski as you please." + +"And that little secret?" asked Jim. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"No doubt it will come to light. But what does that matter if it +only comes to light in the office of the examining magistrate, and +does not pass beyond the door?" + +"Nothing at all," Jim agreed. + +"You will see. We are not so alarming after all, and your little +client can put her pretty head upon the pillow without any fear that +an injustice will be done to her." + +"Thank you, Monsieur Hanaud!" Jim Frobisher cried warmly. He was +conscious of so great a relief that he himself was surprised by it. +He had been quite captured by his pity for that unknown girl in the +big house, set upon by a crazy rascal and with no champion but +another girl of her own years. "Yes, this is good news to me." + +But he had hardly finished speaking before a doubt crept into his +mind as to the sincerity of the man sitting opposite to him. Jim did +not mean to be played and landed like a silly fish, however +inexperienced he might be. He looked at Hanaud and wondered. Was +this present geniality of his any less assumed than his other moods? +Jim was unsettled in his estimate of the detective. One moment a +judge, and rather implacable, now an urchin, now a friend! Which was +travesty and which truth? Luckily there was a test question which +Mr. Haslitt had put only yesterday as he looked out from the window +across Russell Square. Jim now repeated it. + +"The affair is simple, you say?" + +"Of the simplest." + +"Then how comes it, Monsieur Hanaud, that the examining judge at +Dijon still finds it necessary to call in to his assistance one of +the chiefs of the Sûrété of Paris?" + +The question was obviously expected, and no less obviously difficult +to answer. Hanaud nodded his head once or twice. + +"Yes," he said, and again "Yes," like a man in doubt. He looked at +Jim with appraising eyes. Then with a rush, "I shall tell you +everything, and when I have told you, you will give me your word that +you will not betray my confidence to any one in this world. For this +is serious." + +Jim could not doubt Hanaud's sincerity at this moment, nor his +friendliness. They shone in the man like a strong flame. + +"I give you my word now," he said, and he reached out his hand across +the table. Hanaud shook it. "I can talk to you freely, then," he +answered, and he produced a little blue bundle of very black +cigarettes. "You shall smoke." + +The two men lit their cigarettes and through the blue cloud Hanaud +explained: + +"I go really to Dijon on quite another matter. This Waberski affair, +it is a pretence! The examining judge who calls me in--see, now, you +have a phrase for him," and Hanaud proudly dropped into English more +or less. "He excuse his face! Yes, that is your expressive idiom. +He excuse his face, and you will see, my friend, that it needs a lot +of excusing, that face of his, yes. Now listen! I get hot when I +think of that examining judge." + +He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and, setting his sentence +in order, resumed in French. + +"The little towns, my friend, where life is not very gay and people +have the time to be interested in the affairs of their neighbours, +have their own crimes, and perhaps the most pernicious of them all is +the crime of anonymous letters. Suddenly out of a clear sky they +will come like a pestilence, full of vile charges difficult to refute +and--who knows?--sometimes perhaps true. For a while these +abominations flow into the letter-boxes and not a word is said. If +money is demanded, money is paid. If it is only sheer wickedness +which drives that unknown pen, those who are lashed by it none the +less hold their tongues. But each one begins to suspect his +neighbour. The social life of the town is poisoned. A great canopy +of terror hangs over it, until the postman's knock, a thing so +welcome in the sane life of every day, becomes a thing to shiver at, +and in the end dreadful things happen." + +So grave and quiet was the tone which Hanaud used that Jim himself +shivered, even in this room whence he could see the sunlight +sparkling on the river and hear the pleasant murmur of the Paris +streets. Above that murmur he heard the sharp knock of the postman +upon the door. He saw a white face grow whiter and still eyes grow +haggard with despair. + +"Such a plague has descended upon Dijon," Hanaud continued. "For +more than a year it has raged. The police would not apply to Paris +for help. No, they did not need help, they would solve this pretty +problem for themselves. Yes, but the letters go on and the citizens +complain. The police say, 'Hush! The examining magistrate, he has a +clue. Give him time!' But the letters still go on. Then after a +year comes this godsend of the Waberski affair. At once the Prefect +of Police and the magistrate put their heads together. 'We will send +for Hanaud over this simple affair, and he will find for us the +author of the anonymous letters. We will send for him very +privately, and if any one recognises him in the street and cries +"There is Hanaud," we can say he is investigating the Waberski +affair. Thus the writer of the letters will not be alarmed and +we--we excuse our faces.' Yes," concluded Hanaud heatedly, "but they +should have sent for me a year ago. They have lost a year." + +"And during that year the dreadful things have happened?" asked Jim. + +Hanaud nodded angrily. + +"An old, lonely man who lunches at the hotel and takes his coffee at +the Grande Taverne and does no harm to any one, he flings himself in +front of the Mediterranean express and is cut to pieces. A pair of +lovers shoot themselves in the Forêt des Moissonières. A young girl +comes home from a ball; she says good night to her friends gaily on +the doorstep of her house, and in the morning she is found hanging in +her ball dress from a rivet in the wall of her bedroom, whilst in the +hearth there are the burnt fragments of one of these letters. How +many had she received, that poor girl, before this last one drove her +to this madness? Ah, the magistrate. Did I not tell you? He has +need to excuse his face." + +Hanaud opened a drawer in his desk and took from it a green cover. + +"See, here are two of those precious letters," and removing two +typewritten sheets from the cover he handed them to Frobisher. +"Yes," he added, as he saw the disgust on the reader's face, "those +do not make a nice sauce for your breakfast, do they?" + +"They are abominable," said Jim. "I wouldn't have believed----" he +broke off with a little cry. "One moment, Monsieur Hanaud!" He bent +his head again over the sheets of paper, comparing them, scrutinising +each sentence. No, there were only the two errors which he had +noticed at once. But what errors they were! To any one, at all +events, with eyes to see and some luck in the matter of experience. +Why, they limited the area of search at once! + +"Monsieur Hanaud, I can give you some more help," he cried +enthusiastically. He did not notice the broad grin of delight which +suddenly transfigured the detective's face. "Help which may lead you +very quickly to the writer of these letters." + +"You can?" Hanaud exclaimed. "Give it to me, my young friend. Do +not keep me shaking in excitement. And do not--oh! do not tell me +that you have discovered that the letters were typed upon a Corona +machine. For that we know already." + +Jim Frobisher flushed scarlet. That is just what he had noticed with +so much pride in his perspicuity. Where the text of a sentence +required a capital D, there were instead the two noughts with the +diagonal line separating them (thus, %), which are the symbol of "per +cent."; and where there should have been a capital S lower down the +page, there was the capital S with the transverse lines which stands +for dollars. Jim was familiar with the Corona machine himself, and +he had remembered that if one used by error the stop for figures, +instead of the stop for capital letters, those two mistakes would +result. He realised now, with Hanaud's delighted face in front of +him--Hanaud was the urchin now--that the Sûrété was certain not to +have overlooked those two indications even if the magistrate at Dijon +had; and in a moment he began to laugh too. + +"Well, I fairly asked for it, didn't I?" he said as he handed the +letter back. "I said a wise thing to you, Monsieur, when I held it +fortunate that we were not to be on opposite sides." + +Hanaud's face lost its urchin look. + +"Don't make too much of me, my friend, lest you be disappointed," he +said in all seriousness. "We are the servants of Chance, the very +best of us. Our skill is to seize quickly the hem of her skirt, when +it flashes for the fraction of a second before our eyes." + +He replaced the two anonymous letters in the green cover and laid it +again in the drawer. Then he gathered together the two letters which +Boris Waberski had written and gave them back to Jim Frobisher. + +"You will want these to produce at Dijon. You will go there to-day?" + +"This afternoon." + +"Good!" said Hanaud. "I shall take the night express." + +"I can wait for that," said Jim. But Hanaud shook his head. + +"It is better that we should not go together, nor stay at the same +hotel. It will very quickly be known in Dijon that you are the +English lawyer of Miss Harlowe, and those in your company will be +marked men too. By the way, how were you informed in London that I, +Hanaud, had been put in charge of this case?" + +"We had a telegram," replied Jim. + +"Yes? And from whom? I am curious!" + +"From Miss Harlowe." + +For a moment Hanaud was for the second time in that interview quite +disconcerted. Of that Jim Frobisher could have no doubt. He sat for +so long a time, his cigarette half-way to his lips, a man turned into +stone. Then he laughed rather bitterly, with his eyes alertly turned +on Jim. + +"Do you know what I am doing, Monsieur Frobisher?" he asked. "I am +putting to myself a riddle. Answer it if you can! What is the +strongest passion in the world? Avarice? Love? Hatred? None of +these things. It is the passion of one public official to take a +great big club and hit his brother official on the back of the head. +It is arranged that I shall go secretly to Dijon so that I may have +some little chance of success. Good! On Saturday it is so arranged, +and already on Monday my colleagues have so spread the news that Miss +Harlowe can telegraph it to you on Tuesday morning. But that is +kind, eh? May I please see the telegram?" + +Frobisher took it from the long envelope and handed it to Hanaud, who +received it with a curious eagerness and opened it out on the table +in front of them. He read it very slowly, so slowly that Jim +wondered whether he too heard through the lines of the telegram, as +through the receiver of a telephone, the same piteous cry for help +which he himself had heard. Indeed, when Hanaud raised his face all +the bitterness had gone from it. + +"The poor little girl, she is afraid now, eh? The slender fingers, +they do not snap themselves any longer, eh? Well, in a few days we +make all right for her." + +"Yes," said Jim stoutly. + +"Meanwhile I tear this, do I not?" and Hanaud held up the telegraph +form. "It mentions my name. It will be safe with you, no doubt, but +it serves no purpose. Everything which is torn up here is burnt in +the evening. It is for you to say," and he dangled the telegram +before Jim Frobisher's eyes. + +"By all means," said Jim, and Hanaud tore the telegram across. Then +he placed the torn pieces together and tore them through once again +and dropped them into his waste-paper basket. "So! That is done!" +he said. "Now tell me! There is another young English girl in the +Maison Crenelle." + +"Ann Upcott," said Jim with a nod. + +"Yes, tell me about her." + +Jim made the same reply to Hanaud which he had made to Mr. Haslitt. + +"I have never seen her in my life. I never heard of her until +yesterday." + +But whereas Mr. Haslitt had received the answer with amazement, +Hanaud accepted it without comment. + +"Then we shall both make the acquaintance of that young lady at +Dijon," he said with a smile, and he rose from his chair. + +Jim Frobisher had a feeling that the interview which had begun badly +and moved on to cordiality was turning back upon itself and ending +not too well. He was conscious of a subtle difference in Hanaud's +manner, not a diminution in his friendliness, but--Jim could find +nothing but Hanaud's own phrase to define the change. He seemed to +have caught the hem of the skirt of Chance as it flickered for a +second within his range of vision. But when it had flickered Jim +could not even conjecture. + +He picked up his hat and stick. Hanaud was already at the door with +his hand upon the knob. + +"Good-bye, Monsieur Frobisher, and I thank you sincerely for your +visit." + +"I shall see you in Dijon," said Jim. + +"Surely," Hanaud agreed with a smile. "On many occasions. In the +office, perhaps, of the examining magistrate. No doubt in the Maison +Crenelle." + +But Jim was not satisfied. It was a real collaboration which Hanaud +had appeared a few minutes ago not merely to accept, but even to look +forward to. Now, on the contrary, he was evading it. + +"But if we are to work together?" Jim suggested. + +"You might want to reach me quickly," Hanaud continued. "Yes. And I +might want to reach you, if not so quickly, still very secretly. +Yes." He turned the question over in his mind. "You will stay at +the Maison Crenelle, I suppose?" + +"No," said Jim, and he drew a little comfort from Hanaud's little +start of disappointment. "There will be no need for that," he +explained. "Boris Waberski can attempt nothing more. Those two +girls will be safe enough." + +"That's true," Hanaud agreed. "You will go, then, to the big hotel +in the Place Darcy. For me I shall stay in one that is more obscure, +and not under my own name. Whatever chance of secrecy is still left +for me, that I shall cling to." + +He did not volunteer the name of the obscure hotel or the name under +which he proposed to masquerade, and Jim was careful not to inquire. +Hanaud stood with his hand upon the knob of the door and his eyes +thoughtfully resting upon Frobisher's face. + +"I will trust you with a little trick of mine," he said, and a smile +warmed and lit his face to good humour. "Do you like the pictures? +No--yes? For me, I adore them. Wherever I go I snatch an hour for +the cinema. I behold wonderful things and I behold them in the +dark--so that while I watch I can talk quietly with a friend, and +when the lights go up we are both gone, and only our empty bocks are +left to show where we were sitting. The cinemas--yes! With their +audiences which constantly change and new people coming in who sit +plump down upon your lap because they cannot see an inch beyond their +noses, the cinemas are useful, I tell you. But you will not betray +my little secret?" + +He ended with a laugh. Jim Frobisher's spirits were quite revived by +this renewal of Hanaud's confidence. He felt with a curious elation +that he had travelled a long way from the sedate dignities of Russell +Square. He could not project in his mind any picture of Messrs. +Frobisher & Haslitt meeting a client in a dark corner of a cinema +theatre off the Marylebone Road. Such manoeuvres were not amongst +the firm's methods, and Jim began to find the change exhilarating. +Perhaps, after all, Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt were a little musty, +he reflected. They missed--and he coined a phrase, he, Jim +Frobisher! ... they missed the ozone of police-work. + +"Of course I'll keep your secret," he said with a thrill in his +voice. "I should never have thought of so capital a meeting-place." + +"Good," said Hanaud. "Then at nine o'clock each night, unless there +is something serious to prevent me, I shall be sitting in the big +hall of the Grande Taverne. The Grande Taverne is at the corner +across the square from the railway station. You can't mistake it. I +shall be on the left-hand side of the hall and close up to the screen +and at the edge near the billiard-room. Don't look for me when the +lights are raised, and if I am talking to any one else, you will +avoid me like poison. Is that understood?" + +"Quite," Jim returned. + +"And you have now two secrets of mine to keep." Hanaud's face lost +its smile. In some strange way it seemed to sharpen, the +light-coloured eyes became very still and grave. "That also is +understood, Monsieur Frobisher," he said. "For I begin to think that +we may both of us see strange things before we leave Dijon again for +Paris." + +The moment of gravity passed. With a bow he held open the door. But +Jim Frobisher, as he passed out into the corridor, was once again +convinced that at some definite point in the interview Hanaud had at +all events caught a glimpse of the flickering skirts of Chance, even +if he had not grasped them in his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR: _Betty Harlowe_ + +Jim Frobisher reached Dijon that night at an hour too late for any +visit, but at half-past nine on the next morning he turned with a +thrill of excitement into the little street of Charles-Robert. This +street was bordered upon one side, throughout its length, by a high +garden wall above which great sycamores and chestnut trees rustled +friendlily in a stir of wind. Towards the farther mouth of the +street the wall was broken, first by the end of a house with a florid +observation-window of the Renaissance period which overhung the +footway; and again a little farther on by a pair of elaborate tall +iron gates. Before these gates Jim came to a standstill. He gazed +into the courtyard of the Maison Crenelle, and as he gazed his +excitement died away and he felt a trifle ashamed of it. There +seemed so little cause for excitement. + +It was a hot, quiet, cloudless morning. On the left-hand side of the +court women-servants were busy in front of a row of offices; at the +end Jim caught glimpses of a chauffeur moving between a couple of +cars in a garage, and heard him whistling gaily as he moved; on the +right stretched the big house, its steep slate roof marked out gaily +with huge diamond patterns of bright yellow, taking in the sunlight +through all its open windows. The hall door under the horizontal +glass fan stood open. One of the iron gates, too, was ajar. Even +the _sergent-de-ville_ in his white trousers out in the small street +here seemed to be sheltering from the sun in the shadow of the high +wall rather than exercising any real vigilance. It was impossible to +believe, with all this pleasant evidence of normal life, that any +threat was on that house or upon any of its inhabitants. + +"And indeed there is no threat," Jim reflected. "I have Hanaud's +word for it." + +He pushed the gate open and crossed to the front door. An old +serving-man informed him that Mademoiselle Harlowe did not receive, +but he took Jim's card nevertheless, and knocked upon a door on the +right of the big square hall. As he knocked, he opened the door; and +from his position in the hall Jim looked right through a library to a +window at the end and saw two figures silhouetted against the window, +a man and a girl. The man was protesting, rather extravagantly both +in word and gesture, to Jim's Britannic mind, the girl laughing--a +clear, ringing laugh, with just a touch of cruelty, at the man's +protestations. Jim even caught a word or two of the protest spoken +in French, but with a curiously metallic accent. + +"I have been your slave too long," the man cried, and the girl became +aware that the door was open and that the old man stood inside of it +with a card upon a silver salver. She came quickly forward and took +the card. Jim heard the cry of pleasure, and the girl came running +out into the hall. + +"You!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "I had no right to expect +you so soon. Oh, thank you!" and she gave him both her hands. + +Jim did not need her words to recognise in her the "little girl" of +Mr. Haslitt's description. Little in actual height Betty Harlowe +certainly was not, but she was such a slender trifle of a girl that +the epithet seemed in place. Her hair was dark brown in colour, with +a hint of copper where the light caught it, parted on one side and +very neatly dressed about her small head. The broad forehead and +oval face were of a clear pallor and made vivid the fresh scarlet of +her lips; and the large pupils of her grey eyes gave to her a look +which was at once haunting and wistful. As she held out her hands in +a warm gratitude and seized his, she seemed to him a creature of +delicate flame and fragile as fair china. She looked him over with +one swift comprehensive glance and breathed a little sigh of relief. + +"I shall give you all my troubles to carry from now on," she said, +with a smile. + +"To be sure. That's what I am here for," he answered. "But don't +take me for anything very choice and particular." + +Betty laughed again and, holding him by the sleeve, drew him into the +library. + +"Monsieur Espinosa," she said, presenting the stranger to Jim. "He +is from Cataluna, but he spends so much of his life in Dijon that we +claim him as a citizen." + +The Catalan bowed and showed a fine set of strong white teeth. + +"Yes, I have the honour to represent a great Spanish firm of +wine-growers. We buy the wines here to mix with our better brands, +and we sell wine here to mix with their cheaper ones." + +"You mustn't give your trade secrets away to me," Jim replied +shortly. He disliked Espinosa on sight, as they say, and he was at +no very great pains to conceal his dislike. Espinosa was altogether +too brilliant a personage. He was a big, broad-shouldered man with +black shining hair and black shining eyes, a florid complexion, a +curled moustache, and gleaming rings upon his fingers. + +"Mr. Frobisher has come from London to see me on quite different +business," Betty interposed. + +"Yes?" said the Catalan a little defiantly, as though he meant to +hold his ground. + +"Yes," replied Betty, and she held out her hand to him. Espinosa +raised it reluctantly to his lips and kissed it. + +"I shall see you when you return," said Betty, and she walked to the +door. + +"If I go away," Espinosa replied stubbornly. "It is not certain, +Mademoiselle Betty, that I shall go"; and with a ceremonious bow to +Jim he walked out of the room; but not so quickly but that Betty +glanced swiftly from one man to the other with keen comparing eyes, +and Jim detected the glance. She closed the door and turned back to +Jim with a friendly little grimace which somehow put him in a good +humour. He was being compared to another man to his advantage, and +however modest one may be, such a comparison promotes a pleasant +warmth. + +"More trouble, Miss Harlowe," he said with a smile, "but this time +the sort of trouble which you must expect for a good many years to +come." + +He moved towards her, and they met at one of the two side windows +which looked out upon the courtyard. Betty sat down in the +window-seat. + +"I really ought to be grateful to him," she said, "for he made me +laugh. And it seems to me ages since I laughed"; she looked out of +the window and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. + +"Oh! don't, please," cried Jim in a voice of trouble. + +The smile trembled once more on Betty's lips deliciously. + +"I won't," she replied. + +"I was so glad to hear you laugh," he continued, "after your unhappy +telegram to my partner and before I told you my good news." + +Betty looked up at him eagerly. + +"Good news?" + +Jim Frobisher took once more from his long envelope the two letters +which Waberski had sent to his firm and handed them to Betty. + +"Read them," he said, "and notice the dates." + +Betty glanced at the handwriting. + +"From Monsieur Boris," she cried, and she settled down in the +window-seat to study them. In her short black frock with her slim +legs in their black silk stockings extended and her feet crossed, and +her head and white neck bent over the sheets of Waberski's letters, +she looked to Jim like a girl fresh from school. She was quick +enough, however, to appreciate the value of the letters. + +"Of course I always knew that it was money that Monsieur Boris +wanted," she said. "And when my aunt's will was read and I found +that everything had been left to me, I made up my mind to consult you +and make some arrangement for him." + +"There was no obligation upon you," Jim protested. "He wasn't really +a relation at all. He married Mrs. Harlowe's sister, that's all." + +"I know," replied Betty, and she laughed. "He always objected to me +because I would call him 'Monsieur Boris' instead of 'uncle.' But I +meant to do something nevertheless. Only he gave me no time. He +bullied me first of all, and I do hate being bullied--don't you, Mr. +Frobisher?" + +"I do." + +Betty looked at the letters again. + +"That's when I snapped me the fingers at him, I suppose," she +continued, with a little gurgle of delight in the phrase. +"Afterwards he brought this horrible charge against me, and to have +suggested any arrangement would have been to plead guilty." + +"You were quite right. It would indeed," Jim agreed cordially. + +Up to this moment, a suspicion had been lurking at the back of Jim +Frobisher's mind that this girl had been a trifle hard in her +treatment of Boris Waberski. He was a sponger, a wastrel, with no +real claim upon her, it was true. On the other hand, he had no means +of livelihood, and Mrs. Harlowe, from whom Betty drew her fortune, +had been content to endure and support him. Now, however, the +suspicion was laid, the little blemish upon the girl removed and by +her own frankness. + +"Then it is all over," Betty said, handing back the letters to Jim +with a sigh of relief. Then she smiled ruefully--"But just for a +little while I was really frightened," she confessed. "You see, I +was sent for and questioned by the examining magistrate. Oh! I +wasn't frightened by the questions, but by him, the man. I've no +doubt it's his business to look severe, but I couldn't help thinking +that if any one looked as terrifically severe as he did, it must be +because he hadn't any brains and wanted you not to know. And people +without brains are always dangerous, aren't they?" + +"Yes, that wasn't encouraging," Jim agreed. + +"Then he forbade me to use a motor-car, as if he expected me to run +away. And to crown everything, when I came away from the Palais de +Justice, I met some friends outside who gave me a long list of people +who had been condemned and only found to be innocent when it was too +late." + +Jim stared at her. + +"The brutes!" he cried. + +"Well, we have all got friends like that," Betty returned +philosophically. "Mine, however, were particularly odious. For they +actually discussed, as a reason of course, why I should engage the +very best advocate, whether, since Mrs. Harlowe had adopted me, the +charge couldn't be made one of matricide. In which case there could +be no pardon, and I must go to the guillotine with a black veil over +my head and naked feet." She saw horror and indignation in Jim +Frobisher's face and she reached out a hand to him. + +"Yes. Malice in the provinces is apt to be a little blunt, +though"--and she lifted a slim foot in a shining slipper and +contemplated it whimsically--"I don't imagine that, given the +circumstances, I should be bothering my head much as to whether I was +wearing my best shoes and stockings or none at all." + +"I never heard of so abominable a suggestion," cried Jim. + +"You can imagine, at all events, that I came home a little rattled," +continued Betty, "and why I sent off that silly panicky telegram. I +would have recalled it when I rose to the surface again. But it was +then too late. The telegram had----" + +She broke off abruptly with a little rise of inflexion and a sharp +indraw of her breath. + +"Who is that?" she asked in a changed voice. She had been speaking +quietly and slowly, with an almost humorous appreciation of the +causes of her fear. Now her question was uttered quickly and anxiety +was predominant in her voice. "Yes, who is that?" she repeated. + +A big, heavily built man sauntering past the great iron gates had +suddenly whipped into the courtyard. A fraction of a second before +he was an idler strolling along the path, now he was already +disappearing under the big glass fan of the porch. + +"It's Hanaud," Jim replied, and Betty rose to her feet as though a +spring in her had been released, and stood swaying. + +"You have nothing to fear from Hanaud," Jim Frobisher reassured her. +"I have shown him those two letters of Waberski. From first to last +he is your friend. Listen. This is what he said to me only +yesterday in Paris." + +"Yesterday, in Paris?" Betty asked suddenly. + +"Yes, I called upon him at the Sûrété. These were his words. I +remembered them particularly so that I could repeat them to you just +as they were spoken. 'Your little client can lay her pretty head +upon her pillow confident that no injustice will be done to her.'" + +The bell of the front door shrilled through the house as Jim finished. + +"Then why is he in Dijon? Why is he at the door now?" Betty asked +stubbornly. + +But that was the one question which Jim must not answer. He had +received a confidence from Hanaud. He had pledged his word not to +betray it. For a little while longer Betty must believe that +Waberski's accusation against her was the true reason of Hanaud's +presence in Dijon, and not merely an excuse for it. + +"Hanaud acts under orders," Jim returned. "He is here because he was +bidden to come"; and to his relief the answer sufficed. In truth, +Betty's thoughts were diverted to some problem to which he had not +the key. + +"So you called upon Monsieur Hanaud in Paris," she said, with a warm +smile. "You have forgotten nothing which could help me." She laid a +hand upon the sill of the open window. "I hope that he felt all the +flattery of my panic-stricken telegram to London." + +"He was simply regretful that you should have been so distressed." + +"So you showed him the telegram?" + +"And he destroyed it. It was my excuse for calling upon him with the +letters." + +Betty sat down again on the window-seat and lifted a finger for +silence. Outside the door voices were speaking. Then the door was +opened and the old man-servant entered. He carried this time no card +upon a salver, but he was obviously impressed and a trifle flustered. + +"Mademoiselle," he began, and Betty interrupted him. All trace of +anxiety had gone from her manner. She was once more mistress of +herself. + +"I know, Gaston. Show Monsieur Hanaud in at once." + +But Monsieur Hanaud was already in. He bowed with a pleasant +ceremony to Betty Harlowe and shook hands cordially with Jim +Frobisher. + +"I was delighted as I came through the court, Mademoiselle, to see +that my friend here was already with you. For he will have told you +that I am not, after all, the ogre of the fairy-books." + +"But you never looked up at the windows once," cried Betty in +perplexity. + +Hanaud smiled gaily. + +"Mademoiselle, it is in the technique of my trade never to look up at +windows and yet to know what is going on behind them. With your +permission?" And he laid his hat and cane upon a big writing-table +in the middle of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE: _Betty Harlowe Answers_ + +"But we cannot see even through the widest of windows," Hanaud +continued, "what happened behind them a fortnight ago. In those +cases, Mademoiselle, we have to make ourselves the nuisance and ask +the questions." + +"I am ready to answer you," returned Betty quietly. + +"Oh, of that--not a doubt," Hanaud cried genially. "Is it permitted +to me to seat myself? Yes?" + +Betty jumped up, the pallor of her face flushed to pink. + +"I beg your pardon. Of course, Monsieur Hanaud." + +That little omission in her manners alone showed Jim Frobisher that +she was nervous. But for it, he would have credited her with a +self-command almost unnatural in her years. + +"It is nothing," said Hanaud with a smile. "After all, we are--the +gentlest of us--disturbing guests." He took a chair from the side of +the table and drew it up close so that he faced Betty. But whatever +advantage was to be gained from the positions he yielded to her. For +the light from the window fell in all its morning strength upon his +face, whilst hers was turned to the interior of the room. + +"So!" he said as he sat down. "Mademoiselle, I will first give you a +plan of our simple procedure, as at present I see it. The body of +Madame Harlowe was exhumed the night before last in the presence of +your notary." + +Betty moved suddenly with a little shiver of revolt. + +"I know," he continued quickly. "These necessities are distressing. +But we do Madame Harlowe no hurt, and we have to think of the living +one, you, Miss Betty Harlowe, and make sure that no suspicion shall +rest upon you--no, not even amongst your most loyal friends. Isn't +that so? Well, next, I put my questions to you here. Then we wait +for the analyst's report. Then the Examining Magistrate will no +doubt make you his compliments, and I, Hanaud, will, if I am lucky, +carry back with me to that dull Paris, a signed portrait of the +beautiful Miss Harlowe against my heart." + +"And that will be all?" cried Betty, clasping her hands together in +her gratitude. + +"For you, Mademoiselle, yes. But for our little Boris--no!" Hanaud +grinned with a mischievous anticipation. "I look forward to half an +hour with that broken-kneed one. I shall talk to him and I shall not +be dignified--no, not at all. I shall take care, too, that my good +friend Monsieur Frobisher is not present. He would take from me all +my enjoyment. He would look at me all prim like my maiden aunt and +he would say to himself, 'Shocking! Oh, that comic! What a fellow! +He is not proper.' No, and I shall not be proper. But, on the other +hand, I will laugh all the way from Dijon to Paris." + +Monsieur Hanaud had indeed begun to laugh already and Betty suddenly +joined in with him. Hers was a clear, ringing laugh of enjoyment, +and Jim fancied himself once more in the hall hearing that laughter +come pealing through the open door. + +"Ah, that is good!" exclaimed Hanaud. "You can laugh, Mademoiselle, +even at my foolishnesses. You must keep Monsieur Frobisher here in +Dijon and not let him return to London until he too has learnt that +divinest of the arts." + +Hanaud hitched his chair a little nearer, and a most uncomfortable +image sprang at once into Jim Frobisher's mind. Just so, with light +words and little jokes squeezed out to tenuity, did doctors hitch up +their chairs to the bedsides of patients in a dangerous case. It +took quite a few minutes of Hanaud's questions before that image +entirely vanished from his thoughts. + +"Good!" said Hanaud. "Now let us to business and get the facts all +clear and ordered!" + +"Yes," Jim agreed, and he too hitched his chair a little closer. It +was curious, he reflected, how little he did know of the actual facts +of the case. + +"Now tell me, Mademoiselle! Madame Harlowe died, so far as we know, +quite peacefully in her bed during the night." + +"Yes," replied Betty. + +"During the night of April the 27th?" + +"Yes." + +"She slept alone in her room that night?" + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"That was her rule?" + +"Yes." + +"I understand Madame Harlowe's heart had given her trouble for some +time." + +"She had been an invalid for three years." + +"And there was a trained nurse always in the house?" + +"Yes." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"Now tell me, Mademoiselle, where did this nurse sleep? Next door to +Madame?" + +"No. A bedroom had been fitted up for her on the same floor but at +the end of the passage." + +"And how far away was this bedroom?" + +"There were two rooms separating it from my aunt's." + +"Large rooms?" + +"Yes," Betty explained. "These rooms are on the ground-floor, and +are what you would call reception-rooms. But, since Madame's heart +made the stairs dangerous for her, some of them were fitted up +especially for her use." + +"Yes, I see," said Hanaud. "Two big reception-rooms between, eh? +And the walls of the house are thick. It is not difficult to see +that it was not built in these days. I ask you this, Mademoiselle. +Would a cry from Madame Harlowe at night, when all the house was +silent, be heard in the nurse's room?" + +"I am very sure that it would not," Betty returned. "But there was a +bell by Madame's bed which rang in the nurse's room. She had hardly +to lift her arm to press the button." + +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "A bell specially fitted up?" + +"Yes." + +"And the button within reach of the fingers. Yes. That is all very +well, if one does not faint, Mademoiselle. But suppose one does! +Then the bell is not very useful. Was there no room nearer which +could have been set aside for the nurse?" + +"There was one next to my aunt's room, Monsieur Hanaud, with a +communicating door." + +Hanaud was puzzled and sat back in his chair. Jim Frobisher thought +the time had come for him to interpose. He had been growing more and +more restless as the catechism progressed. He could not see any +reason why Betty, however readily and easily she answered, should be +needlessly pestered. + +"Surely, Monsieur Hanaud," he said, "it would save a deal of time if +we paid a visit to these rooms and saw them for ourselves." + +Hanaud swung round like a thing on a swivel. Admiration beamed in +his eyes. He gazed at his junior colleague in wonder. + +"But what an idea!" he cried enthusiastically. "What a fine idea! +How ingenious! How difficult to conceive! And it is you, Monsieur +Frobisher, who have thought of it! I make you my distinguished +compliments!" Then all his enthusiasm declined into lassitude. "But +what a pity!" + +Hanaud waited intently for Jim to ask for an explanation of that +sigh, but Jim simply got red in the face and refused to oblige. He +had obviously made an asinine suggestion and was being rallied for it +in front of the beautiful Betty Harlowe, who looked to him for her +salvation; and on the whole he thought Hanaud to be a rather +insufferable person as he sat there brightly watching for some second +inanity. Hanaud in the end had to explain. + +"We should have visited those rooms before now, Monsieur Frobisher. +But the Commissaire of Police has sealed them up and without his +presence we must not break the seals." + +An almost imperceptible movement was made by Betty Harlowe in the +window; an almost imperceptible smile flickered for the space of a +lightning-flash upon her lips; and Jim saw Hanaud stiffen like a +watch-dog when he hears a sound at night. + +"You are amused, Mademoiselle?" he asked sharply. + +"On the contrary, Monsieur." + +And the smile reappeared upon her face and was seen to be what it +was, pure wistfulness. "I had a hope those great seals with their +linen bands across the doors were all now to be removed. It is +fanciful, no doubt, but I have a horror of them. They seem to me +like an interdict upon the house." + +Hanaud's manner changed in an instant. + +"That I can very well understand, Mademoiselle," he said, "and I will +make it my business to see that those seals are broken. Indeed, +there was no great use in affixing them, since they were only affixed +when the charge was brought and ten days after Madame Harlowe died." +He turned to Jim. "But we in France are all tied up in red tape, +too. However, the question at which I am driving does not depend +upon any aspect of the rooms. It is this, Mademoiselle," and he +turned back to Betty. + +"Madame Harlowe was an invalid with a nurse in constant attendance. +How is it that the nurse did not sleep in that suitable room with the +communicating-door? Why must she be where she could hear no cry, no +sudden call?" + +Betty nodded her head. Here was a question which demanded an answer. +She leaned forward, choosing her words with care. + +"Yes, but for that, Monsieur, you must understand something of Madame +my aunt and put yourself for a moment in her place. She would have +it so. She was, as you say, an invalid. For three years she had not +gone beyond the garden except in a private saloon once a year to +Monte Carlo. But she would not admit her malady. No, she was in her +mind strong and a fighter. She was going to get well, it was always +a question of a few weeks with her, and a nurse in her uniform always +near with the door open, as though she were in the last stages of +illness--that distressed her." Betty paused and went on again. "Of +course, when she had some critical attack, the nurse was moved. I +myself gave the order. But as soon as the attack subsided, the nurse +must go. Madame would not endure it." + +Jim understood that speech. Its very sincerity gave him a glimpse of +the dead woman, made him appreciate her tough vitality. She would +not give in. She did not want the paraphernalia of malady always +about her. No, she would sleep in her own room, and by herself, like +other women of her age. Yes, Jim understood that and believed every +word that Betty spoke. Only--only--she was keeping something back. +It was that which troubled him. What she said was true, but there +was more to be said. There had been hesitation in Betty's speech, +too nice a choice of words and then suddenly a little rush of phrases +to cover up the hesitations. He looked at Hanaud, who was sitting +without a movement and with his eyes fixed upon Betty's face, +demanding more from her by his very impassivity. They were both, Jim +felt sure, upon the edge of that little secret which, according to +Haslitt as to Hanaud was always at the back of such wild charges as +Waberski brought--the little shameful family secret which must be +buried deep from the world's eyes. And while Jim was pondering upon +this explanation of Betty's manner, he was suddenly startled out of +his wits by a passionate cry which broke from her lips. + +"Why do you look at me like that?" she cried to Hanaud, her eyes +suddenly ablaze in her white face and her lips shaking. Her voice +rose to a challenge. + +"Do you disbelieve me, Monsieur Hanaud?" + +Hanaud raised his hands in protest. He leaned back in his chair. +The vigilance of his eyes, of his whole attitude, was relaxed. + +"I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle," he said with a good deal of +self-reproach. "I do not disbelieve you. I was listening with both +my ears to what you said, so that I might never again have to trouble +you with my questions. But I should have remembered, what I forgot, +that for a number of days you have been living under a heavy strain. +My manner was at fault." + +The small tornado of passion passed. Betty sank back in the corner +of the window-seat, her head resting against the side of the sash and +her face a little upturned. + +"You are really very considerate, Monsieur Hanaud," she returned. +"It is I who should beg your pardon. For I was behaving like a +hysterical schoolgirl. Will you go on with your questions?" + +"Yes," Hanaud replied gently. "It is better that we finish with them +now. Let us come back to the night of the twenty-seventh!" + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"Madame was in her usual health that night--neither better nor worse." + +"If anything a little better," returned Betty. + +"So that you did not hesitate to go on that evening to a dance given +by some friends of yours?" + +Jim started. So Betty was actually out of the house on that fatal +night. Here was a new point in her favour. "A dance!" he cried, and +Hanaud lifted his hand. + +"If you please, Monsieur Frobisher!" he said. "Let Mademoiselle +speak!" + +"I did not hesitate," Betty explained. "The life of the household +had to go on normally. It would never have done for me to do unusual +things. Madame was quick to notice. I think that although she would +not admit that she was dangerously ill, at the bottom of her mind she +suspected that she was; and one had to be careful not to alarm her." + +"By such acts, for instance, as staying away from a dance to which +she knew that you had meant to go?" said Hanaud. "Yes, Mademoiselle. +I quite understand that." + +He cocked his head at Jim Frobisher, and added with a smile, "Ah, you +did not know that, Monsieur Frobisher. No, nor our friend Boris +Waberski, I think. Or he would hardly have rushed to the Prefect of +Police in such a hurry. Yes, Mademoiselle was dancing with her +friends on this night when she is supposed to be committing the most +monstrous of crimes. By the way, Mademoiselle, where was Boris +Waberski on the night of the 27th?" + +"He was away," returned Betty. "He went away on the 25th to fish for +trout at a village on the River Ouche, and he did not come back until +the morning of the 28th." + +"Exactly," said Hanaud. "What a type that fellow! Let us hope he +had a better landing-net for his trout than the one he prepared so +hastily for Mademoiselle Harlowe. Otherwise his three days' sport +cannot have amounted to much." + +His laugh and his words called up a faint smile upon Betty's face and +then he swept back to his questions. + +"So you went to a dance, Mademoiselle. Where?" + +"At the house of Monsieur de Pouillac on the Boulevard Thiers." + +"And at what hour did you go?" + +"I left this house at five minutes to nine." + +"You are sure of the hour?" + +"Quite," said Betty. + +"Did you see Madame Harlowe before you went?" + +"Yes," Betty answered. "I went to her room just before I left. She +took her dinner in bed, as she often did. I was wearing for the +dance a new frock which I had bought this winter at Monte Carlo, and +I went to her room to show her how I looked in it." + +"Was Madame alone?" + +"No; the nurse was with her." + +And upon that Hanaud smiled with a great appearance of cunning. + +"I knew that, Mademoiselle," he declared with a friendly grin. "See, +I set a little trap for you. For I have here the evidence of the +nurse herself, Jeanne Baudin." + +He took out from his pocket a sheet of paper upon which a paragraph +was typed. "Yes, the examining magistrate sent for her and took her +statement." + +"I didn't know that," said Betty. "Jeanne left us the day of the +funeral and went home. I have not seen her since." + +She nodded at Hanaud once or twice with a little smile of +appreciation. + +"I would not like to be a person with a secret to hide from you, +Monsieur Hanaud," she said admiringly. "I do not think that I should +be able to hide it for long." + +Hanaud expanded under the flattery like a novice, and, to Jim +Frobisher's thinking, rather like a very vulgar novice. + +"You are wise, Mademoiselle," he exclaimed. "For, after all, I am +Hanaud. There is only one," and he thumped his chest and beamed +delightedly. "Heavens, these are politenesses! Let us get on. This +is what the nurse declared," and he read aloud from his sheet of +paper: + +"Mademoiselle came to the bedroom, so that Madame might admire her in +her new frock of silver tissue and her silver slippers. Mademoiselle +arranged the pillows and saw that Madame had her favourite books and +her drink beside the bed. Then she wished her good night, and with +her pretty frock rustling and gleaming, she tripped out of the room. +As soon as the door was closed, Madame said to me----" and Hanaud +broke off abruptly. "But that does not matter," he said in a hurry. + +Suddenly and sharply Betty leaned forward. + +"Does it not, Monsieur?" she asked, her eyes fixed upon his face, and +the blood mounting slowly into her pale cheeks. + +"No," said Hanaud, and he began to fold the sheet of paper. + +"What does the nurse report that Madame said to her about me, as soon +as the door was closed?" Betty asked, measuring out her words with a +slow insistence. "Come, Monsieur! I have a right to know," and she +held out her hand for the paper. + +"You shall judge for yourself that it was of no importance," said +Hanaud. "Listen!" and once more he read. + +"Madame said to me, looking at her clock, 'It is well that +Mademoiselle has gone early. For Dijon is not Paris, and unless you +go in time there are no partners for you to dance with.' It was then +ten minutes to nine." + +With a smile Hanaud gave the paper into Betty's hand; and she bent +her head over it swiftly, as though she doubted whether what he had +recited was really written on that sheet, as if she rather trembled +to think what Mrs. Harlowe had said of her after she had gone from +the room. She took only a second or two to glance over the page, but +when she handed it back to him, her manner was quite changed. + +"Thank you," she said with a note of bitterness, and her deep eyes +gleamed with resentment. Jim understood the change and sympathised +with it. Hanaud had spoken of setting a trap when he had set none. +For there was no conceivable reason why she should hesitate to admit +that she had seen Mrs. Harlowe in the presence of the nurse, and +wished her good night before she went to the party. But he had set a +real trap a minute afterwards and into that Betty had straightway +stumbled. He had tricked her into admitting a dread that Mrs. +Harlowe might have spoken of her in disparagement or even in horror +after she had left the bedroom. + +"You must know, Monsieur Hanaud," she explained very coldly, "that +women are not always very generous to one another, and sometimes have +not the imagination--how shall I put it?--to visualise the possible +consequences of things they may say with merely the intention to hurt +and do a little harm. Jeanne Baudin and I were, so far as I ever +knew, good friends, but one is never sure, and when you folded up her +statement in a hurry I was naturally very anxious to hear the rest of +it." + +"Yes, I agree," Jim intervened. "It did look as if the nurse might +have added something malevolent, which could neither be proved nor +disproved." + +"It was a misunderstanding, Mademoiselle," Hanaud replied in a voice +of apology. "We will take care that there shall not be any other." +He looked over the nurse's statement again. + +"It is said here that you saw that Madame had her favourite books and +her drink beside the bed. That is true." + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"What was that drink?" + +"A glass of lemonade." + +"It was placed on a table, I suppose, ready for her every night?" + +"Every night." + +"And there was no narcotic dissolved in it?" + +"None," Betty replied. "If Mrs. Harlowe was restless, the nurse +would give an opium pill and very occasionally a slight injection of +morphia." + +"But that was not done on this night?" + +"Not to my knowledge. If it was done, it was done after my +departure." + +"Very well," said Hanaud, and he folded the paper and put it away in +his pocket. "That is finished with. We have you now out of the +house at five minutes to nine in the evening, and Madame in her bed +with her health no worse than usual." + +"Yes." + +"Good!" Hanaud changed his attitude. "Now let us go over your +evening, Mademoiselle! I take it that you stayed at the house of M. +de Pouillac until you returned home." + +"Yes." + +"You remember with whom you danced? If it was necessary, could you +give me a list of your partners?" + +She rose and, crossing to the writing table, sat down in front of it. +She drew a sheet of paper towards her and took up a pencil. Pausing +now and again to jog her memory with the blunt end of the pencil at +her lips, she wrote down a list of names. + +"These are all, I think," she said, handing the list to Hanaud. He +put it in his pocket. + +"Thank you!" He was all contentment now. Although his questions +followed without hesitation, one upon the other, it seemed to Jim +that he was receiving just the answers which he expected. He had the +air of a man engaged upon an inevitable formality and anxious to get +it completely accomplished, rather than of one pressing keenly a +strict investigation. + +"Now, Mademoiselle, at what hour did you arrive home?" + +"At twenty minutes past one." + +"You are sure of that exact time? You looked at your watch? Or at +the clock in the hall? Or what? How are you sure that you reached +the Maison Crenelle exactly at twenty minutes past one?" + +Hanaud hitched his chair a little more forward, but he had not to +wait a second for the answer. + +"There is no clock in the hall and I had no watch with me," Betty +replied. "I don't like those wrist-watches which some girls wear. I +hate things round my wrists," and she shook her arm impatiently, as +though she imagined the constriction of a bracelet. "And I did not +put my watch in my hand-bag because I am so liable to leave that +behind. So I had nothing to tell me the time when I reached home. I +was not sure that I had not kept Georges--the chauffeur--out a little +later than he cared for. So I made him my excuse, explaining that I +didn't really know how late I was." + +"I see. It was Georges who told you the time at the actual moment of +your arrival?" + +"Yes." + +"And Georges is no doubt the chauffeur whom I saw at work as I +crossed the courtyard?" + +"Yes. He told me that he was glad to see me have a little gaiety, +and he took out his watch and showed it to me with a laugh." + +"This happened at the front door, or at those big iron gates, +Mademoiselle?" Hanaud asked. + +"At the front door. There is no lodge-keeper and the gates are left +open when any one is out." + +"And how did you get into the house?" + +"I used my latch-key." + +"Good! All this is very clear." + +Betty, however, was not mollified by Hanaud's satisfaction with her +replies. Although she answered him without delay, her answers were +given mutinously. Jim began to be a little troubled. She should +have met Hanaud half-way; she was imprudently petulant. + +"She'll make an enemy of this man before she has done," he reflected +uneasily. But he glanced at the detective and was relieved. For +Hanaud was watching her with a smile which would have disarmed any +less offended young lady--a smile half friendliness and half +amusement. Jim took a turn upon himself. + +"After all," he argued, "this very imprudence pleads for her better +than any calculation. The guilty don't behave like that." And he +waited for the next stage in the examination with an easy mind. + +"Now we have got you back home and within the Maison Crenelle before +half past one in the morning," resumed Hanaud. "What did you do +then?" + +"I went straight upstairs to my bedroom," said Betty. + +"Was your maid waiting up for you, Mademoiselle?" + +"No; I had told her that I should be late and that I could undress +myself." + +"You are considerate, Mademoiselle. No wonder that your servants +were pleased that you should have a little gaiety." + +Even that advance did not appease the offended girl. + +"Yes?" she asked with a sort of silky sweetness which was more +hostile than any acid rejoinder. But it did not stir Hanaud to any +resentment. + +"When, then, did you first hear of Madame Harlowe's death?" was asked. + +"The next morning my maid Francine came running into my room at seven +o'clock. The nurse Jeanne had just discovered it. I slipped on my +dressing-gown and ran downstairs. As soon as I saw that it was true, +I rang up the two doctors who were in the habit of attending here." + +"Did you notice the glass of lemonade?" + +"Yes. It was empty." + +"Your maid is still with you?" + +"Yes--Francine Rollard. She is at your disposal." + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders and smiled doubtfully. + +"That, if it is necessary at all, can come later. We have the story +of your movements now from you, Mademoiselle, and that is what is +important." + +He rose from his chair. + +"I have been, I am afraid, a very troublesome person, Mademoiselle +Harlowe," he said with a bow. "But it is very necessary for your own +sake that no obscurities should be left for the world's suspicions to +play with. And we are very close to the end of this ordeal." + +Jim had nursed a hope the moment Hanaud rose that this wearing +interview had already ended. Betty, for her part, was indifferent. + +"That is for you to say, Monsieur," she said implacably. + +"Just two points then, and I think, upon reflection, you will +understand that I have asked you no question which is unfair." + +Betty bowed. + +"Your two points, Monsieur." + +"First, then. You inherit, I believe, the whole fortune of Madame?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you expect to inherit it all? Did you know of her will?" + +"No. I expected that a good deal of the money would be left to +Monsieur Boris. But I don't remember that she ever told me so. I +expected it, because Monsieur Boris so continually repeated that it +was so." + +"No doubt," said Hanaud lightly. "As to yourself, was Madame +generous to you during her life." + +The hard look disappeared from Betty's face. It softened to sorrow +and regret. + +"Very," she answered in a low voice. "I had one thousand pounds a +year as a regular allowance, and a thousand pounds goes a long way in +Dijon. Besides, if I wanted more, I had only to ask for it." + +Betty's voice broke in a sob suddenly and Hanaud turned away with a +delicacy for which Jim was not prepared. He began to look at the +books upon the shelves, that she might have time to control her +sorrow, taking down one here, one there, and speaking of them in a +casual tone. + +"It is easy to see that this was the library of Monsieur Simon +Harlowe," he said, and was suddenly brought to a stop. For the door +was thrown open and a girl broke into the room. + +"Betty," she began, and stood staring from one to another of Betty's +visitors. + +"Ann, this is Monsieur Hanaud," said Betty with a careless wave of +her hand, and Ann went white as a sheet. + +Ann! Then this girl was Ann Upcott, thought Jim Frobisher, the girl +who had written to him, the girl, all acquaintanceship with whom he +had twice denied, and he had sat side by side with her, he had even +spoken to her. She swept across the room to him. + +"So you have come!" she cried. "But I knew that you would!" + +Jim was conscious of a mist of shining yellow hair, a pair of +sapphire eyes, and of a face impertinently lovely and most delicate +in its colour. + +"Of course I have come," he said feebly, and Hanaud looked on with a +smile. He had an eye on Betty Harlowe, and the smile said as clearly +as words could say, "That young man is going to have a deal of +trouble before he gets out of Dijon." + + + + +CHAPTER SIX: _Jim Changes His Lodging_ + +The library was a big oblong room with two tall windows looking into +the court, and the observation window thrown out at the end over the +footway of the street. A door in the inner wall close to this window +led to a room behind, and a big open fire-place faced the windows on +the court. For the rest, the walls were lined with high book-shelves +filled with books, except for a vacant space here and there where a +volume had been removed. Hanaud put back in its place the book which +he had been holding in his hand. + +"One can easily see that this is the library of Simon Harlowe, the +collector," he said. "I have always thought that if one only had the +time to study and compare the books which a man buys and reads, one +would more surely get the truth of him than in any other way. But +alas! one never has the time." He turned towards Jim Frobisher +regretfully. "Come and stand with me, Monsieur Frobisher. For even +a glance at the backs of them tells one something." + +Jim took his place by Hanaud's side. + +"Look, here is a book on Old English Gold Plate, and +another--pronounce that title for me, if you please." + +Jim read the title of the book on which Hanaud's finger was placed. + +"Marks and Monograms on Pottery and Porcelain." + +Hanaud repeated the inscription and moved along. From a shelf at the +level of his breast and just to the left of the window in which Betty +was sitting, he took a large, thinnish volume in a paper cover, and +turned over the plates. It was a brochure upon Battersea Enamel. + +"There should be a second volume," said Jim Frobisher with a glance +at the bookshelf. It was the idlest of remarks. He was not paying +any attention to the paper-covered book upon Battersea Enamel. For +he was really engaged in speculating why Hanaud had called him to his +side. Was it on the chance that he might detect some swift look of +understanding as it was exchanged by the two girls, some sign that +they were in a collusion? If so, he was to be disappointed. For +though Betty and Ann were now free from Hanaud's vigilant eye, +neither of them moved, neither of them signalled to the other. +Hanaud, however, seemed entirely interested in his book. He answered +Jim's suggestion. + +"Yes, one would suppose that there were a second volume. But this is +complete," he said, and he put back the book in its place. There was +room next to it for another quarto book, so long as it was no +thicker, and Hanaud rested his finger in the vacant place on the +shelf, with his thoughts clearly far away. + +Betty recalled him to his surroundings. + +"Monsieur Hanaud," she said in her quiet voice from her seat in the +window, "there was a second point, you said, on which you would like +to ask me a question." + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, I had not forgotten it." + +He turned with a curiously swift movement and stood so that he had +both girls in front of him, Betty on his left in the window, Ann +Upcott standing a little apart upon his right, gazing at him with a +look of awe. + +"Have you, Mademoiselle," he asked, "been pestered, since Boris +Waberski brought his accusation, with any of these anonymous letters +which seem to be flying about Dijon?" + +"I have received one," answered Betty, and Ann Upcott raised her +eyebrows in surprise. "It came on Sunday morning. It was very +slanderous, of course, and I should have taken no notice of it but +for one thing. It told me that you, Monsieur Hanaud, were coming +from Paris to take up the case." + +"Oho!" said Hanaud softly. "And you received this letter on the +Sunday morning? Can you show it to me, Mademoiselle?" + +Betty shook her head. + +"No, Monsieur." + +Hanaud smiled. + +"Of course not. You destroyed it, as such letter should be +destroyed." + +"No, I didn't," Betty answered. "I kept it. I put it away in a +drawer of my writing-table in my own sitting-room. But that room is +sealed up, Monsieur Hanaud. The letter is in the drawer still." + +Hanaud received the statement with a frank satisfaction. + +"It cannot run away, then, Mademoiselle," he said contentedly. But +the contentment passed. "So the Commissaire of Police actually +sealed up your private sitting-room. That, to be sure, was going a +little far." + +Betty shrugged her shoulders. + +"It was mine, you see, where I keep my private things. And after all +I was accused!" she said bitterly; but Ann Upcott was not satisfied +to leave the matter there. She drew a step nearer to Betty and then +looked at Hanaud. + +"But that is not all the truth," she said. "Betty's room belongs to +that suite of rooms in which Madame Harlowe's bedroom was arranged. +It is the last room of the suite opening on to the hall, and for that +reason, as the Commissaire said with an apology, it was necessary to +seal it up with the others." + +"I thank you, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud with a smile. "Yes, that of +course softens his action." He looked whimsically at Betty in the +window-seat. "It has been my misfortune, I am afraid, to offend +Mademoiselle Harlowe. Will you help me to get all these troublesome +dates now clear? Madame Harlowe was buried, I understand, on the +Saturday morning twelve days ago!" + +"Yes, Monsieur," said Ann Upcott. + +"And after the funeral, on your return to this house, the notary +opened and read the will?" + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"And in Boris Waberski's presence?" + +"Yes." + +"Then exactly a week later, on Saturday, the seventh of May, he goes +off quickly to the Prefecture of Police?" + +"Yes." + +"And on Sunday morning by the post comes the anonymous letter?" + +Hanaud turned away to Betty, who bowed her head in answer. + +"And a little later on the same morning comes the Commissaire, who +seals the doors." + +"At eleven o'clock, to be exact," replied Ann Upcott. + +Hanaud bowed low. + +"You are both wonderful young ladies. You notice the precise hour at +which things happen. It is a rare gift, and very useful to people +like myself." + +Ann Upcott had been growing easier and easier in her manner with each +answer that she gave. Now she could laugh outright. + +"I do, at all events, Monsieur Hanaud," she said. "But alas! I was +born to be an old maid. A chair out of place, a book disarranged, a +clock not keeping time, or even a pin on the carpet--I cannot bear +these things. I notice them at once and I must put them straight. +Yes, it was precisely eleven o'clock when the Commissaire of Police +rang the bell." + +"Did he search the rooms before he sealed them?" Hanaud asked. + +"No. We both of us thought his negligence strange," Ann replied, +"until he informed us that the Examining Magistrate wanted everything +left just as it was." + +Hanaud laughed genially. + +"That was on my account," he explained. "Who could tell what +wonderful things Hanaud might not discover with his magnifying glass +when he arrived from Paris? What fatal fingerprints! Oh! Ho! ho! +What scraps of burnt letter! Ah! Ha! ha! But I tell you, +Mademoiselle, that if a crime has been committed in this house, even +Hanaud would not expect to make any startling discoveries in rooms +which had been open to the whole household for a fortnight since the +crime. However," and he moved towards the door, "since I am here +now----" + +Betty was upon her feet like a flash of lightning. Hanaud stopped +and swung round upon her, swiftly, with his eyes very challenging and +hard. + +"You are going to break those seals now?" she asked with a curious +breathlessness. "Then may I come with you--please, please! It is I +who am accused. I have a right to be present," and her voice rose +into an earnest cry. + +"Calm yourself, Mademoiselle," Hanaud returned gently. "No advantage +will be taken of you. I am going to break no seals. That, as I have +told you, is the right of the Commissaire, who is a magistrate, and +he will not move until the medical analysis is ready. No, what I was +going to propose was that Mademoiselle here," and he pointed to Ann, +"should show me the outside of those reception-rooms and the rest of +the house." + +"Of course," said Betty, and she sat down again in the window-seat. + +"Thank you," said Hanaud. He turned back to Ann Upcott. "Shall we +go? And as we go, will you tell me what you think of Boris Waberski?" + +"He has some nerve. I can tell you that, Monsieur Hanaud," Ann +cried. "He actually came back to this house after he had lodged his +charge, and asked me to support him"; and she passed out of the room +in front of Hanaud. + +Jim Frobisher followed the couple to the door and closed it behind +them. The last few minutes had set his mind altogether at rest. The +author of the anonymous letters was the detective's real quarry. His +manner had quite changed when putting his questions about them. The +flamboyancies and the indifference, even his amusement at Betty's +ill-humour had quite disappeared. He had got to business watchfully, +quietly. Jim came back into the room. He took his cigarette-case +from his pocket and opened it. + +"May I smoke?" he asked. As he turned to Betty for permission, a +fresh shock brought his thoughts and words alike to a standstill. +She was staring at him with panic naked in her eyes and her face set +like a tragic mask. + +"He believes me guilty," she whispered. + +"No," said Jim, and he went to her side. But she would not listen. + +"He does. I am sure of it. Don't you see that he was bound to? He +was sent from Paris. He has his reputation to think of. He must +have his victim before he returns." + +Jim was sorely tempted to break his word. He had only to tell the +real cause which had fetched Hanaud out of Paris and Betty's distress +was gone. But he could not. Every tradition of his life strove to +keep him silent. He dared not even tell her that this charge against +her was only an excuse. She must live in anxiety for a little while +longer. He laid his hand gently upon her shoulder. + +"Betty, don't believe that!" he said, with a consciousness of how +weak that phrase was compared with the statement he could have made. +"I was watching Hanaud, listening to him. I am sure that he already +knew the answers to the questions he was asking you. Why, he even +knew that Simon Harlowe had a passion for collecting, though not a +word had been said of it. He was asking questions to see how you +would answer them, setting now and then a little trap, as he +admitted----" + +"Yes," said Betty in trembling voice, "all the time he was setting +traps." + +"And every answer that you gave, even your manner in giving them," +Jim continued stoutly, "more and more made clear your innocence." + +"To him?" asked Betty. + +"Yes, to him. I am sure of it." + +Betty Harlowe caught at his arm and held it in both her hands. She +leaned her head against it. Through the sleeve of his coat he felt +the velvet of her cheek. + +"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Jim," and as she pronounced +the name she smiled. She was thanking him not so much for the stout +confidence of his words, as for the comfort which the touch of him +gave to her. + +"Very likely I am making too much of little things," she went on. +"Very likely I am ungenerous, too, to Monsieur Hanaud. But he lives +amidst crimes and criminals. He must be so used to seeing people +condemned and passing out of sight into blackness and horrors, that +one more or less, whether innocent or guilty, going that way, +wouldn't seem to matter very much." + +"Yes, Betty, I think that is a little unjust," Jim Frobisher remarked +gently. + +"Very well, I take it back," she said, and she let his arm go. "All +the same, Jim, I am looking to you, not to him," and she laughed with +an appealing tremor in the laugh which took his heart by storm. + +"Luckily," said he, "you don't have to look to any one," and he had +hardly finished the sentence before Ann Upcott came back alone into +the room. She was about Betty's height and Betty's age and had the +same sort of boyish slenderness and carriage which marks the girls of +this generation. But in other respects, even to the colour of her +clothes, she was as dissimilar as one girl can be from another. She +was dressed in white from her coat to her shoes, and she wore a big +gold hat so that one was almost at a loss to know where her hat ended +and her hair began. + +"And Monsieur Hanaud?" Betty asked. + +"He is prowling about by himself," she replied. "I showed him all +the rooms and who used them, and he said that he would have a look at +them and sent me back to you." + +"Did he break the seals on the reception-rooms?" Betty Harlowe asked. + +"Oh, no," said Ann. "Why, he told us that he couldn't do that +without the Commissaire." + +"Yes, he told us that," Betty remarked dryly. "But I was wondering +whether he meant what he told us." + +"Oh, I don't think Monsieur Hanaud's alarming," said Ann. She gave +Jim Frobisher the impression that at any moment she might call him a +dear old thing. She had quite got over the first little shock which +the announcement of his presence had caused her. "Besides," and she +sat down by the side of Betty in the window-seat and looked with the +frankest confidence at Jim--"besides, we can feel safe now, anyway." + +Jim Frobisher threw up his hands in despair. That queer look of +aloofness had played him false with Ann Upcott now, as it had already +done with Betty. If these two girls had called on him for help when +a sudden squall found them in an open sailing-boat with the sheet of +the sail made fast, or on the ice-slope of a mountain, or with a +rhinoceros lumbering towards them out of some forest of the Nile, he +would not have shrunk from their trust. But this was quite a +different matter. They were calmly pitting him against Hanaud. + +"You were safe before," he exclaimed. "Hanaud is not your enemy, and +as for me, I have neither experience nor natural gifts for this sort +of work"--and he broke off with a groan. For both the girls were +watching him with a smile of complete disbelief. + +"Good heavens, they think that I am being astute," he reflected, "and +the more I confess my incapacity the astuter they'll take me to be." +He gave up all arguments. "Of course I am absolutely at your +service," he said. + +"Thank you," said Betty. "You will bring your luggage from your +hotel and stay here, won't you?" + +Jim was tempted to accept that invitation. But, on the one hand, he +might wish to see Hanaud at the Grande Taverne; or Hanaud might wish +to see him, and secrecy was to be the condition of such meetings. It +was better that he should keep his freedom of movement complete. + +"I won't put you to so much trouble, Betty," he replied. "There's no +reason in the world that I should. A call over the telephone and in +five minutes I am at your side." + +Betty Harlowe seemed in doubt to press her invitation or not. + +"It looks a little inhospitable in me," she began, and the door +opened, and Hanaud entered the room. + +"I left my hat and stick here," he said. He picked them up and bowed +to the girls. + +"You have seen everything, Monsieur Hanaud?" Betty asked. + +"Everything, Mademoiselle. I shall not trouble you again until the +report of the analysis is in my hands. I wish you a good morning." + +Betty slipped off the window-seat and accompanied him out into the +hall. It appeared to Jim Frobisher that she was seeking to make some +amends for her ill-humour; and when he heard her voice he thought to +detect in it some note of apology. + +"I shall be very glad if you will let me know the sense of that +report as soon as possible," she pleaded. "You, better than any one, +will understand that this is a difficult hour for me." + +"I understand very well, Mademoiselle," Hanaud answered gravely. "I +will see to it that the hour is not prolonged." + +Jim, watching them through the doorway, as they stood together in the +sunlit hall, felt ever so slight a touch upon his arm. He wheeled +about quickly. Ann Upcott was at his side with all the liveliness +and even the delicate colour gone from her face, and a wild and +desperate appeal in her eyes. + +"You will come and stay here? Oh, please!" she whispered. + +"I have just refused," he answered. "You heard me." + +"I know," she went on, the words stumbling over one another from her +lips. "But take back your refusal. Do! Oh, I am frightened out of +my wits. I don't understand anything. I am terrified!" And she +clasped her hands together in supplication. Jim had never seen fear +so stark, no, not even in Betty's eyes a few minutes ago. It robbed +her exquisite face of all its beauty, and made it in a second, +haggard and old. But before he could answer, a stick clattered +loudly upon the pavement of the hall and startled them both like the +crack of a pistol. + +Jim looked through the doorway. Hanaud was stooping to pick up his +cane. Betty made a dive for it, but Hanaud already had it in his +hands. + +"I thank you, Mademoiselle, but I can still touch my toes. Every +morning I do it five times in my pyjamas," and with a laugh he ran +down the couple of steps into the courtyard and with that curiously +quick saunter of his was out into the street of Charles-Robert in a +moment. When Jim turned again to Ann Upcott, the fear had gone from +her face so completely that he could hardly believe his eyes. + +"Betty, he is going to stay," she cried gaily. + +"So I inferred," replied Betty with a curious smile as she came back +into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN: _Exit Waberski_ + +Jim Frobisher neither saw nor heard any more of Hanaud that day. He +fetched his luggage away from the hotel and spent the evening with +Betty Harlowe and Ann Upcott at the Maison Crenelle. They took their +coffee after dinner in the garden behind the house, descending to it +by a short flight of stone steps from a great door at the back of the +hall. And by some sort of unspoken compact they avoided all mention +of Waberski's charge. They had nothing to do but to wait now for the +analyst's report. But the long line of high, shuttered windows just +above their heads, the windows of the reception-rooms, forbade them +to forget the subject, and their conversation perpetually dwindled +down into long silences. It was cool out here in the dark garden, +cool and very still; so that the bustle of a bird amongst the leaves +of the sycamores startled them and the rare footsteps of a passer-by +in the little street of Charles-Robert rang out as though they would +wake a dreaming city. Jim noticed that once or twice Ann Upcott +leaned swiftly forward and stared across the dark lawns and +glimmering paths to the great screen of tall trees, as if her eyes +had detected a movement amongst their stems. But on each occasion +she said nothing and with an almost inaudible sigh sank back in her +chair. + +"Is there a door into the garden from the street?" Frobisher asked, +and Betty answered him. + +"No. There is a passage at the end of the house under the +reception-rooms from the courtyard which the gardeners use. The only +other entrance is through the hall behind us. This old house was +built in days when your house really was your castle and the fewer +the entrances, the more safely you slept." + +The clocks of that city of Clocks clashed out the hour of eleven, +throwing the sounds of their strokes backwards and forwards above the +pinnacles and roof-tops in a sort of rivalry. Betty rose to her feet. + +"There's a day gone, at all events," she said, and Ann Upcott agreed +with a breath of relief. To Jim it seemed a pitiful thing that these +two girls, to whom each day should be a succession of sparkling hours +all too short, must be rejoicing quietly, almost gratefully, that +another of them had passed. + +"It should be the last of the bad days," he said, and Betty turned +swiftly towards him, her great eyes shining in the darkness. + +"Good night, Jim," she said, her voice ever so slightly lingering +like a caress upon his name and she held out her hand. "It's +terribly dull for you, but we are not unselfish enough to let you go. +You see, we are shunned just now--oh, it's natural! To have you with +us means a great deal. For one thing," and there came a little lilt +in her voice, "I shall sleep to-night." She ran up the steps and +stood for a moment against the light from the hall. "A long-legged +slip of a girl, in black silk stockings"--thus Mr. Haslitt had spoken +of her as she was five years ago, and the description fitted her +still. + +"Good night, Betty," said Jim, and Ann Upcott ran past him up the +steps and waved her hand. + +"Good night," said Jim, and with a little twist of her shoulders Ann +followed Betty. She came back, however. She was wearing a little +white frock of _crêpe de Chine_ with white stockings and satin shoes, +and she gleamed at the head of the steps like a slender thing of +silver. + +"You'll bolt the door when you come in, won't you?" She pleaded with +a curious anxiety considering the height of the strong walls about +the garden. + +"I will," said Jim, and he wondered why in all this business Ann +Upcott stood out as a note of fear. It was high time indeed, that +the long line of windows was thrown open and the interdict raised +from the house and its inmates. Jim Frobisher paced the quiet garden +in the darkness with a prayer at his heart that that time would come +to-morrow. In Betty's room above the reception-rooms the light was +still burning behind the latticed shutters of the windows, in spite +of her confidence that she would sleep--yes, and in Ann Upcott's room +too, at the end of the house towards the street. A fury against +Boris Waberski flamed up in him. + +It was late before he himself went into the house and barred the +door, later still before he fell asleep. But once asleep, he slept +soundly, and when he waked, it was to find his shutters thrown wide +to the sunlight, his coffee cold by his bedside, and Gaston, the old +servant, in the room. + +"Monsieur Hanaud asked me to tell you he was in the library," he said. + +Jim was out of bed in an instant. + +"Already? What is the time, Gaston?" + +"Nine o'clock. I have prepared Monsieur's bath." He removed the +tray from the table by the bed. "I will bring some fresh coffee." + +"Thank you! And will you please tell Monsieur Hanaud that I will not +be long." + +"Certainly, Monsieur." + +Jim took his coffee while he dressed and hurried down to the library, +where he found Hanaud seated at the big writing-table in the middle +of the room, with a newspaper spread out over the blotting-pad and +placidly reading the news. He spoke quickly enough, however, the +moment Jim appeared. + +"So you left your hotel in the Place Darcy, after all, eh, my friend? +The exquisite Miss Upcott! She had but to sigh out a little prayer +and clasp her hands together, and it was done. Yes, I saw it all +from the hall. What it is to be young! You have those two letters +which Waberski wrote your firm?" + +"Yes," said Jim. He did not think it necessary to explain that +though the prayer was Ann Upcott's, it was the thought of Betty which +had brought him to the Maison Grenelle. + +"Good! I have sent for him," said Hanaud. + +"To come to this house?" + +"I am expecting him now." + +"That's capital," cried Jim. "I shall meet him, then! The damned +rogue! I shouldn't wonder if I thumped him," and he clenched his +fist and shook it in a joyous anticipation. + +"I doubt if that would be so helpful as you think. No, I beg of you +to place yourself in my hands this morning, Monsieur Frobisher," +Hanaud interposed soberly. "If you confront Waberski at once with +those two letters, at once his accusation breaks down. He will +withdraw it. He will excuse himself. He will burst into a torrent +of complaints and reproaches. And I shall get nothing out of him. +That I do not want." + +"But what is there to be got?" Jim asked impatiently. + +"Something perhaps. Perhaps nothing," the detective returned with a +shrug of the shoulders. "I have a second mission in Dijon, as I told +you in Paris." + +"The anonymous letters?" + +"Yes. You were present yesterday when Mademoiselle Harlowe told me +how she learned that I was summoned from Paris upon this case. It +was not, after all, any of my colleagues here who spread the news. +It is even now unknown that I am here. No, it was the writer of the +letters. And in so difficult a matter I can afford to neglect no +clue. Did Waberski know that I was going to be sent for? Did he +hear that at the Prefecture when he lodged his charge on the Saturday +or from the examining magistrate on the same day? And if he did, to +whom did he talk between the time when he saw the magistrate and the +time when letters must be posted if they are to be delivered on the +Sunday morning? These are questions I must have the answer to, and +if we at once administer the knock-out with your letters, I shall not +get them. I must lead him on with friendliness. You see that." + +Jim very reluctantly did. He had longed to see Hanaud dealing with +Waberski in the most outrageous of his moods, pouncing and tearing +and trampling with the gibes of a schoolboy and the improprieties of +the gutter. Hanaud indeed had promised him as much. But he found +him now all for restraint and sobriety and more concerned apparently +with the authorship of the anonymous letters than with the righting +of Betty Harlowe. Jim felt that he had been defrauded. + +"But I am to meet this man," he said. "That must not be forgotten." + +"And it shall not be," Hanaud assured him. He led him over to the +door in the inner wall close to the observation window and opened it. + +"See! If you will please to wait in here," and as the disappointment +deepened on Jim's face, he added, "Oh, I do not ask you to shut the +door. No. Bring up a chair to it--so! And keep the door ajar so! +Then you will see and hear and yet not be seen. You are content? +Not very. You would prefer to be on the stage the whole time like an +actor. Yes, we all do. But, at all events, you do not throw up your +part," and with a friendly grin he turned back to the table. + +A shuffling step which merged into the next step with a curiously +slovenly sound rose from the courtyard. + +"It was time we made our little arrangements," said Hanaud in an +undertone. "For here comes our hero from the Steppes." + +Jim popped his head through the doorway. + +"Monsieur Hanaud!" he whispered excitedly. "Monsieur Hanaud! It +cannot be wise to leave those windows open on the courtyard. For if +we can hear a footstep so loudly in this room, anything said in this +room will be easily overheard in the court." + +"But how true that is!" Hanaud replied in the same voice and struck +his forehead with his fist in anger at his folly. "But what are we +to do? The day is so hot. This room will be an oven. The ladies +and Waberski will all faint. Besides, I have an officer in plain +clothes already stationed in the court to see that it is kept empty. +Yes, we will risk it." + +Jim drew back. + +"That man doesn't welcome advice from any one," he said indignantly, +but he said it only to himself; and almost before he had finished, +the bell rang. A few seconds afterwards Gaston entered. + +"Monsieur Boris," he said. + +"Yes," said Hanaud with a nod. "And will you tell the ladies that we +are ready?" + +Boris Waberski, a long, round-shouldered man with bent knees and +clumsy feet, dressed in black and holding a soft black felt hat in +his hand, shambled quickly into the room and stopped dead at the +sight of Hanaud. Hanaud bowed and Waberski returned the bow; and +then the two men stood looking at one another--Hanaud all geniality +and smiles, Waberski a rather grotesque figure of uneasiness like one +of those many grim caricatures carved by the imagination of the +Middle Ages on the columns of the churches of Dijon. He blinked in +perplexity at the detective and with his long, tobacco-stained +fingers tortured his grey moustache. + +"Will you be seated?" said Hanaud politely. "I think that the ladies +will not keep us waiting." + +He pointed towards a chair in front of the writing-table but on his +left hand and opposite to the door. + +"I don't understand," said Waberski doubtfully. "I received a +message. I understood that the Examining Magistrate had sent for me." + +"I am his agent," said Hanaud. "I am----" and he stopped. "Yes?" + +Boris Waberski stared. + +"I said nothing." + +"I beg your pardon. I am--Hanaud." + +He shot the name out quickly, but he was answered by no start, nor by +any sign of recognition. + +"Hanaud?" Waberski shook his head. "That no doubt should be +sufficient to enlighten me," he said with a smile, "but it is better +to be frank--it doesn't." + +"Hanaud of the Sûrété of Paris." + +And upon Waberski's face there came slowly a look of utter +consternation. + +"Oh!" he said, and again "Oh!" with a lamentable look towards the +door as if he was in two minds whether to make a bolt of it. Hanaud +pointed again to the chair, and Waberski murmured, "Yes--to be sure," +and made a little run to it and sank down. + +Jim Frobisher, watching from his secret place, was certain of one +thing. Boris Waberski had not written the anonymous letter to Betty +nor had he contributed the information about Hanaud to the writer. +He might well have been thought to have been acting ignorance of +Hanaud's name, up to the moment when Hanaud explained who Hanaud was. +But no longer. His consternation then was too genuine. + +"You will understand, of course, that an accusation so serious as the +one you have brought against Mademoiselle Harlowe demands the closest +inquiry," Hanaud continued without any trace of irony, "and the +Examining Magistrate in charge of the case honoured us in Paris with +a request for help." + +"Yes, it is very difficult," replied Boris Waberski, twisting about +as if he was a martyr on red-hot plates. + +But the difficulty was Waberski's, as Jim, with that distressed man +in full view, was now able to appreciate. Waberski had rushed to the +Prefecture when no answer came from Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt to +his letter of threats, and had brought his charge in a spirit of +disappointment and rancour, with a hope no doubt that some offer of +cash would be made to him and that he could withdraw it. Now he +found the trained detective service of France upon his heels, asking +for his proofs and evidence. This was more than he had bargained for. + +"I thought," Hanaud continued easily, "that a little informal +conversation between you and me and the two young ladies, without +shorthand writers or secretaries, might be helpful." + +"Yes, indeed," said Waberski hopefully. + +"As a preliminary of course," Hanaud added dryly, "a preliminary to +the more serious and now inevitable procedure." + +Waberski's gleam of hopefulness was extinguished. + +"To be sure," he murmured, plucking at his lean throat nervously. +"Cases must proceed." + +"That is what they are there for," said Hanaud sententiously; and the +door of the library was pushed open. Betty came into the room with +Ann Upcott immediately behind her. + +"You sent for me," she began to Hanaud, and then she saw Boris +Waberski. Her little head went up with a jerk, her eyes smouldered. +"Monsieur Boris," she said, and again she spoke to Hanaud. "Come to +take possession, I suppose?" Then she looked round the room for Jim +Frobisher, and exclaimed in a sudden dismay: + +"But I understood that----" and Hanaud was just in time to stop her +from mentioning any name. + +"All in good time, Mademoiselle," he said quickly. "Let us take +things in their order." + +Betty took her old place in the window-seat. Ann Upcott shut the +door and sat down in a chair a little apart from the others. Hanaud +folded up his newspaper and laid it aside. On the big blotting-pad +which was now revealed lay one of those green files which Jim +Frobisher had noticed in the office of the Sûrété. Hanaud opened it +and took up the top paper. He turned briskly to Waberski. + +"Monsieur, you state that on the night of the 27th of April, this +girl here, Betty Harlowe, did wilfully give to her adoptive mother +and benefactress, Jeanne-Marie Harlowe, an overdose of a narcotic by +which her death was brought about." + +"Yes," said Waberski with an air of boldness, "I declare that." + +"You do not specify the narcotic?" + +"It was probably morphine, but I cannot be sure." + +"And administered, according to you, if this summary which I hold +here is correct, in the glass of lemonade which Madame Harlowe had +always at her bedside." + +"Yes." + +Hanaud laid the sheet of foolscap down again. + +"You do not charge the nurse, Jeanne Baudin, with complicity in this +crime?" he asked. + +"Oh, no!" Waberski exclaimed with a sort of horror, with his eyes +open wide and his eyebrows running up his forehead towards his hedge +of wiry hair. "I have not a suspicion of Jeanne Baudin. I pray you, +Monsieur Hanaud, to be clear upon that point. There must be no +injustice! No! Oh, it is well that I came here to-day! Jeanne +Baudin! Listen! I would engage her to nurse me to-morrow, were my +health to fail." + +"One cannot say more than that," replied Hanaud with a grave +sympathy. "I only asked you the question because undoubtedly Jeanne +Baudin was in Madame's bedroom when Mademoiselle entered it to wish +Madame good night and show off her new dancing-frock." + +"Yes, I understand," said Waberski. He was growing more and more +confident, so suave and friendly was this Monsieur Hanaud of the +Sûrété. "But the fatal drug was slipped into that glass without a +doubt when Jeanne Baudin was not looking. I do not accuse her. No! +It is that hard one," and his voice began to shake and his mouth to +work, "who slipped it in and then hurried off to dance till morning, +whilst her victim died. It is terrible that! Yes, Monsieur Hanaud, +it is terrible. My poor sister!" + +"Sister-in-law." + +The correction came with an acid calm from an armchair near the door +in which Ann Upcott was reclining. + +"Sister to me!" replied Waberski mournfully and he turned to Hanaud. +"Monsieur, I shall never cease to reproach myself. I was away +fishing in the forest. If I had stayed at home! Think of it! I ask +you to----" and his voice broke. + +"Yes, but you did come back, Monsieur Waberski," Hanaud said, "and +this is where I am perplexed. You loved your sister. That is clear, +since you cannot even think of her without tears." + +"Yes, yes," Waberski shaded his eyes with his hand. + +"Then why did you, loving her so dearly, wait for so long before you +took any action to avenge her death? There will be some good reason +not a doubt, but I have not got it." Hanaud continued, spreading out +his hands. "Listen to the dates. Your dear sister dies on the night +of the 27th of April. You return home on the 28th; and you do +nothing, you bring no charge, you sit all quiet. She is buried on +the 30th, and after that you still do nothing, you sit all quiet. It +is not until one week after that you launch your accusation against +Mademoiselle. Why? I beg you, Monsieur Waberski, not to look at me +between the fingers, for the answer is not written on my face, and to +explain this difficulty to me." + +The request was made in the same pleasant, friendly voice which +Hanaud had used so far and without any change of intonation. But +Waberski snatched his hand away from his forehead and sat up with a +flush on his face. + +"I answer you at once," he exclaimed. "From the first I knew it +here," and he thumped his heart with his fist, "that murder had been +committed. But as yet I did not know it here," and he patted his +forehead, "in my head. So I think and I think and I think. I see +reasons and motives. They build themselves up. A young girl of +beauty and style, but of a strange and secret character, thirsting in +her heart for colour and laughter and enjoyment and the power which +her beauty offers her if she will but grasp it, and yet while +thirsting, very able to conceal all sign of thirst. That is the +picture I give you of that hard one, Betty Harlowe." + +For the first time since the interview had commenced, Betty herself +showed some interest in it. Up till now she had sat without a +movement, a figure of disdain in an ice-house of pride. Now she +flashed into life. She leaned forward, her elbow on her crossed +knee, her chin propped in her hand, her eyes on Waberski, and a smile +of amusement at this analysis of herself giving life to her face. +Jim Frobisher, on the other hand, behind his door felt that he was +listening to blasphemies. Why did Hanaud endure it? There was +information, he had said, which he wanted to get from Boris Waberski. +The point on which he wanted information was settled long ago, at the +very beginning of this informal session. It was as clear as daylight +that Waberski had nothing to do with Betty's anonymous letter. Why, +then, should Hanaud give this mountebank of a fellow a free +opportunity to slander Betty Harlowe? Why should he question and +question as if there were solid weight in the accusation? Why, in a +word, didn't he fling open this door, allow Frobisher to produce the +blackmailing letters to Mr. Haslitt, and then stand aside while Boris +Waberski was put into that condition in which he would call upon the +services of Jeanne Baudin? Jim indeed was furiously annoyed with +Monsieur Hanaud. He explained to himself that he was disappointed. + +Meanwhile, Boris Waberski, after a little nervous check when Betty +had leaned forward, continued his description. + +"For such a one Dijon would be tiresome. It is true there was each +year a month or so at Monte Carlo, just enough to give one a hint of +what might be, like a cigarette to a man who wants to smoke. And +then back to Dijon! Ah, Monsieur, not the Dijon of the Dukes of +Burgundy, not even the Dijon of the Parliament of the States, but the +Dijon of to-day, an ordinary, dull, provincial town of France which +keeps nothing of its former gaieties and glory but some old rare +buildings and a little spirit of mockery. Imagine, then, Monsieur, +this hard one with a fortune and freedom within her grasp if only she +has the boldness on some night when Monsieur Boris is out of the way +to seize them! Nor is that all. For there is an invalid in the +house to whom attentions are owed--yes, and must be given." +Waberski, in a flight of excitement checked himself and half closed +his eyes, with a little cunning nod. "For the invalid was not so +easy. No, even that dear one had her failings. Oh, yes, and we will +not forget them when the moment comes for the extenuating pleas. No, +indeed," and he flung his arm out nobly. "I myself will be the first +to urge them to the judge of the Assizes when the verdict is given." + +Betty Harlowe leaned back once more indifferent. From an arm-chair +near the door, a little gurgle of laughter broke from the lips of Ann +Upcott. Even Hanaud smiled. + +"Yes, yes," he said; "but we have not got quite as far as the Court +of Assizes, Monsieur Waberski. We are still at the point where you +know it in your heart but not in your head." + +"That is so," Waberski returned briskly. "On the seventh of May, a +Saturday, I bring my accusation to the Prefecture. Why? For, on the +morning of that day I am certain. I know it at last here too," and +up went his hand to his forehead, and he hitched himself forward on +to the edge of his chair. + +"I am in the street of Gambetta, one of the small popular new +streets, a street with some little shops and a reputation not of the +best. At ten o'clock I am passing quickly through that street when +from a little shop a few yards in front of me out pops that hard one, +my niece." + +Suddenly the whole character of that session had changed. Jim +Frobisher, though he sat apart from it, felt the new tension, and was +aware of the new expectancy. A moment ago Boris Waberski as he sat +talking and gesticulating had been a thing for ridicule, almost for +outright laughter. Now, though his voice still jumped hysterically +from high notes to low notes and his body jerked like a marionette's, +he held the eyes of every one--every one, that is, except Betty +Harlowe. He was no longer vague. He was speaking of a definite hour +and a place and of a definite incident which happened there. + +"Yes, in that bad little street I see her. I do not believe my +senses. I step into a little narrow alley and I peep round the +corner. I peep with my eyes," and Waberski pointed to them with two +of his fingers as though there was something peculiarly convincing in +the fact that he peeped with them and not with his elbows, "and I am +sure. Then I wait until she is out of sight, and I creep forward to +see what shop it is she visited in that little street of squalor. +Once more I do not believe my eyes. For over the door I read the +name, Jean Cladel, Herbalist." + +He pronounced the name in a voice of triumph and sat back in his +chair, nodding his head violently at intervals of a second. There +was not a sound in the room until Hanaud's voice broke the silence. + +"I don't understand," he said softly. "Who is this Jean Cladel, and +why should a young lady not visit his shop?" + +"I beg your pardon," Waberski replied. "You are not of Dijon. No! +or you would not have asked that question. Jean Cladel has no better +name than the street he very suitably lives in. Ask a Dijonnais +about Jean Cladel, and you will see how he becomes silent and shrugs +his shoulders as if here was a topic on which it was becoming to be +silent. Better still, Monsieur Hanaud, ask at the Prefecture. Jean +Cladel! Twice he has been tried for selling prohibited drugs." + +Hanaud was stung at last out of his calm. + +"What is that?" he cried in a sharp voice. + +"Yes, twice, Monsieur. Each time he has scraped through, that is +true. He has powerful friends, and witnesses have been spirited +away. But he is known! Jean Cladel! Yes, Jean Cladel!" + +"Jean Cladel, Herbalist of the street Gambetta," Hanaud repeated +slowly. "But"--and he leaned back in an easier attitude--"you will +see my difficulty, Monsieur Waberski. Ten o'clock is a public hour. +It is not a likely hour for any one to choose for so imprudent a +visit, even if that one were stupid." + +"Yes, and so I reasoned too," Waberski interposed quickly. "As I +told you, I could not believe my eyes. But I made sure--oh, there +was no doubt, Monsieur Hanaud. And I thought to myself this. Crimes +are discovered because criminals, even the acutest, do sooner or +later some foolish thing. Isn't it so? Sometimes they are too +careful; they make their proofs too perfect for an imperfect world. +Sometimes they are too careless or are driven by necessity to a rash +thing. But somehow a mistake is made and justice wins the game." + +Hanaud smiled. + +"Aha! a student of crime, Monsieur!" He turned to Betty, and it +struck upon Jim Frobisher with a curious discomfort that this was the +first time Hanaud had looked directly at Betty since the interview +had begun. + +"And what do you say to this story, Mademoiselle?" + +"It is a lie," she answered quietly. + +"You did not visit Jean Cladel in the street of Gambetta at ten +o'clock on the morning of the 7th of May?" + +"I did not, Monsieur." + +Waberski smiled and twisted his moustache. + +"Of course! Of course! We could not expect Mademoiselle to admit +it. One fights for one's skin, eh?" + +"But, after all," Hanaud interrupted, with enough savagery in his +voice to check all Waberski's complacency, "let us not forget that on +the 7th of May, Madame Harlowe had been dead for ten days. Why +should Mademoiselle still be going to the shop of Jean Cladel?" + +"To pay," said Waberski. "Oh, no doubt Jean Cladel's wares are +expensive and have to be paid for more than once, Monsieur." + +"By wares you mean poison," said Hanaud. "Let us be explicit." + +"Yes." + +"Poison which was used to murder Madame Harlowe." + +"I say so," Waberski declared, folding his arms across his breast. + +"Very well," said Hanaud. He took from his green file a second paper +written over in a fine hand and emphasised by an official stamp. +"Then what will you say, Monsieur, if I tell you that the body of +Madame Harlowe has been exhumed?" Hanaud continued, and Waberski's +face lost what little colour it had. He stared at Hanaud, his jaw +working up and down nervously, and he did not say a word. + +"And what will you say if I tell you," Hanaud continued, "that no +more morphia was discovered in it than one sleeping-dose would +explain and no trace at all of any other poison?" + +In a complete silence Waberski took his handkerchief from his pocket +and dabbed his forehead. The game was up. He had hoped to make his +terms, but his bluff was called. He had not one atom of faith in his +own accusation. There was but one course for him to take, and that +was to withdraw his charge and plead that his affection for his +sister-in-law had led him into a gross mistake. But Boris Waberski +was never the man for that. He had that extra share of cunning which +shipwrecks always the minor rogue. He was unwise enough to imagine +that Hanaud might be bluffing too. + +He drew his chair a little nearer to the table. He tittered and +nodded at Hanaud confidentially. + +"You say 'if I tell you,'" he said smoothly. "Yes, but you do not +tell me, Monsieur Hanaud--no, not at all. On the contrary, what you +say is this: 'My friend Waberski, here is a difficult matter which, +if exposed, means a great scandal, and of which the issue is +doubtful. There is no good in stirring the mud.'" + +"Oh, I say that?" Hanaud asked, smiling pleasantly. + +Waberski felt sure of his ground now. + +"Yes, and more than that. You say, 'You have been badly treated, my +friend Waberski, and if you will now have a little talk with that +hard one your niece----'" + +And his chair slid back against the bookcase and he sat gaping +stupidly like a man who has been shot. + +Hanaud had sprung to his feet, he stood towering above the table, his +face suddenly dark with passion. + +"Oh, I say all that, do I?" he thundered. "I came all the way from +Paris to Dijon to preside over a little bargain in a murder case! +I--Hanaud! Oh! ho! ho! I'll teach you a lesson for that! Read +this!" and bending forward he thrust out the paper with the official +seal. "It is the report of the analysts. Take it, I tell you, and +read it!" + +Waberski reached out a trembling arm, afraid to venture nearer. Even +when he had the paper in his hands, they shook so he could not read +it. But since he had never believed in his charge that did not +matter. + +"Yes," he muttered, "no doubt I have made a mistake." + +Hanaud caught the word up. + +"Mistake! Ah, there's a fine word! I'll show you what sort of a +mistake you have made. Draw up your chair to this table in front of +me! So! And take a pen--so! And a sheet of paper--so! and now you +write for me a letter." + +"Yes, yes," Waberski agreed. All the bravado had gone from his +bearing, all the insinuating slyness. He was in a quiver from head +to foot. "I will write that I am sorry." + +"That is not necessary," roared Hanaud. "I will see to it that you +are sorry. No! You write for me what I dictate to you and in +English. You are ready? Yes? Then you begin. 'Dear Sirs.' You +have that?" + +"Yes, yes," said Waberski, scribbling hurriedly. His head was in a +whirl. He flinched as he wrote under the towering bulk of the +detective. He had as yet no comprehension of the goal to which he +was being led. + +"Good! 'Dear Sirs,'" Hanaud repeated. "But we want a date for that +letter. April 30th, eh? That will do. The day Madame Harlowe's +will was read and you found you were left no money. April 30th--put +it in. So! Now we go on. 'Dear Sirs, Send me at once one thousand +pounds by the recommended post, or I make some awkwardnesses----'" + +Waberski dropped his pen and sprang back out of his chair. + +"I don't understand--I can't write that.... There is an error--I +never meant..." he stammered, his hands raised as if to ward off an +attack. + +"Ah, you never meant the blackmail!" Hanaud cried savagely. "Ah! +Ha! Ha! It is good for you that I now know that! For when, as you +put it so delicately to Mademoiselle, the moment comes for the +extenuating pleas, I can rise up in the Court and urge it. Yes! I +will say: 'Mr. the President, though he did the blackmail, poor +fellow, he never meant it. So please to give him five years more,'" +and with that Hanaud swept across the room like a tornado and flung +open the door behind which Frobisher was waiting. + +"Come!" he said, and he led Jim into the room. "You produce the two +letters he wrote to your firm, Monsieur Frobisher. Good!" + +But it was not necessary to produce them. Boris Waberski had dropped +into a chair and burst into tears. There was a little movement of +discomfort made by every one in that room except Hanaud; and even his +anger dropped. He looked at Waberski in silence. + +"You make us all ashamed. You can go back to your hotel," he said +shortly. "But you will not leave Dijon, Monsieur Waberski, until it +is decided what steps we shall take with you." + +Waberski rose to his feet and stumbled blindly to the door. + +"I make my apologies," he stammered. "It is all a mistake. I am +very poor ... I meant no harm," and without looking at any one he got +himself out of the room. + +"That type! He at all events cannot any more think that Dijon is +dull," said Hanaud, and once more he adventured on the dangerous seas +of the English language. "Do you know what my friend Mister Ricardo +would have said? No? I tell you. He would have said, 'That fellow! +My God! What a sauce!'" + +Those left in the room, Betty, Ann Upcott, and Jim Frobisher, were in +a mood to welcome any excuse for laughter. The interdict upon the +house was raised, the charge against Betty proved of no account, the +whole bad affair was at an end. Or so it seemed. But Hanaud went +quickly to the door and closed it, and when he turned back there was +no laughter at all upon his face. + +"Now that that man has gone," he said gravely, "I have something to +tell you three which is very serious. I believe that, though +Waberski does not know it, Madame Harlowe was murdered by poison in +this house on the night of April the twenty-seventh." + +The statement was received in a dreadful silence. Jim Frobisher +stood like a man whom some calamity has stunned. Betty leaned +forward in her seat with a face of horror and incredulity; and then +from the arm-chair by the door where Ann Upcott was sitting there +burst a loud, wild cry. + +"There was some one in the house that night," she cried. + +Hanaud swung round to her, his eyes blazing. + +"And it is you who tell me that, Mademoiselle?" he asked in a +curious, steady voice. + +"Yes. It's the truth," she cried with a sort of relief in her voice, +that at last a secret was out which had grown past endurance. "I am +sure now. There was a stranger in the house." And though her face +was white as paper, her eyes met Hanaud's without fear. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT: _The Book_ + +The two startling declarations, one treading upon the heels of the +other, set Jim Frobisher's brain whirling. Consternation and +bewilderment were all jumbled together. He had no time to ask "how," +for he was already asking "What next?" His first clear thought was +for Betty, and as he looked at her, a sharp anger against both Hanaud +and Ann Upcott seized and shook him. Why hadn't they both spoken +before? Why must they speak now? Why couldn't they leave well alone? + +For Betty had fallen back in the window-seat, her hands idle at her +sides and her face utterly weary and distressed. Jim thought of some +stricken patient who wakes in the morning to believe for a few +moments that the malady was a bad dream; and then comes the stab and +the cloud of pain settles down for another day. A moment ago Betty's +ordeal seemed over. Now it was beginning a new phase. + +"I am sorry," he said to her. + +The report of the analysts was lying on the writing-table just +beneath his eyes. He took it up idly. It was a trick, of course, +with its seals and its signatures, a trick of Hanaud's to force +Waberski to a retraction. He glanced at it, and with an exclamation +began carefully to read it through from the beginning to the end. +When he had finished, he raised his head and stared at Hanaud. + +"But this report is genuine," he cried. "Here are the details of the +tests applied and the result. There was no trace discovered of any +poison." + +"No trace at all," Hanaud replied. He was not in the least disturbed +by the question. + +"Then I don't understand why you bring the accusation or whom you +accuse," Frobisher exclaimed. + +"I have accused no one," said Hanaud steadily. "Let us be clear +about that! As to your other question--look!" + +He took Frobisher by the elbow and led him to that bookshelf by the +window before which they had stood together yesterday. + +"There was an empty space here yesterday. You yourself drew my +attention to it. You see that the space is filled to-day." + +"Yes," said Jim. + +Hanaud took down the volume which occupied the space. It was of +quarto size, fairly thick and bound in a paper cover. + +"Look at that," he said; and Jim Frobisher as he took it noticed with +a queer little start that although Hanaud's eyes were on his face +they were blank of all expression. They did not see him. Hanaud's +senses were concentrated on the two girls at neither of whom he so +much as glanced. He was alert to them, to any movement they might +make of surprise or terror. Jim threw up his head in a sudden +revolt. He was being used for another trick, as some conjurer may +use a fool of a fellow whom he has persuaded out of his audience on +to his platform. Jim looked at the cover of the book, and cried with +enough violence to recall Hanaud's attention: + +"I see nothing here to the point. It is a treatise printed by some +learned society in Edinburgh." + +"It is. And if you will look again, you will see that it was written +by a Professor of Medicine in that University. And if you will look +a third time you will see from a small inscription in ink that the +copy was presented with the Professor's compliments to Mr. Simon +Harlowe." + +Hanaud, whilst he was speaking, went to the second of the two windows +which looked upon the court and putting his head out, spoke for a +little while in a low voice. + +"We shall not need our sentry here any more," he said as he turned +back into the room. "I have sent him upon an errand." + +He went back to Jim Frobisher, who was turning over a page of the +treatise here and there and was never a scrap the wiser. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Strophanthus Hispidus," Jim read aloud the title of the treatise. +"I can't make head or tail of it." + +"Let me try!" said Hanaud, and he took the book out of Frobisher's +hands. "I will show you all how I spent the half-hour whilst I was +waiting for you this morning." + +He sat down at the writing-table, placed the treatise on the +blotting-pad in front of him and laid it open at a coloured plate. + +"This is the fruit of the plant Strophanthus Hispidus, when it is +ripening," he said. + +The plate showed two long, tapering follicles joined together at +their stems and then separating like a pair of compasses set at an +acute angle. The backs of these follicles were rounded, dark in +colour and speckled; the inner surfaces, however, were flat, and the +curious feature of them was that, from longitudinal crevices, a +number of silky white feathers protruded. + +"Each of these feathers," Hanaud continued, and he looked up to find +that Ann Upcott had drawn close to the table and that Betty Harlowe +herself was leaning forward with a look of curiosity upon her +face--"each of these feathers is attached by a fine stalk to an +elliptical pod, which is the seed, and when the fruit is quite ripe +and these follicles have opened so that they make a straight line, +the feathers are released and the wind spreads the seed. It is +wonderful, eh? See!" + +Hanaud turned the pages until he came to another plate. Here a +feather was represented in complete detachment from the follicle. It +was outspread like a fan and was extraordinarily pretty and delicate +in its texture; and from it by a stem as fine as a hair the seed hung +like a jewel. + +"What would you say of it, Mademoiselle?" Hanaud asked, looking up +into the face of Ann Upcott with a smile. "An ornament wrought for a +fine lady, by a dainty artist, eh?" and he turned the book round so +that she on the opposite side of the table might the better admire +the engraving. + +Betty Harlowe, it seemed, was now mastered by her curiosity. Jim +Frobisher, gazing down over Hanaud's shoulder at the plate and +wondering uneasily whither he was being led, saw a shadow fall across +the book. And there was Betty, standing by the side of her friend +with the palms of her hands upon the edge of the table and her face +bent over the book. + +"One could wish it was an ornament, this seed of the Strophanthus +Hispidus," Hanaud continued with a shake of the head. "But, alas! it +is not so harmless." + +He turned the book around again to himself and once more turned the +pages. The smile had disappeared altogether from his face. He +stopped at a third plate; and this third plate showed a row of +crudely fashioned arrows with barbed heads. + +Hanaud glanced up over his shoulder at Jim. + +"Do you understand now the importance of this book, Monsieur +Frobisher?" he asked. "No? The seeds of this plant make the famous +arrow-poison of Africa. The deadliest of all the poisons since there +is no antidote for it." His voice grew sombre. "The wickedest of +all the poisons, since it leaves no trace." + +Jim Frobisher was startled. "Is that true?" he cried. + +"Yes," said Hanaud; and Betty suddenly leaned forward and pointed to +the bottom of the plate. + +"There is a mark there below the hilt of that arrow," she said +curiously. "Yes, and a tiny note in ink." + +For a moment a little gift of vision was vouchsafed to Jim Frobisher, +born, no doubt, of his perplexities and trouble. A curtain was rung +up in his brain. He saw no more than what was before him--the pretty +group about the table in the gold of the May morning, but it was all +made grim and terrible and the gold had withered to a light that was +grey and deathly and cold as the grave. There were the two girls in +the grace of their beauty and their youth, daintily tended, +fastidiously dressed, bending their shining curls over that plate of +the poison arrows like pupils at a lecture. And the man delivering +the lecture, so close to them, with speech so gentle, was implacably +on the trail of murder, and maybe even now looked upon one of these +two girls as his quarry; was even now perhaps planning to set her in +the dock of an Assize Court and send her out afterwards, carried +screaming and sobbing with terror in the first grey of the morning to +the hideous red engine erected during the night before the prison +gates. Jim saw Hanaud the genial and friendly, as in some flawed +mirror, twisted into a sinister and terrifying figure. How could he +sit so close with them at the table, talk to them, point them out +this and that diagram in the plates, he being human and knowing what +he purposed. Jim broke in upon the lecture with a cry of +exasperation. + +"But this isn't a poison! This is a book about a poison. The book +can't kill!" + +At once Hanaud replied to him: + +"Can't it?" he cried sharply. "Listen to what Mademoiselle said a +minute ago. Below the hilt of this arrow marked 'Figure F,' the +Professor has written a tiny note." + +This particular arrow was a little different from the others in the +shape of its shaft. Just below the triangular iron head the shaft +expanded. It was as though the head had been fitted into a bulb; as +one sees sometimes wooden penholders fine enough and tapering at the +upper end, and quite thick just above the nib. + +"'See page 37,'" said Hanaud, reading the Professor's note, and he +turned back the pages. + +"Page 37. Here we are!" + +Hanaud ran a finger half-way down the page and stopped at a word in +capitals. + +"Figure F." + +Hanaud hitched his chair a little closer to the table; Ann Upcott +moved round the end of the table that she might see the better; even +Jim Frobisher found himself stooping above Hanaud's shoulder. They +were all conscious of a queer tension; they were expectant like +explorers on the brink of a discovery. Whilst Hanaud read the +paragraph aloud, it seemed that no one breathed; and this is what he +read: + +"'Figure F is the representation of a poison arrow which was lent to +me by Simon Harlowe, Esq., of Blackman's, Norfolk, and the Maison +Crenelle at Dijon. It was given to him by a Mr. John Carlisle, a +trader on the Shire River in the Kombe country, and is the most +perfect example of a poison arrow which I have seen. The +Strophanthus seed has been pounded up in water and mixed with the +reddish clay used by the Kombe natives, and the compound is thickly +smeared over the head of the arrow shaft and over the actual iron +dart except at the point and the edges. The arrow is quite new and +the compound fresh.'" + +Hanaud leaned back in his chair when he had come to the end of this +paragraph. + +"You see, Monsieur Frobisher, the question we have to answer. Where +is to-day Simon Harlowe's arrow?" + +Betty looked up into Hanaud's face. + +"If it is anywhere in this house, Monsieur, it should be in the +locked cabinet in my sitting-room." + +"Your sitting-room?" Hanaud exclaimed sharply. + +"Yes. It is what we call the Treasure Room--half museum, half +living-room. My uncle Simon used it, Madame too. It was their +favourite room, full of curios and beautiful things. But after Simon +Harlowe died Madame would never enter it. She locked the door which +communicated with her dressing-room, so that she might never even in +a moment of forgetfulness enter it. The room has a door into the +hall. She gave the room to me." + +Hanaud's forehead cleared of its wrinkles. + +"I understand," he said. "And that room is sealed." + +"Yes." + +"Have you ever seen the arrow, Mademoiselle?" + +"Not that I remember. I only looked into the cabinet once. There +are some horrible things hidden away there"; and Betty shivered and +shook the recollection of them from her shoulders. + +"The chances are that it's not in the house at all, that it never +came back to the house," Frobisher argued stubbornly. "The Professor +in all probability would have kept it." + +"If he could," Hanaud rejoined. "But it's out of all probability +that a collector of rare things would have allowed him to keep it. +No!" and he sat for a little time in a muse. "Do you know what I am +wondering?" he asked at length, and then answered his own question. +"I am wondering whether after all Boris Waberski was not in the +street of Gambetta on the seventh of May and close, very close, to +the shop of Jean Cladel the herbalist." + +"Boris! Boris Waberski," cried Jim. Was he in Hanaud's eyes the +criminal? After all, why not? After all, who more likely if +criminal there was, since Boris Waberski thought himself an inheritor +under Mrs. Harlowe's will? + +"I am wondering whether he was not doing that very thing which he +attributed to you, Mademoiselle Betty," Hanaud continued. + +"Paying?" Betty cried. + +"Paying--or making excuses for not paying, which is more probable, or +recovering the poison arrow now clean of its poison, which is most +probable of all." + +At last Hanaud had made an end of his secrecies and reticence. His +suspicion, winged like the arrow in the plate, was flying straight to +this evident mark. Jim drew a breath like a man waking from a +nightmare; in all of that small company a relaxation was visible; Ann +Upcott drew away from the table; Betty said softly as though speaking +to herself, "Monsieur Boris! Monsieur Boris! Oh, I never thought of +that!" and, to Jim's admiration there was actually a note of regret +in her voice. + +It was audible, too, to Hanaud, since he answered with a smile: + +"But you must bring yourself to think of it, Mademoiselle. After +all, he was not so gentle with you that you need show him so much +good will." + +A slight rush of colour tinged Betty's cheeks. Jim was not quite +sure that a tiny accent of irony had not pointed Hanaud's words. + +"I saw him sitting here," she replied quickly, "half an hour +ago--abject--in tears--a man!" She shrugged her shoulders with a +gesture of distaste. "I wish him nothing worse. I was satisfied." + +Hanaud smiled again with a curious amusement, an appreciation which +Frobisher was quite at a loss to understand. But he had from time to +time received an uneasy impression that a queer little secret duel +was all this while being fought by Betty Harlowe and Hanaud +underneath the smooth surface of questions and answers--a duel in +which now one, now the other of the combatants got some trifling +scratch. This time it seemed Betty was hurt. + +"You are satisfied, Mademoiselle, but the Law is not," Hanaud +returned. "Boris Waberski expected a legacy. Boris Waberski needed +money immediately, as the first of the two letters which he wrote to +Monsieur Frobisher's firm clearly shows. Boris Waberski had a +motive." He looked from one to the other of his audience with a nod +to drive the point home. "Motives, no doubt, are signposts rather +difficult to read, and if one reads them amiss, they lead one very +wide astray. Granted! But you must look for your signposts all the +same and try to read them aright. Listen again to the Professor of +Medicine in the University of Edinburgh! He is as precise as a man +can be." + +Hanaud's eyes fell again upon the description of Figure F in the +treatise still open upon the table in front of him. + +"The arrow was the best specimen of a poison arrow which he had ever +come across. The poison paste was thickly and smoothly spread over +the arrow head and some inches of the shaft. The arrow was unused +and the poison fresh, and these poisons retain their energy for many, +many years. I tell you that if this book and this arrow were handed +over to Jean Cladel, Herbalist, Jean Cladel could with ease make a +solution in alcohol which injected from a hypodermic needle, would +cause death within fifteen minutes and leave not one trace." + +"Within fifteen minutes?" Betty asked incredulously, and from the +arm-chair against the wall, where Ann Upcott had once more seated +herself, there broke a startled exclamation. + +"Oh!" she cried, but no one took any notice of her at all. Both Jim +and Betty had their eyes fixed upon Hanaud, and he was altogether +occupied in driving his argument home. + +"Within fifteen minutes? How do you know?" cried Jim. + +"It is written here, in the book." + +"And where would Jean Cladel have learnt to handle the paste with +safety, how to prepare the solution?" Jim went on. + +"Here! Here! Here!" answered Hanaud, tapping with his knuckles upon +the treatise. "It is all written out here--experiment after +experiment made upon living animals and the action of the poison +measured and registered by minutes. Oh, given a man with a working +knowledge of chemicals such as Jean Cladel must possess, and the +result is certain." + +Betty Harlowe leaned forward again over the book and Hanaud turned it +half round between them, so that both, by craning their heads, could +read. He turned the pages back to the beginning and passed them +quickly in review. + +"See, Mademoiselle, the time tables. Strophanthus constricts the +muscles of the heart like digitalis, only much more violently, much +more swiftly. See the contractions of the heart noted down minute +after minute, until the moment of death and all--here is the +irony!--so that by means of these experiments, the poison may be +transformed into a medicine and the weapon of death become an agent +of life--as in good hands, it has happened." Hanaud leaned back and +contemplated Betty Harlowe between his half-closed eyes. "That is +wonderful, Mademoiselle. What do you think?" + +Betty slowly closed the book. + +"I think, Monsieur Hanaud," she said, "it is no less wonderful that +you should have studied this book so thoroughly during the half-hour +you waited for us here this morning." + +It was Hanaud's turn to change colour. The blood mounted into his +face. He was for a second or two quite disconcerted. Jim once more +had a glimpse of the secret duel and rejoiced that this time it was +Hanaud, the great Hanaud, who was scratched. + +"The study of poisons is particularly my work," he answered shortly. +"Even at the Sûrété we have to specialise nowadays," and he turned +rather quickly towards Frobisher. "You are thoughtful, Monsieur?" + +Jim was following out his own train of thought. + +"Yes," he answered. Then he spoke to Betty. + +"Boris Waberski had a latch-key, I suppose?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +"He took it away with him?" + +"I think so." + +"When are the iron gates locked?" + +"It is the last thing Gaston does before he goes to bed." + +Jim's satisfaction increased with every answer he received. + +"You see, Monsieur Hanaud," he cried, "all this while we have been +leaving out a question of importance. Who put this book back upon +its shelf? And when? Yesterday at noon the space was empty. This +morning it is filled. Who filled it? Last night we sat in the +garden after dinner behind the house. What could have been easier +than for Waberski to slip in with his latch-key at some moment when +the court was empty, replace the book and slip out again unnoticed? +Why----" + +A gesture of Betty's brought him to a halt. + +"Unnoticed? Impossible!" she said bitterly. "The police have a +_sergent-de-ville_ at our gates, night and day." + +Hanaud shook his head. + +"He is there no longer. After you were good enough to answer me so +frankly yesterday morning the questions it was my duty to put to you, +I had him removed at once." + +"Why, that's true," Jim exclaimed joyfully. He remembered now that +when he had driven up with his luggage from the hotel in the +afternoon, the street of Charles-Robert had been quite empty. Betty +Harlowe stood taken aback by her surprise. Then a smile made her +face friendly; her eyes danced to the smile, and she dipped to the +detective a little mock curtsy. But her voice was warm with +gratitude. + +"I thank you, Monsieur. I did not notice yesterday that the man had +been removed, or I should have thanked you before. Indeed I was not +looking for so much consideration at your hands. As I told my friend +Jim, I believed that you went away thinking me guilty." + +Hanaud raised a hand in protest. To Jim it was the flourish of the +sword with which the duellist saluted at the end of the bout. The +little secret combat between these two was over. Hanaud, by removing +the sergeant from before the gates, had given a sign surely not only +to Betty but to all Dijon that he found nothing to justify any +surveillance of her goings out and comings in, or any limitations +upon her freedom. + +"Then you see," Jim insisted. He was still worrying at his solution +of the case like a dog with a bone. "You see Waberski had the road +clear for him last night." + +Betty, however, would not have it. She shook her head vigorously. + +"I won't believe that Monsieur Boris is guilty of so horrible a +murder. More," and she turned her great eyes pleadingly upon Hanaud, +"I don't believe that any murder was committed here at all. I don't +want to believe it," and for a moment her voice faltered. + +"After all, Monsieur Hanaud, what are you building this dreadful +theory upon? That a book of my Uncle Simon was not in his library +yesterday and is there to-day. We know nothing more. We don't know +even whether Jean Cladel exists at all." + +"We shall know that, Mademoiselle, very soon," said Hanaud, staring +down at the book upon the table. + +"We don't know whether the arrow is in the house, whether it ever +was." + +"We must make sure, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud stubbornly. + +"And even if you had it now, here with the poison clinging in shreds +to the shaft, you still couldn't be sure that the rest of it had been +used. Here is a report, Monsieur, from the doctors. Because it says +that no trace of the poison can be discovered, you can't infer that a +poison was administered which leaves no trace. You never can prove +it. You have nothing to go upon. It's all guesswork, and guesswork +which will keep us living in a nightmare. Oh, if I thought for a +moment that murder had been committed, I'd say, 'Go on, go on'! But +it hasn't. Oh, it hasn't!" + +Betty's voice rang with so evident a sincerity, there was so strong a +passion of appeal, for peace, for an end of suspicion, for a right to +forget and be forgotten, that Jim fancied no man could resist it. +Indeed, Hanaud sat for a long while with his eyes bent upon the table +before he answered her. But when at last he did, gently though his +voice began, Jim knew at once that she had lost. + +"You argue and plead very well, Mademoiselle Betty," he said. "But +we have each of us our little creeds by which we live for better or +for worse. Here is mine, a very humble one. I can discover +extenuations in most crimes: even crimes of violence. Passion, +anger, even greed! What are they but good qualities developed beyond +the bounds? Things at the beginning good and since grown monstrous! +So, too, in the execution. This or that habit of life makes natural +this or that weapon which to us is hideous and abnormal and its mere +use a sign of a dreadful depravity. Yes, I recognise these +palliations. But there is one crime I never will forgive--murder by +poison. And one criminal in whose pursuit I will never tire nor +slacken, the Poisoner." Through the words there ran a real thrill of +hatred, and though Hanaud's voice was low, and he never once raised +his eyes from the table, he held the three who listened to him in a +dreadful spell. + +"Cowardly and secret, the poisoner has his little world at his mercy, +and a fine sort of mercy he shows to be sure," he continued bitterly. +"His hideous work is so easy. It just becomes a vice like drink, no +more than that to the poisoner, but with a thousand times the +pleasure drink can give. Like the practice of some abominable art. +I tell you the truth now! Show me one victim to-day and the poisoner +scot-free, and I'll show you another victim before the year's out. +Make no mistake! Make no mistake!" + +His voice rang out and died away. But the words seemed still to +vibrate in the air of that room, to strike the walls and rebound from +them and still be audible. Jim Frobisher, for all his slow +imagination, felt that had a poisoner been present and heard them, +some cry of guilt must have rent the silence and betrayed him. His +heart stopped in its beats listening for a cry, though his reason +told him there was no mouth in that room from which the cry could +come. + +Hanaud looked up at Betty when he had finished. He begged her pardon +with a little flutter of his hands and a regretful smile. "You must +take me, therefore, as God made me, Mademoiselle, and not blame me +more than you can help for the distress I still must cause you. +There was never a case more difficult. Therefore never one about +which one way or the other I must be more sure." + +Before Betty could reply there came a knock upon the door. + +"Come in," Hanaud cried out, and a small, dark, alert man in plain +clothes entered the room. + +"This is Nicolas Moreau, who was keeping watch in the courtyard. I +sent him some while ago upon an errand," he explained and turned +again to Moreau. + +"Well, Nicolas?" + +Nicolas stood at attention, with his hands at the seams of his +trousers, in spite of his plain clothes, and he recited rather than +spoke in a perfectly expressionless official voice. + +"In accordance with instructions I went to the shop of Jean Cladel. +It is number seven. From the Rue Gambetta I went to the Prefecture. +I verified your statement. Jean Cladel has twice appeared before the +Police Correctionelle for selling forbidden drugs and has twice been +acquitted owing to the absence of necessary witnesses." + +"Thank you, Nicolas." + +Moreau saluted, turned on his heel, and went out of the room. There +followed a moment of silence, of discouragement. Hanaud looked +ruefully at Betty. + +"You see! I must go on. We must search in that locked cabinet of +Simon Harlowe's for the poison arrow, if by chance it should be +there." + +"The room is sealed," Frobisher reminded him. + +"We must have those seals removed," he replied, and he took his watch +from his pocket and screwed up his face in grimace. + +"We need Monsieur the Commissary, and Monsieur the Commissary will +not be in a good humour if we disturb him now. For it is twelve +o'clock, the sacred hour of luncheon. You will have observed upon +the stage that Commissaries of Police are never in a good humour. It +is because----" But Hanaud's audience was never to hear his +explanation of this well-known fact. For he stopped with a queer +jerk of his voice, his watch still dangling from his fingers upon its +chain. Both Jim and Betty looked at once where he was looking. They +saw Ann Upcott standing up against the wall with her hand upon the +top rail of a chair to prevent herself from falling. Her eyes were +closed, her whole face a mask of misery. Hanaud was at her side in a +moment. + +"Mademoiselle," he asked with a breathless sort of eagerness, "what +is it you have to tell me?" + +"It is true, then?" she whispered. "Jean Cladel exists?" + +"Yes." + +"And the poison arrow could have been used?" she faltered, and the +next words would not be spoken, but were spoken at the last. "And +death would have followed in fifteen minutes?" + +"Upon my oath it is true," Hanaud insisted. "What is it you have to +tell me?" + +"That I could have hindered it all. I shall never forgive myself. I +could have hindered the murder." + +Hanaud's eyes narrowed as he watched the girl. Was he disappointed, +Frobisher wondered? Did he expect quite another reply? A swift +movement by Betty distracted him from these questions. He saw Betty +looking across the room at them with the strangest glittering eyes he +had ever seen. And then Ann Upcott drew herself away from Hanaud and +stood up against the wall at her full height with her arms +outstretched. She seemed to be setting herself apart as a pariah; +her whole attitude and posture cried, "Stone me! I am waiting." + +Hanaud put his watch into his pocket. + +"Mademoiselle, we will let the Commissary eat his luncheon in peace, +and we will hear your story first. But not here. In the garden +under the shade of the trees." He took his handkerchief and wiped +his forehead. "Indeed I too feel the heat. This room is as hot as +an oven." + +When Jim Frobisher looked back in after time upon the incidents of +that morning, nothing stood out so vividly in his memories, no, not +even the book of arrows and its plates, not Hanaud's statement of his +creed, as the picture of him twirling his watch at the end of his +chain, whilst it sparkled in the sunlight and he wondered whether he +should break in now upon the Commissaire of Police or let him eat his +luncheon in quiet. So much that was then unsuspected by them all, +hung upon the exact sequence of events. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE: _The Secret_ + +The garden chairs were already set out upon a lawn towards the +farther end of the garden in the shadow of the great trees. Hanaud +led the way towards them. + +"We shall be in the cool here and with no one to overhear us but the +birds," he said, and he patted and arranged the cushions in a deep +arm-chair of basket work for Ann Upcott. Jim Frobisher was reminded +again of the solicitude of a doctor with an invalid and again the +parallel jarred upon him. But he was getting a clearer insight into +the character of this implacable being. The little courtesies and +attentions were not assumed. They were natural, but they would not +hinder him for a moment in his pursuit. He would arrange the +cushions with the swift deft hands of a nurse--yes, but he would slip +the handcuffs on the wrists of his invalid, a moment afterwards, no +less deftly and swiftly, if thus his duty prompted him. + +"There!" he said. "Now, Mademoiselle, you are comfortable. For me, +if I am permitted, I shall smoke." + +He turned round to ask for permission of Betty, who with Jim had +followed into the garden behind him. + +"Of course," she answered; and coming forward, she sat down in +another of the chairs. + +Hanaud pulled out of a pocket a bright blue bundle of thin black +cigarettes and lit one. Then he sat in a chair close to the two +girls. Jim Frobisher stood behind Hanaud. The lawn was dappled with +sunlight and cool shadows. The blackbird and the thrush were calling +from bough and bush, the garden was riotous with roses and the air +sweet with their perfume. It was a strange setting for the eerie +story which Ann Upcott had to tell of her adventures in the darkness +and silence of a night; but the very contrast seemed to make the +story still more vivid. + +"I did not go to Monsieur de Pouillac's Ball on the night of April +the 27th," she began, and Jim started, so that Hanaud raised his hand +to prevent him interrupting. He had not given a thought to where Ann +Upcott had been upon that night. To Hanaud, however, the statement +brought no surprise. + +"You were not well?" he asked. + +"It wasn't that," Ann replied. "But Betty and I had--I won't say a +rule, but a sort of working arrangement which I think had been in +practice ever since I came to the Maison Crenelle. We didn't +encroach upon each other's independence." + +The two girls had recognised from their first coming together that +privacy was the very salt of companionship. Each had a sanctuary in +her own sitting-room. + +"I don't think Betty has ever been in mine, I only once or twice in +hers," said Ann. "We had each our own friends. We didn't pester +each other with questions as to where we had been and with whom. In +a word, we weren't all the time shadows upon each other's heels." + +"A wise rule, Mademoiselle," Hanaud agreed cordially. "A good many +households are split from roof to cellar by the absence of just such +a rule. The de Pouillacs then were Mademoiselle Betty's friends." + +"Yes. As soon as Betty had gone," Ann resumed, "I told Gaston that +he might turn off the lights and go to bed whenever he liked; and I +went upstairs to my own sitting-room, which is next to my bedroom. +You can see the windows from here. There!" + +They were in a group facing the back of the long house across the +garden. To the right of the hall stretched the line of shuttered +windows, with Betty's bedroom just above. Ann pointed to the wing on +the left of the hall and towards the road. + +"I see. You are above the library, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud. + +"Yes. I had a letter to write," Ann continued, and suddenly +faltered. She had come upon some obstacle in the telling of her +story which she had forgotten when she had uttered her cry in the +library. She gasped. "Oh!" she murmured, and again "Oh!" in a low +voice. She glanced anxiously at Betty, but she got no help from her +at all. Betty was leaning forward with her elbows upon her knees and +her eyes on the grass at her feet and apparently miles away in +thought. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle," Hanaud asked smoothly. + +"It was an important letter," Ann went on again, choosing her words +warily, much as yesterday at one moment in her interrogatory Betty +herself had done--concealing something, too, just as Betty had done. +"I had promised faithfully to write it. But the address was +downstairs in Betty's room. It was the address of a doctor," and +having said that, it seemed that she had cleared her obstacle, for +she went on in a more easy and natural tone. + +"You know what it is, Monsieur Hanaud. I had been playing tennis all +the afternoon. I was pleasantly tired. There was a letter to be +written with a good deal of care and the address was all the way +downstairs. I said to myself that I would think out the terms of my +letter first." + +And here Jim Frobisher, who had been shifting impatiently from one +foot to the other, broke in upon the narrative. + +"But what was this letter about and to what doctor?" he asked. + +Hanaud swung round almost angrily. + +"Oh, please!" he cried. "These things will all come to light of +themselves in their due order, if we leave them alone and keep them +in our memories. Let Mademoiselle tell her story in her own way," +and he was back at Ann Upcott again in a flash. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle. You determined to think out the tenor of your +letter." + +A hint of a smile glimmered upon the girl's face for a second. "But +it was an excuse really, an excuse to sit down in my big arm-chair, +stretch out my legs and do nothing at all. You can guess what +happened." + +Hanaud smiled and nodded. + +"You fell fast asleep. Conscience does not keep young people, who +are healthy and tired, awake," he said. + +"No, but it wakes up with them," Ann returned, "and upbraids at once +bitterly. I woke up rather chilly, as people do who have gone to +sleep in their chairs. I was wearing a little thin frock of pale +blue tulle--oh, a feather-weight of a frock! Yes, I was cold and my +conscience was saying, 'Oh, big lazy one! And your letter? Where is +it?' + +"In a moment I was standing up and the next I was out of the room on +the landing, and I was still half dazed with sleep. I closed my door +behind me. It was just chance that I did it. The lights were all +out on the staircase and in the hall below. The curtains were drawn +across the windows. There was no moon that night. I was in a +darkness so complete that I could not see the glimmer of my hand when +I raised it close before my face." + +Hanaud let the end of his cigarette drop at his feet. Betty had +raised her face and was staring at Ann with her mouth parted. For +all of them the garden had disappeared with its sunlight and its +roses and its singing birds. They were upon that staircase with Ann +Upcott in the black night. The swift changes of colour in her cheeks +and of expression in her eyes--the nervous vividness of her compelled +them to follow with her. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle?" said Hanaud quietly. + +"The darkness didn't matter to me," she went on, with an amazement at +her own fearlessness, now that she knew the after-history of that +evening. "I am afraid now. I wasn't then," and Jim remembered how +the night before in the garden her eyes had shifted from this dark +spot to that in search of an intruder. Certainly she was afraid now! +Her hands were clenched tight upon the arms of her chair, her lips +shook. + +"I knew every tread of the stairs. My hand was on the balustrade. +There was no sound. It never occurred to me that any one was awake +except myself. I did not even turn on the light in the hall by the +switch at the bottom of the stairs. I knew that there was a switch +just inside the door of Betty's room, and that was enough. I think, +too, that I didn't want to rouse anybody. At the foot of the stairs +I turned right like a soldier. Exactly opposite to me across the +hall was the door of Betty's room. I crossed the hall with my hands +out in front of me," and Betty, as though she herself were crossing +the hall, suddenly thrust both her hands out in front of her. + +"Yes, one would have to do that," she said slowly. "In the +dark--with nothing but space in front of one---- Yes!" and then she +smiled as she saw that Hanaud's eyes were watching her curiously. +"Don't you think so, Monsieur Hanaud?" + +"No doubt," said he. "But let us not interrupt Mademoiselle." + +"I touched the wall first," Ann resumed, "just at the angle of the +corridor and the hall." + +"The corridor with the windows on to the courtyard on the one side +and the doors of the receptions on the other?" Hanaud asked. + +"Yes." + +"Were the curtains drawn across all those windows too, Mademoiselle?" + +"Yes. There was not a glimmer of light anywhere. I felt my way +along the wall to my right--that is, in the hall, of course, not the +corridor--until my hands slipped off the surface and touched nothing. +I had reached the embrasure of the doorway. I felt for the +door-knob, turned it and entered the room. The light switch was in +the wall at the side of the door, close to my left hand. I snapped +it down. I think that I was still half asleep when I turned the +light on in the treasure-room, as we called it. But the next moment +I was wide awake--oh, I have never been more wide awake in my life. +My fingers indeed were hardly off the switch after turning the light +on, before they were back again turning the light off. But this time +I eased the switch up very carefully, so that there should be no +snap--no, not the tiniest sound to betray me. There was so short an +interval between the two movements of my hand that I had just time to +notice the clock on the top of the marquetry cabinet in the middle of +the wall opposite to me, and then once more I stood in darkness, but +stock still and holding my breath--a little frightened--yes, no doubt +a little frightened, but more astonished than frightened. For in the +inner wall of the room, at the other end, close by the window, +there,"--and Ann pointed to the second of those shuttered windows +which stared so blankly on the garden--"the door which was always +locked since Simon Harlowe's death stood open and a bright light +burned beyond." + +Betty Harlowe uttered a little cry. + +"That door?" she exclaimed, now at last really troubled. "It stood +open? How can that have been?" + +Hanaud shifted his position in his chair, and asked her a question. + +"On which side of the door was the key, Mademoiselle?" + +"On Madame's, if the key was in the lock at all." + +"Oh! You don't remember whether it was?" + +"No," said Betty. "Of course both Ann and I were in and out of +Madame's bedroom when she was ill, but there was a dressing-room +between the bedroom and the communicating door of my room, so that we +should not have noticed." + +"To be sure," Hanaud agreed. "The dressing-room in which the nurse +might have slept and did when Madame had a seizure. Do you remember +whether the communicating door was still open or unlocked on the next +morning?" + +Betty frowned and reflected, and shook her head. + +"I cannot remember. We were all in great trouble. There was so much +to do. I did not notice." + +"No. Indeed why should you?" said Hanaud. He turned back to Ann. +"Before you go on with this curious story, Mademoiselle, tell me +this! Was the light beyond the open door, a light in the +dressing-room or in the room beyond the dressing-room, Madame +Harlowe's bedroom, or didn't you notice?" + +"In the far room, I think," Ann answered confidently. "There would +have been more light in the treasure-room otherwise. The +treasure-room is long no doubt, but where I stood I was completely in +darkness. There was only this panel of yellow light in the open +doorway. It lay in a band straight across the carpet and it lit up +the sedan chair opposite the doorway until it all glistened like +silver." + +"Oho, there is a sedan chair in that museum?" said Hanaud lightly. +"It will be interesting to see. So the light, Mademoiselle, came +from the far room?" + +"The light and--and the voices," said Ann with a quaver in her throat. + +"Voices!" cried Hanaud. He sat up straight in his chair, whilst +Betty Harlowe went as white as a ghost. "Voices! What is this? Did +you recognise those voices?" + +"One, Madame's. There was no mistaking it. It was loud and violent +for a moment. Then it went off into a mumble of groans. The other +voice only spoke once and very few words and very clearly. But it +spoke in a whisper. There was too a sound of--movements." + +"Movements!" said Hanaud sharply; and with his voice his face seemed +to sharpen too. "Here's a word which does not help us much. A +procession moves. So does the chair if I push it. So does my hand +if I cover a mouth and stop a cry. Is it that sort of movement you +mean, Mademoiselle?" + +Under the stern insistence of his questions Ann Upcott suddenly +weakened. + +"Oh, I am afraid so," she said with a loud cry, and she clapped her +hands to her face. "I never understood until this morning when you +spoke of how the arrow might be used. Oh, I shall never forgive +myself. I stood in the darkness, a few yards away--no more--I stood +quite still and listened and just beyond the lighted doorway Madame +was being killed!" She drew her hands from her face and beat upon +her knees with her clenched fists in a frenzy. + +"'Yes, I believe that now!' Madame cried in the hoarse, harsh voice +we knew: 'Stripped, eh? Stripped to the skin!' and she laughed +wildly; and then came the sound, as though--yes, it might have been +that!--as though she were forced down and held, and Madame's voice +died to a mumble and then silence--and then the other voice in a low +clear whisper, 'That will do now.' And all the while I stood in the +darkness--oh!" + +"What did you do after that clear whisper reached your ears?" Hanaud +commanded. "Take your hands from your face, if you please, and let +me hear." + +Ann Upcott obeyed him. She flung her head back with the tears +streaming down her face. + +"I turned," she whispered. "I went out of the room. I closed the +door behind me--oh, ever so gently. I fled." + +"Fled? Fled? Where to?" + +"Up the stairs! To my room." + +"And you rang no bell? You roused no one? You fled to your room! +You hid your head under the bed-clothes like a child! Come, come, +Mademoiselle!" + +Hanaud broke off his savage irony to ask, + +"And whose voice did you think it was that whispered so clearly, +'That will do now?' The stranger's you spoke of in the library this +morning?" + +"No, Monsieur," Ann replied. "I could not tell. With a whisper one +voice is like another." + +"But you must have given that voice an owner. To run away and +hide--no one would do that." + +"I thought it was Jeanne Baudin's." + +And Hanaud sat back in his chair again, gazing at the girl with a +look in which there was as much horror as incredulity. Jim Frobisher +stood behind him ashamed of his very race. Could there be a more +transparent subterfuge? If she thought that the nurse Jeanne Baudin +was in the bedroom, why did she turn and fly? + +"Come, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud. His voice had suddenly become +gentle, almost pleading. "You will not make me believe that." + +Ann Upcott turned with a helpless gesture towards Betty. + +"You see!" she said. + +"Yes," Betty answered. She sat in doubt for a second or two and then +sprang to her feet. + +"Wait!" she said, and before any one could have stopped her she was +skimming half-way across the garden to the house. Jim Frobisher +wondered whether Hanaud had meant to stop her and then had given up +the idea as quite out of the question. Certainly he had made some +small quick movement; and even now, he watched Betty's flight across +the broad lawn between the roses with an inscrutable queer look. + +"To run like that!" he said to Frobisher, "with a boy's nimbleness +and a girl's grace! It is pretty, eh? The long slim legs that +twinkle, the body that floats!" and Betty ran up the stone steps into +the house. + +There was a tension in Hanaud's attitude with which his light words +did not agree, and he watched the blank windows of the house with +expectancy. Betty, however, was hardly a minute upon her errand. +She reappeared upon the steps with a largish envelope in her hand and +quickly rejoined the group. + +"Monsieur, we have tried to keep this back from you," she said, +without bitterness but with a deep regret. "I yesterday, Ann to-day, +just as we have tried for many years to keep it from all Dijon. But +there is no help for it now." + +She opened the envelope and, taking out a cabinet photograph, handed +it to Hanaud. + +"This is the portrait of Madame, my aunt, at the time of her marriage +with my uncle." + +It was the three-quarter length portrait of a woman, slender with the +straight carriage of youth, in whose face a look of character had +replaced youth's prettiness. It was a face made spiritual by +suffering, the eyes shadowed and wistful, the mouth tender, and +conveying even in the hard medium of a photograph some whimsical +sense of humour. It made Jim Frobisher, gazing over Hanaud's +shoulder, exclaim not "She was beautiful," but "I would like to have +known her." + +"Yes! A companion," Hanaud added. + +Betty took a second photograph from the envelope. + +"But this, Monsieur, is the same lady a year ago." + +The second photograph had been taken at Monte Carlo, and it was +difficult to believe that it was of the same woman, so tragic a +change had taken place within those ten years. Hanaud held the +portraits side by side. The grace, the suggestion of humour had all +gone; the figure had grown broad, the features coarse and heavy; the +cheeks had fattened, the lips were pendulous; and there was nothing +but violence in the eyes. It was a dreadful picture of collapse. + +"It is best to be precise, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud gently, "though +these photographs tell their unhappy story clearly enough. Madame +Harlowe, during the last years of her life, drank?" + +"Since my uncle's death," Betty explained. "Her life, as very likely +you know already, had been rather miserable and lonely before she +married him. But she had a dream then on which to live. After Simon +Harlowe died, however----" and she ended her explanation with a +gesture. + +"Yes," Hanaud replied, "of course, Mademoiselle, we have known, +Monsieur Frobisher and I, ever since we came into this affair that +there was some secret. We knew it before your reticence of yesterday +or Mademoiselle Upcott's of to-day. Waberski must have known of +something which you would not care to have exposed before he +threatened your lawyers in London, or brought his charges against +you." + +"Yes, he knew and the doctors and the servants of course who were +very loyal. We did our best to keep our secret but we could never be +sure that we had succeeded." + +A friendly smile broadened Hanaud's face. + +"Well, we can make sure now and here," he said, and both the girls +and Jim stared at him. + +"How?" they exclaimed in an incredulous voice. + +Hanaud beamed. He held them in suspense. He spread out his hands. +The artist as he would have said, the mountebank as Jim Frobisher +would have expressed it, had got the upper hand in him, and prepared +his effect. + +"By answering me one simple question," he said. "Have either of you +two ladies received an anonymous letter upon the subject?" + +The test took them all by surprise; yet each one of them recognised +immediately that they could hardly have a better. All the secrets of +the town had been exploited at one time or another by this unknown +person or group of persons--all the secrets that is, except this one +of Mrs. Harlowe's degradation. For Betty answered, + +"No! I never received one." + +"Nor I," added Ann. + +"Then your secret is your secret still," said Hanaud. + +"For how long now?" Betty asked quickly, and Hanaud did not answer a +word. He could make no promise without being false to what he had +called his creed. + +"It is a pity," said Betty wistfully. "We have striven so hard, Ann +and I," and she gave to the two men a glimpse of the life the two +girls had led in the Maison Crenelle. "We could do very little. We +had neither of us any authority. We were both of us dependent upon +Madame's generosity, and though no one could have been kinder +when--when Madame was herself, she was not easy when she had--the +attacks. There was too much difference in age between us and her for +us really to do anything but keep guard. + +"She would not brook interference; she drank alone in her bedroom; +she grew violent and threatening if any one interfered. She would +turn them all into the street. If she needed any help she could ring +for the nurse, as indeed she sometimes, though rarely, did." It was +a dreadful and wearing life as Betty Harlowe described it for the two +young sentinels. + +"We were utterly in despair," Betty continued. "For Madame, of +course, was really ill with her heart, and we always feared some +tragedy would happen. This letter which Ann was to write when I was +at Monsieur de Pouillac's ball seemed our one chance. It was to a +doctor in England--he called himself a doctor at all events--who +advertised that he had a certain remedy which could be given without +the patient's knowledge in her food and drink. Oh, I had no faith in +it, but we had got to try it." + +Hanaud looked round at Frobisher triumphantly. + +"What did I say to you, Monsieur Frobisher, when you wanted to ask a +question about this letter? You see! These things disclose +themselves in their due order if you leave them alone." + +The triumph went out of his voice. He rose to his feet and, bowing +to Betty with an unaffected stateliness and respect, he handed her +back the photographs. + +"Mademoiselle, I am very sorry," he said. "It is clear that you and +your friend have lived amongst difficulties which we did not suspect. +And, for the secret, I shall do what I can." + +Jim quite forgave him the snub which had been administered to him for +the excellence of his manner towards Betty. He had a hope even that +now he would forswear his creed, so that the secret might still be +kept and the young sentinels receive their reward for their close +watch. But Hanaud sat down again in his chair, and once more turned +towards Ann Upcott. He meant to go on then. He would not leave well +alone. Jim was all the more disappointed, because he could not but +realise that the case was more and more clearly building itself from +something unsubstantial into something solid, from a conjecture to an +argument--this case against some one. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN: _The Clock upon the Cabinet_ + +Ann Upcott's story was in the light of this new disclosure +intelligible enough. Standing in the darkness, she had heard, as she +thought, Mrs. Harlowe in one of her violent outbreaks. Then with a +sense of relief she had understood that Jeanne Baudin the nurse was +with Mrs. Harlowe, controlling and restraining her and finally +administering some sedative. She had heard the outcries diminish and +cease and a final whisper from the nurse to her patient or even +perhaps to herself, "That will do now." Then she had turned and +fled, taking care to attract no attention to herself. Real cowardice +had nothing to do with her flight. The crisis was over. Her +intervention, which before would only have been a provocation to a +wilder outburst on the part of Mrs. Harlowe, was now altogether +without excuse. It would once more have aroused the invalid, and +next day would have added to the discomfort and awkwardness of life +in the Maison Crenelle. For Mrs. Harlowe sober would have known that +Ann had been a witness of one more of her dreadful exhibitions. The +best thing which Ann could do, she did, given that her interpretation +of the scene was the true one. She ran noiselessly back in the +darkness to her room. + +"Yes," said Hanaud. "But you believe now that your interpretation +was not correct. You believe now that whilst you stood in the +darkness with the door open and the light beyond, Madame Harlowe was +being murdered, coldly and cruelly murdered a few feet away from you." + +Ann Upcott shivered from head to foot. + +"I don't want to believe it," she cried. "It's too horrible." + +"You believe now that the one who whispered 'That will do now,' was +not Jeanne Baudin," Hanaud insisted, "but some unknown person, and +that the whisper was uttered after murder had been done to a third +person in that room." + +Ann twisted her body from this side to that; she wrung her hands. + +"I am afraid of it!" she moaned. + +"And what is torturing you now, Mademoiselle, is remorse that you did +not step silently forward and from the darkness of the treasure-room +look through that lighted doorway." He spoke with a great +consideration and his insight into her distress was in its way a +solace to her. + +"Yes," she exclaimed eagerly. "I told you this morning I could have +hindered it. I didn't understand until this morning. You see, that +night something else happened"; and now indeed stark fear drew the +colour from her cheeks and shone in her eyes. + +"Something else?" Betty asked with a quick indraw of her breath, and +she shifted her chair a little so that she might face Ann. She was +wearing a black coat over a white silk shirt open at the throat, and +she took her handkerchief from a side pocket of the coat and drew it +across her forehead. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle," Hanaud explained. "It is clear that something +else happened that night to your friend, something which, taken +together with our talk this morning over the book of arrows, had made +her believe that murder was done." He looked at Ann. "You went then +to your room?" + +Ann resumed her story. + +"I went to bed. I was very--what shall I say?--disturbed by Madame's +outburst, as I thought it. One never knew what was going to happen +in this house. It was on my nerves. For a time I tumbled from side +to side in my bed. I was in a fever. Then suddenly I was asleep, +sound asleep. But only for a time. I woke up and it was still pitch +dark in my room. There was not a thread of light from the shutters. +I turned over from my side on to my back and I stretched out my arms +above my head. As God is my Judge I touched a face----" and even +after all these days the terror of that moment was so vivid and fresh +to her that she shuddered and a little sob broke from her lips. "A +face quite close to me bending over me, in silence. I drew my hands +away with a gasp. My heart was in my throat. I lay just for a +second or two dumb, paralysed. Then my voice came back to me and I +screamed." + +It was the look of the girl as she told her story perhaps more than +the words she used; but something of her terror spread like a +contagion amongst her hearers. Jim Frobisher's shoulders worked +uneasily. Betty with her big eyes wide open, her breath suspended, +hung upon Ann's narrative. Hanaud himself said: + +"You screamed? I do not wonder." + +"I knew that no one could hear me and that lying down I was +helpless," Ann continued. "I sprang out of bed in a panic, and now I +touched no one. I was so scared out of my wits that I had lost all +sense of direction. I couldn't find the switch of the electric +light. I stumbled along a wall feeling with my hands. I heard +myself sobbing as though I was a stranger. At last I knocked against +a chest of drawers and came a little to myself. I found my way then +to the switch and turned on the light. The room was empty. I tried +to tell myself that I had been dreaming, but I knew that the tale +wasn't true. Some one had been stealthily bending down close, oh, so +close over me in the darkness. My hand that had touched the face +seemed to tingle. I asked myself with a shiver, what would have +happened to me if just at that moment I had not waked up? I stood +and listened, but the beating of my heart filled the whole room with +noise. I stole to the door and laid my ear against the panel. Oh, I +could easily have believed that one after another an army was +creeping on tiptoe past my door. At last I made up my mind. I flung +the door open wide. For a moment I stood back from it, but once the +door was open I heard nothing. I stole out to the head of the great +staircase. Below me the hall was as silent as an empty church. I +think that I should have heard a spider stir. I suddenly realised +that the light was streaming from my room and that some of it must +reach me. I cried at once, 'Who's there?' And then I ran back to my +room and locked myself in. I knew that I should sleep no more that +night. I ran to the windows and threw open the shutters. The night +had cleared, the stars were bright in a clean black sky and there was +a freshness of morning in the air. I had been, I should think, about +five minutes at the window when--you know perhaps, Monsieur, how the +clocks in Dijon clash out and take up the hour from one another and +pass it on to the hills--all of them struck three. I stayed by the +window until the morning came." + +After she had finished no one spoke for a little while. Then Hanaud +slowly lit another cigarette, looking now upon the ground, now into +the air, anywhere except at the faces of his companions. + +"So this alarming thing happened just before three o'clock in the +morning?" he asked gravely. "You are very sure of that, I suppose? +For, you see, it may be of the utmost importance." + +"I am quite sure, Monsieur," she said. + +"And you have told this story to no one until this moment?" + +"To no one in the world," replied Ann. "The next morning Madame +Harlowe was found dead. There were the arrangements for the funeral. +Then came Monsieur Boris's accusation. There were troubles enough in +the house without my adding to them. Besides, no one would have +believed my story of the face in the darkness; and I didn't of course +associate it then with the death of Mrs. Harlowe." + +"No," Hanaud agreed. "For you believed that death to have been +natural." + +"Yes, and I am not sure that it wasn't natural now," Ann protested. +"But to-day I had to tell you this story, Monsieur Hanaud"; and she +leaned forward in her chair and claimed his attention with her eyes, +her face, every tense muscle of her body. "Because if you are right +and murder was done in this house on the twenty-seventh, I know the +exact hour when it was done." + +"Ah!" + +Hanaud nodded his head once or twice slowly. He gathered up his feet +beneath him. His eyes glittered very brightly as he looked at Ann. +He gave Frobisher the queer impression of an animal crouching to +spring. + +"The clock upon the marquetry cabinet," he said, "against the middle +of the wall in the treasure-room. The white face of it and the hour +which leapt at you during that fraction of a second when your fingers +were on the switch." + +"Yes," said Ann with a slow and quiet emphasis. "The hour was +half-past ten." + +With that statement the tension was relaxed. Betty's +tightly-clenched hand opened and her trifle of a handkerchief +fluttered down on the grass. Hanaud changed from that queer attitude +of a crouching animal. Jim Frobisher drew a great breath of relief. + +"Yes, that is very important," said Hanaud. + +"Important. I should think it was!" cried Jim. + +For this was clear and proven to him. If murder had been done on the +night of the 27th of April, there was just one person belonging to +the household of the Maison Crenelle who could have no share in it; +and that one person was his client, Betty Harlowe. + +Betty was stooping to pick up her handkerchief when Hanaud spoke to +her; and she drew herself erect again with a little jerk. + +"Does that clock on the marquetry cabinet keep good time, +Mademoiselle?" he asked. + +"Very good," she answered. "Monsieur Sabin the watch-maker in the +Rue de la Liberté has had it more than once to clean. It is an +eight-day clock. It will be going when the seals are broken this +afternoon. You will see for yourself." + +Hanaud, however, accepted her declaration on the spot. He rose to +his feet and bowed to her with a certain formality but with a smile +which redeemed it. + +"At half-past ten Mademoiselle Harlowe was dancing at the house of M. +de Pouillac on the Boulevard Thiers," he said. "Of that there is no +doubt. Inquiries have been made. Mademoiselle did not leave that +house until after one in the morning. There is evidence enough of +that to convince her worst enemy, from her chauffeur and her dancing +partners to M. de Pouillac's coachman, who stood at the bottom of the +steps with a lantern during that evening and remembers to have held +open for Mademoiselle the door of her car when she went away." + +"So that's that," said Jim to himself. Betty at all events was out +of the net for good. And with that certainty there came a revolution +in his thoughts. Why shouldn't Hanaud's search go on? It was +interesting to watch the building up of this case against an unknown +criminal--a case so difficult to bring to its proper conclusion in +the Court of Assize, a case of poison where there was no trace of +poison, a case where out of a mass of conjectures, here and there and +more and more definite facts were coming into view; just as more and +more masts of ships stand up out of a tumbled sea, the nearer one +approaches land. Yes, now he wanted Hanaud to go on, delving +astutely, letting, in his own phrase, things disclose themselves in +their due sequence. But there was one point which Hanaud had missed, +which should be brought to his notice. The mouse once more, he +thought with all a man's vanity in his modesty, would come to the +help of the netted lion. He cleared his throat. + +"Miss Ann, there is one little question I would like to ask you," he +began, and Hanaud turned upon him, to his surprise, with a face of +thunder. + +"You wish to ask a question?" he said. "Well, Monsieur, ask it if +you wish. It is your right." + +His manner added, what his voice left unsaid, "and your +responsibility." Jim hesitated. He could see no harm in the +question he proposed to ask. It was of vital importance. Yet Hanaud +stood in front of him with a lowering face, daring him to put it. +Jim did not doubt any longer that Hanaud was quite aware of his point +and yet for some unknown reason objected to its disclosure. Jim +yielded, but not with a very good grace. + +"It is nothing," he said surlily, and Hanaud at once was all +cheerfulness again. + +"Then we will adjourn," he said, looking at his watch. "It is nearly +one o'clock. Shall we say three for the Commissary of Police? Yes? +Then I shall inform him and we will meet in the library at three +and"--with a little bow to Betty--"the interdict shall be raised." + +"At three, then," she said gaily. She sprang up from her chair, +stooped, picked up her handkerchief with a swift and supple movement, +twirled upon her heel and cried, "Come along, Ann!" + +The four people moved off towards the house. Betty looked back. + +"You have left your gloves behind you on your chair," she said +suddenly to Hanaud. Hanaud looked back. + +"So I have," he said, and then in a voice of protest, "Oh, +Mademoiselle!" + +For Betty had already darted back and now returned dangling the +gloves in her hand. + +"Mademoiselle, how shall I thank you?" he asked as he took them from +her. Then he cocked his head at Frobisher, who was looking a little +stiff. + +"Ha! ha! my young friend," he said with a grin. "You do not like +that so much kindness should be shown me. No! You are looking very +proper. You have the poker in the back. But ask yourself this: +'What are youth and good looks compared with Hanaud?'" + +No, Jim Frobisher did not like Hanaud at all when the urchin got the +upper hand in him. And the worst of it was that he had no rejoinder. +He flushed very red, but he really had no rejoinder. They walked in +silence to the house, and Hanaud, picking up his hat and stick, took +his leave by the courtyard and the big gates. Ann drifted into the +library. Jim felt a touch upon his arm. Betty was standing beside +him with a smile of amusement upon her face. + +"You didn't really mind my going back for his gloves, did you?" she +asked. "Say you didn't, Jim!" and the amusement softened into +tenderness. "I wouldn't have done it for worlds if I had thought +you'd have minded." + +Jim's ill-humour vanished like mist on a summer morning. + +"Mind?" he cried. "You shall pin a rose in his button-hole if it +pleases you, and all I'll say will be, 'You might do the same for +me'!" + +Betty laughed and gave his arm a friendly squeeze. + +"We are friends again, then," she said, and the next moment she was +out on the steps under the glass face of the porch. "Lunch at two, +Ann!" she cried. "I must walk all the grime of this morning out of +my brain." + +She was too quick and elusive for Jim Frobisher. She had something +of Ariel in her conception--a delicate creature of fire and spirit +and air. She was across the courtyard and out of sight in the street +of Charles-Robert before he had quite realised that she was going. +He turned doubtfully towards the library, where Ann Upcott stood in +the doorway. + +"I had better follow her," he said, reaching for his hat + +Ann smiled and shook her head wisely. + +"I shouldn't. I know Betty. She wants to be alone." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I am sure." + +Jim twiddled his hat in his hands, not half as sure upon the point as +she was. Ann watched him with a rather rueful smile for a little +while. Then she shrugged her shoulders in a sudden exasperation. + +"There is something you ought to do," she said. "You ought to let +Monsieur Bex, Betty's notary here, know that the seals are to be +broken this afternoon. He ought to be here. He was here when they +were affixed. Besides, he has all the keys of Mrs. Harlowe's drawers +and cupboards." + +"That's true," Jim exclaimed. "I'll go at once." + +Ann gave him Monsieur Bex's address in the Place Etienne Dolet, and +from the window of the library watched him go upon his errand. She +stood at the window for a long while after he had disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN: _A New Suspect_ + +Monsieur Bex the notary came out into the hall of his house when +Frobisher sent his card in to him. He was a small, brisk man with a +neat pointed beard, his hair cut _en brosse_ and the corner of his +napkin tucked into his neck between the flaps of his collar. + +Jim explained that the seals were to be removed from the rooms of the +Maison Grenelle, but said nothing at all of the new developments +which had begun with the discovery of the book of the arrows. + +"I have had communications with Messrs. Frobisher and Haslitt," the +little man exclaimed. "Everything has been as correct as it could +possibly be. I am happy to meet a partner of so distinguished a +firm. Yes. I will certainly present myself at three with my keys +and see the end of this miserable scandal. It has been a disgrace. +That young lady so delicious and so correct! And that animal of a +Waberski! But we can deal with him. We have laws in France." + +He gave Jim the impression that there were in his opinion no laws +anywhere else, and he bowed his visitor into the street. + +Jim returned by the Rue des Godrans and the main thoroughfare of the +town, the street of Liberty. As he crossed the semicircle of the +Place d'Armes in front of the Hôtel de Ville, he almost ran into +Hanaud smoking a cigar. + +"You have lunched already?" he cried. + +"An affair of a quarter of an hour," said Hanaud with a wave of the +hand. "And you?" + +"Not until two. Miss Harlowe wanted a walk." + +Hanaud smiled. + +"How I understand that! The first walk after an ordeal! The first +walk of a convalescent after an operation! The first walk of a +defendant found innocent of a grave charge! It must be worth taking, +that walk. But console yourself, my friend, for the postponement of +your luncheon. You have met me!" and he struck something of an +attitude. + +Now Jim had the gravest objection to anything theatrical, especially +when displayed in public places, and he answered stiffly, "That is a +pleasure, to be sure." + +Hanaud grinned. To make Jim look "proper" was becoming to him an +unfailing entertainment. + +"Now I reward you," he said, though for what Jim could not imagine. +"You shall come with me. At this hour, on the top of old Philippe le +Bon's Terrace Tower, we shall have the world to ourselves." + +He led the way into the great courtyard of the Hôtel de Ville. +Behind the long wing which faced them, a square, solid tower rose a +hundred and fifty feet high above the ground. With Frobisher at his +heels, Hanaud climbed the three hundred and sixteen steps and emerged +upon the roof into the blue and gold of a cloudless May in France. +They looked eastwards, and the beauty of the scene took Frobisher's +breath away. Just in front, the slender apse of Notre Dame, fine as +a lady's ornament, set him wondering how in the world through all +these centuries it had endured; and beyond, rich and green and +wonderful, stretched the level plain with its shining streams and +nestling villages. + +Hanaud sat down upon a stone bench and stretched out his arm across +the parapet. "Look!" he cried eagerly, proudly. "There is what I +brought you here to see. Look!" + +Jim looked and saw, and his face lit up. Far away on the horizon's +edge, unearthly in its beauty, hung the great mass of Mont Blanc; +white as silver, soft as velvet, and here and there sparkling with +gold as though the flame of a fire leaped and sank. + +"Oho!" said Hanaud as he watched Jim's face. "So we have that in +common. You perhaps have stood on the top of that mountain?" + +"Five times," Jim answered, with a smile made up of many memories. +"I hope to do so again." + +"You are fortunate," said Hanaud a little enviously. "For me I see +him only in the distance. But even so--if I am troubled--it is like +sitting silent in the company of a friend." + +Jim Frobisher's mind strayed back over memories of snow slope and +rock ridge. It was a true phrase which Hanaud had used. It +expressed one of the many elusive, almost incommunicable emotions +which mountains did mean to the people who had "that"--the passion +for mountains--in common. Jim glanced curiously at Hanaud. + +"You are troubled about this case, then?" he said sympathetically. +The distant and exquisite vision of that soaring arc of silver and +velvet set in the blue air had brought the two men into at all events +a momentary brotherhood. + +"Very," Hanaud returned slowly, without turning his eyes from the +horizon, "and for more reasons than one. What do you yourself think +of it?" + +"I think, Monsieur Hanaud," Jim said dryly, "that you do not like any +one to ask any questions except yourself." + +Hanaud laughed with an appreciation of the thrust. + +"Yes, you wished to ask a question of the beautiful Mademoiselle +Upcott. Tell me if I have guessed aright the question you meant to +ask! It was whether the face she touched in the darkness was the +smooth face of a woman or the face of a man." + +"Yes. That was it." + +It was now for Hanaud to glance curiously and quickly at Jim. There +could be no doubt of the thought which was passing through his mind: +"I must begin to give you a little special attention, my friend." +But he was careful not to put his thoughts into words. + +"I did not want that question asked," he said. + +"Why?" + +"Because it was unnecessary, and unnecessary questions are confusing +things which had best be avoided altogether." + +Jim did not believe one word of that explanation. He had too clear a +recollection of the swift movement and the look with which Hanaud had +checked him. Both had been unmistakably signs of alarm. Hanaud +would not have been alarmed at the prospect of a question being +asked, merely because the question was superfluous. There was +another and, Jim was sure, a very compelling reason in Hanaud's mind. +Only he could not discover it. + +Besides, was the question superfluous? + +"Surely," Hanaud replied. "Suppose that that young lady's hand had +touched in the darkness the face of a man with its stubble, its tough +skin, and the short hair of his head around it, bending down so low +over hers, would not that have been the most vivid, terrifying thing +to her in all the terrifying incident? Stretching out her hands +carelessly above her head, she touches suddenly, unexpectedly, the +face of a man? She could not have told her story at all without +telling that. It would have been the unforgettable detail, the very +heart of her terror. She touched the face of a man!" + +Jim recognised that the reasoning was sound, but he was no nearer to +the solution of his problem--why Hanaud so whole-heartedly objected +to the question being asked. And then Hanaud made a quiet remark +which drove it for a long time altogether out of Jim's speculations. + +"Mademoiselle Ann touched the face of a woman in the darkness that +night--if that night, in the darkness she touched a face at all." + +Jim was utterly startled. + +"You believe that she was lying to us?" he cried. + +Hanaud shook a protesting hand in the air. + +"I believe nothing," he said. "I am looking for a criminal." + +"Ann Upcott!" Jim spoke the name in amazement. "Ann Upcott!" Then +he remembered the look of her as she had told her story, her face +convulsed with terror, her shaking tones. "Oh, it's impossible that +she was lying. Surely no one could have so mimicked fear?" + +Hanaud laughed. + +"You may take this from me, my friend. All women who are great +criminals are also very artful actresses. I never knew one who +wasn't." + +"Ann Upcott!" Jim Frobisher once more exclaimed, but now with a +trifle less of amazement. He was growing slowly and gradually +accustomed to the idea. Still--that girl with the radiant look of +young Spring! Oh, no! + +"Ann Upcott was left nothing in Mrs. Harlowe's will," he argued. +"What could she have to gain by murder?" + +"Wait, my friend! Look carefully at her story! Analyse it. You +will see--what? That it falls into two parts." Hanaud ground the +stump of his cigar beneath his heel, offered one of his black +cigarettes to Jim Frobisher and lighted one for himself. He lit it +with a sulphur match which Jim thought would never stop fizzling, +would never burst into flame. + +"One part when she was alone in her bedroom--a little story of terror +and acted very effectively, but after all any one could invent it. +The other part was not so easy to invent. The communicating door +open for no reason, the light beyond, the voice that whispered, 'That +will do,' the sound of the struggle! No, my friend, I don't believe +that was invented. There were too many little details which seemed +to have been lived through. The white face of the clock and the hour +leaping at her. No! I think all that must stand. But adapt it a +little. See! This morning Waberski told us a story of the Street of +Gambetta and of Jean Cladel!" + +"Yes," said Jim. + +"And I asked you afterwards whether Waberski might not be telling a +true story of himself and attributing it to Mademoiselle Harlowe?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, interpret Ann Upcott's story in the same way," continued +Hanaud. "Suppose that sometime that day she had unlocked the +communicating door! What more easy? Madame Harlowe was up during +the day-time. Her room was empty. And that communicating door +opened not into Madame's bedroom, where perhaps it might have been +discovered whether it was locked or not, but into a dressing-room." + +"Yes," Jim agreed. + +"Well then, continue! Ann Upcott is left alone after Mademoiselle +Harlowe's departure to Monsieur de Pouillac's Ball. She sends Gaston +to bed. The house is all dark and asleep. Suppose then that she is +joined by--some one--some one with the arrow poison all ready in the +hypodermic needle. That they enter the treasure-room just as Ann +Upcott described. That she turns on the light for a second +whilst--some one--crosses the treasure-room and opens the door. +Suppose that the voice which whispered, 'That will do now,' was the +voice of Ann Upcott herself and that she whispered it across Madame +Harlowe's body to the third person in that room!" + +"The 'some one,'" exclaimed Jim. "But, who then? Who?" + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. "Why not Waberski?" + +"Waberski?" cried Jim with a new excitement in his voice. + +"You asked me what had Ann Upcott to gain by this murder and you +answered your own question. Nothing you said, Monsieur Frobisher, +but did your quick answer cover the ground? Waberski--he at all +events expected a fine fat legacy. What if he in return for help +proposed to share that fine fat legacy with the exquisite +Mademoiselle Ann. Has she no motive now? In the end what do we know +of her at all except that she is the paid companion and therefore +poor? Mademoiselle Ann!"; and he threw up his hands. "Where does +she spring from? How did she come into that house? Was she perhaps +Waberski's friend?"--and a cry from Jim brought Hanaud to a stop. + +Jim had thought of Waberski as the possible murderer if murder had +been done--a murderer who, disappointed of his legacy, the profits of +his murder, had carried on his villainy to blackmail and a false +accusation. But he had not associated Ann Upcott with him until +those moments on the Terrace Tower. Yet now memories began to crowd +upon him. The letter to him, for instance. She had said that +Waberski had claimed her support and ridiculed his claim. Might that +letter not have been a blind and a rather cunning blind? Above all +there was a scene passing vividly through his mind which was very +different from the scene spread out before his eyes, a scene of +lighted rooms and a crowd about a long green table, and a fair +slender girl seated at the table, who lost and lost until the whole +of her little pile of banknotes was swept in by the croupier's rake, +and then turned away with a high carriage but a quivering lip. + +"Aha!" said Hanaud keenly. "You know something after all of Ann +Upcott, my friend. What do you know?" + +Jim hesitated. At one moment it did not seem fair to her that he +should relate his story. Explained, it might wear so different a +complexion. At another moment that it would be fairer to let her +explain it. And there was Betty to consider. Yes, above all there +was Betty to consider. He was in Dijon on her behalf. + +"I will tell you," he said to Hanaud. "When I saw you in Paris, I +told you that I had never seen Ann Upcott in all my life. I believed +it. It wasn't until she danced into the library yesterday morning +that I realised I had misled you. I saw Ann Upcott at the _trente et +quarante_ table at the Sporting Club in Monte Carlo in January of +this year. I sat next to her. She was quite alone and losing her +money. Nothing would go right for her. She bore herself proudly and +well. The only sign I saw of distress was the tightening of her +fingers about her little handbag, and a look of defiance thrown at +the other players when she rose after her last coup, as though she +dared them to pity her. I was on the other hand winning, and I +slipped a thousand-franc note off the table on to the floor, keeping +my heel firmly upon it as you can understand. And as the girl turned +to move out from the crowd I stopped her. I said in English, for she +was obviously of my race, 'This is yours. You have dropped it on the +floor.' She gave me a smile and a little shake of the head. I think +that for the moment she dared not trust her lips to speak, and in a +second, of course, she was swallowed up in the crowd. I played for a +little while longer. Then I too rose and as I passed the entrance to +the bar on my way to get my coat, this girl rose up from one of the +many little tables and spoke to me. She called me by my name. She +thanked me very prettily and said that although she had lost that +evening she was not really in any trouble. I doubted the truth of +what she said. For she had not one ring upon any finger, not the +tiniest necklace about her throat, not one ornament upon her dress or +in her hair. She turned away from me at once and went back to the +little table where she sat down again in the company of a man. The +girl of course was Ann Upcott, the man Waberski. It was from him no +doubt that she had got my name." + +"Did this little episode happen before Ann Upcott became a member of +the household?" Hanaud asked. + +"Yes," replied Jim. "I think she joined Mrs. Harlowe and Betty at +Monte Carlo. I think that she came with them back to Dijon." + +"No doubt," said Hanaud. He sat for a little while in silence. Then +he said softly, "That does not look so very well for Mademoiselle +Ann." + +Jim had to admit that it did not. + +"But consider this, Monsieur Hanaud," he urged. "If Ann Upcott, +which I will not believe, is mixed up in this affair, why should she +of her own free will volunteer this story of what she heard upon the +night of the twenty-seventh and invent that face which bent down over +her in the darkness?" + +"I have an idea about that," Hanaud replied. "She told us this +story--when? After I had said that we must have the seals broken +this afternoon and the rooms thrown open. It is possible that we may +come upon something in those rooms which makes it wise for her to +divert suspicion upon some other woman in the house. Jeanne Baudin, +or even Mademoiselle Harlowe's maid Francine Rollard." + +"But not Mademoiselle Betty," Jim interposed quickly. + +"No, no!" Hanaud returned with a wave of his hand. "The clock upon +the marquetry cabinet settled that. Mademoiselle Betty is out of the +affair. Well, this afternoon we shall see. Meanwhile, my friend, +you will be late for your luncheon." + +Hanaud rose from the bench and with a last look at the magical +mountain, that outpost of France, they turned towards the city. + +Jim Frobisher looked down upon tiny squares green with limes and the +steep gaily-patterned roofs of ancient houses. About him the fine +tapering spires leapt high like lances from the slates of its many +churches. A little to the south and a quarter of a mile away across +the roof tops he saw the long ridge of a big house and the smoke +rising from a chimney stack or two and behind it the tops of tall +trees which rippled and shook the sunlight from their leaves. + +"The Maison Crenelle!" he said. + +There was no answer, not even the slightest movement at his side. + +"Isn't it?" he asked and he turned. + +Hanaud had not even heard him. He was gazing also towards the Maison +Crenelle with the queerest look upon his face; a look with which Jim +was familiar in some sort of association, but which for a moment or +two he could not define. It was not an expression of amazement. On +the other hand interest was too weak a word. Suddenly Jim Frobisher +understood and comprehension brought with it a sense of discomfort. +Hanaud's look, very bright and watchful and more than a little +inhuman, was just the look of a good retriever dog when his master +brings out a gun. + +Jim looked again at the high ridge of the house. The slates were +broken at intervals by little gabled windows, but at none of them +could he see a figure. From none of them a signal was waved. + +"What is it that you are looking at?" asked Jim in perplexity and +then with a touch of impatience. "You see something, I'm sure." + +Hanaud heard his companion at last. His face changed in a moment, +lost its rather savage vigilance, and became the face of a buffoon. + +"Of course I see something. Always I see something. Am I not +Hanaud? Ah, my friend, the responsibility of being Hanaud! Aren't +you fortunate to be without it? Pity me! For the Hanauds must see +something everywhere--even when there is nothing to see. Come!" + +He bustled out of the sunlight on that high platform into the dark +turret of the staircase. The two men descended the steps and came +out again into the semi-circle of the Place d'Armes. + +"Well!" said Hanaud and then "Yes," as though he had some little +thing to say and was not quite sure whether he would say it. Then he +compromised. "You shall take a Vermouth with me before you go to +your luncheon," he said. + +"I should be late if I did," Frobisher replied. + +Hanaud waved the objection aside with a shake of his outstretched +forefinger. + +"You have plenty of time, Monsieur. You shall take a Vermouth with +me, and you will still reach the Maison Crenelle before Mademoiselle +Harlowe. I say that, Hanaud," he said superbly, and Jim laughed and +consented. + +"I shall plead your vanity as my excuse when I find her and Ann +Upcott half through their meal." + +A café stands at the corner of the street of Liberty and the Place +d'Armes, with two or three little tables set out on the pavement +beneath an awning. They sat down at one of them, and over the +Vermouth, Hanaud was once more upon the brink of some recommendation +or statement. + +"You see----" he began and then once more ran away. "So you have +been five times upon the top of the Mont Blanc!" he said. "From +Chamonix?" + +"Once," Jim replied. "Once from the Col du Géant by the Brenva +glacier. Once by the Dôme route. Once from the Brouillard glacier. +And the last time by the Mont Mandit." + +Hanaud listened with genuine friendliness and said: + +"You tell me things which are interesting and very new to me," he +said warmly. "I am grateful, Monsieur." + +"On the other hand," Jim answered dryly, "you, Monsieur, tell me very +little. Even what you brought me to this café to say, you are going +to keep to yourself. But for my part I shall not be so churlish. I +am going to tell you what I think." + +"Yes?" + +"I think we have missed the way." + +"Oh?" + +Hanaud selected a cigarette from his bundle in its bright blue +wrapping. + +"You will perhaps think me presumptuous in saying so." + +"Not the least little bit in the world," Hanaud replied seriously. +"We of the Police are liable in searching widely to overlook the +truth under our noses. That is our danger. Another angle of +view--there is nothing more precious. I am all attention." + +Jim Frobisher drew his chair closer to the round table of iron and +leaned his elbows upon it. + +"I think there is one question in particular which we must answer if +we are to discover whether Mrs. Harlowe was murdered, and if so by +whom." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"I agree," he said slowly. "But I wonder whether we have the same +question in our minds." + +"It is a question which we have neglected. It is this--Who put back +the Professor's treatise on Sporanthus in its place upon the +bookshelf in the library, between mid-day yesterday and this morning." + +Hanaud struck another of his abominable matches, and held it in the +shelter of his palm until the flame shone. He lit his cigarette and +took a few puffs at it. + +"No doubt that question is important," he admitted, although in +rather an off-hand way. "But it is not mine. No. I think there is +another more important still. I think if we could know why the door +of the treasure-room, which had been locked since Simon Harlowe's +death, was unlocked on the night of the twenty-seventh of April, we +should be very near to the whole truth of this dark affair. But," +and he flung out his hands, "that baffles me." + +Jim left him sitting at the table and staring moodily upon the +pavement, as if he hoped to read the answer there. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE: _The Breaking of the Seals_ + +A few minutes later Jim Frobisher had to admit that Hanaud guessed +very luckily. He would not allow that it was more than a guess. +Monsieur Hanaud might be a thorough little Mr. Know-All; but no +insight, however brilliant, could inform him of so accidental a +circumstance. But there the fact was. Frobisher did arrive at the +Maison Crenelle, to his great discomfort, before Betty Harlowe. He +had loitered with Hanaud at the café just so that this might not take +place. He shrank from being alone with Ann Upcott now that he +suspected her. The most he could hope to do was to conceal the +reason of his trouble. The trouble itself in her presence he could +not conceal. She made his case the more difficult perhaps by a +rather wistful expression of sympathy. + +"You are distressed," she said gently. "But surely you need not be +any longer. What I said this morning was true. It was half-past ten +when that dreadful whisper reached my ears. Betty was a mile away +amongst her friends in a ball-room. Nothing can shake that." + +"It is not on her account that I am troubled," he cried, and Ann +looked at him with startled eyes. + +Betty crossed the court and joined them in the hall before Ann could +ask a question; and throughout their luncheon he made conversation +upon indifferent subjects with rapidity, if without entertainment. + +Fortunately there was no time to spare. They were still indeed +smoking their cigarettes over their coffee when Gaston informed them +that the Commissary of Police with his secretary was waiting in the +library. + +"This is Mr. Frobisher, my solicitor in London," said Betty as she +presented Jim. + +The Commissary, Monsieur Girardot, was a stout, bald, middle-aged man +with a pair of folding glasses sitting upon a prominent fat nose; his +secretary, Maurice Thevenet, was a tall good-looking novice in the +police administration, a trifle flashy in his appearance, and in his +own esteem, one would gather, rather a conqueror amongst the fair. + +"I have asked Monsieur Bex, Mademoiselle's notary in Dijon, to be +present," said Jim. + +"That is quite in order," replied the Commissary, and Monsieur Bex +was at that moment announced. He came on the very moment of three. +The clock was striking as he bowed in the doorway. Everything was +just as it should be. Monsieur Bex was pleased. + +"With Monsieur le Commissaire's consent," he said, smiling, "we can +now proceed with the final ceremonies of this affair." + +"We wait for Monsieur Hanaud," said the Commissary. + +"Hanaud?" + +"Hanaud of the Sûrété of Paris, who has been invited by the Examining +Magistrate to take charge of this case," the Commissary explained. + +"Case?" cried Monsieur Bex in perplexity. "But there is no case for +Hanaud to take charge of;" and Betty Harlowe drew him a little aside. + +Whilst she gave the little notary some rapid summary of the incidents +of the morning, Jim went out of the room into the hall in search of +Hanaud. He saw him at once; but to his surprise Hanaud came forward +from the back of the hall as if he had entered the house from the +garden. + +"I sought you in the dining-room," he said, pointing to the door of +that room which certainly was at the back of the house behind the +library, with its entrance behind the staircase. "We will join the +others." + +Hanaud was presented to Monsieur Bex. + +"And this gentleman?" asked Hanaud, bowing slightly to Thevenet. + +"My secretary, Maurice Thevenet," said the Commissary, and in a loud +undertone, "a charming youth, of an intelligence which is surprising. +He will go far." + +Hanaud looked at Thevenet with a friendly interest. The young +recruit gazed at the great man with kindling eyes. + +"This will be an opportunity for me, Monsieur Hanaud, by which, if I +do not profit, I prove myself of no intelligence at all," he said +with a formal modesty which quite went to the heart of Monsieur Bex. + +"That is very correct," said he. + +Hanaud for his part was never averse to flattery. He cocked an eye +at Jim Frobisher; he shook the secretary warmly by the hand. + +"Then don't hesitate to ask me questions, my young friend," he +answered. "I am Hanaud now, yes. But I was once young Maurice +Thevenet without, alas! his good looks." + +Maurice Thevenet blushed with the most becoming diffidence. + +"That is very kind," said Monsieur Bex. + +"This looks like growing into a friendly little family party," Jim +Frobisher thought, and he quite welcomed a "Hum" and a "Ha" from the +Commissary. + +He moved to the centre of the room. + +"We, Girardot, Commissaire of Police, will now remove the seals," he +said pompously. + +He led the way from the Library across the hall and along the +corridor to the wide door of Mrs. Harlowe's bedroom. He broke the +seals and removed the bands. Then he took a key from the hand of his +secretary and opened the door upon a shuttered room. The little +company of people surged forward. Hanaud stretched out his arms and +barred the way. + +"Just for a moment, please!" he ordered and over his shoulder Jim +Frobisher had a glimpse of the room which made him shiver. + +This morning in the garden some thrill of the chase had made him for +a moment eager that Hanaud should press on, that development should +follow upon development until somewhere a criminal stood exposed. +Since the hour, however, which he had spent upon the Tower of the +Terrace, all thought of the chase appalled him and he waited for +developments in fear. This bedroom mistily lit by a few stray +threads of daylight which pierced through the chinks of the shutters, +cold and silent and mysterious, was for him peopled with phantoms, +whose faces no one could see, who struggled dimly in the shadows. +Then Hanaud and the Commissary crossed to the windows opposite, +opened them and flung back the shutters. The clear bright light +flooded every corner in an instant and brought to Jim Frobisher +relief. The room was swept and clean, the chairs ranged against the +wall, the bed flat and covered with an embroidered spread; everywhere +there was order; it was as empty of suggestion as a vacant bedroom in +an hotel. + +Hanaud looked about him. + +"Yes," he said. "This room stood open for a week after Madame's +funeral. It would have been a miracle if we discovered anything +which could help us." + +He went to the bed, which stood with its head against the wall midway +between the door and the windows. A small flat stand with a button +of enamel lay upon the round table by the bed-side, and from the +stand a cord ran down by the table leg and disappeared under the +carpet. + +"This is the bell into what was the maid's bedroom, I suppose," he +said, turning towards Betty. + +"Yes." + +Hanaud stooped and minutely examined the cord. But there was no sign +that it had ever been tampered with. He stood up again. + +"Mademoiselle, will you take Monsieur Girardot into Jeanne Baudin's +bedroom and close the door. I shall press this button, and you will +know whether the bell rings whilst we here shall be able to assure +ourselves whether sounds made in one of the rooms would be heard in +the other." + +"Certainly." + +Betty took the Commissary of Police away, and a few seconds later +those in Mrs. Harlowe's room heard a door close in the corridor. + +"Will you shut our door now, if you please?" Hanaud requested. + +Bex, the notary, closed it. + +"Now, silence, if you please!" + +Hanaud pressed the button, and not a sound answered him. He pressed +it again and again with the same result. The Commissary returned to +the bedroom. + +"Well?" Hanaud asked. + +"It rang twice," said the Commissary. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. + +"And an electric bell has a shrill, penetrating sound," he cried. +"Name of a name, but they built good houses when the Maison Crenelle +was built! Are the cupboards and drawers open?" + +He tried one and found it locked. Monsieur Bex came forward. + +"All the drawers were locked on the morning when Madame Harlowe's +death was discovered. Mademoiselle Harlowe herself locked them in my +presence and handed to me the keys for the purpose of making an +inventory. Mademoiselle was altogether correct in so doing. For +until the funeral had taken place the terms of the will were not +disclosed." + +"But afterwards, when you took the inventory you must have unlocked +them." + +"I have not yet begun the inventory, Monsieur Hanaud. There were the +arrangements for the funeral, a list of the properties to be made for +valuation, and the vineyards to be administered." + +"Oho," cried Hanaud alertly. "Then these wardrobes and cupboards and +drawers should hold exactly what they held on the night of the +twenty-seventh of April." He ran quickly about the room trying a +door here, a drawer there, and came to a stop beside a cupboard +fashioned in the thickness of the wall. "The trouble is that a child +with a bent wire could unlock any one of them. Do you know what +Madame Harlowe kept in this, Monsieur Bex?" and Hanaud rapped with +his knuckles upon the cupboard door. + +"No, I have no idea. Shall I open it?" and Bex produced a bunch of +keys from his pocket. + +"Not for the moment, I think," said Hanaud. + +He had been dawdling over the locks and the drawers, as though time +meant nothing to him at all. He now swung briskly back into the +centre of the room, making notes, it seemed to Frobisher, of its +geography. The door opening from the corridor faced, across the +length of the floor, the two tall windows above the garden. If one +stood in the doorway facing these two windows, the bed was on the +left hand. On the corridor side of the bed, a second smaller door, +which was half open, led to a white-tiled bath-room. On the window +side of the bed was the cupboard in the wall about the height of a +woman's shoulders. A dressing-table stood between the windows, a +great fire-place broke the right-hand wall, and in that same wall, +close to the right-hand window, there was yet another door. Hanaud +moved to it. + +"This is the door of the dressing-room?" he asked of Ann Upcott, and +without waiting for an answer pushed it open. + +Monsieur Bex followed upon his heels with his keys rattling. +"Everything here has been locked up too," he said. + +Hanaud paid not the slightest attention. He opened the shutters. + +It was a narrow room without any fire-place at all, and with a door +exactly opposite to the door by which Hanaud had entered. He went at +once to this door. + +"And this must be the communicating door which leads into what is +called the treasure-room," he said, and he paused with his hand upon +the knob and his eyes ranging alertly over the faces of the company. + +"Yes," said Ann Upcott. + +Jim was conscious of a queer thrill. He thought of the opening of +some newly-discovered tomb of a Pharaoh in a hill-side of the Valley +of Kings. Suspense passed from one to the other as they waited, but +Hanaud did not move. He stood there impassive and still like some +guardian image at the door of the tomb. Jim felt that he was never +going to move, and in a voice of exasperation he cried: + +"Is the door locked?" + +Hanaud replied in a quiet but a singular voice. No doubt he, too, +felt that strange current of emotion and expectancy which bound all +in the room under a spell, and even gave to their diverse faces for a +moment a kind of family similitude. + +"I don't know yet whether it's locked or not," he said. "But since +this room is now the private sitting-room of Mademoiselle Harlowe, I +think that we ought to wait until she rejoins us." + +Monsieur Bex just had time to remark with approval, "That is very +correct," before Betty's fresh, clear voice rang out from the doorway +leading to Mrs. Harlowe's bedroom: + +"I am here." + +Hanaud turned the handle. The door was not locked. It opened at a +touch--inwards towards the group of people and upwards towards the +corridor. The treasure-room was before them, shrouded in dim light, +but here and there a beam of light sparkled upon gold and held out a +promise of wonders. Hanaud picked his way daintily to the windows +and fastened the shutters back against the outside wall. "I beg that +nothing shall be touched," he said as the others filed into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN: _Simon Harlowe's Treasure-room_ + +Like the rest of the reception-rooms along the corridor, it was +longer than it was broad and more of a gallery than a room. But it +had been arranged for habitation rather than for occasional visits. +For it was furnished with a luxurious comfort and not over-crowded. +In the fawn-coloured panels of the walls a few exquisite pictures by +Fragonard had been framed; on the writing-table of Chinese +Chippendale by the window every appointment, ink-stand, pen-tray, +candlestick, sand-caster and all were of the pink Battersea enamel +and without a flaw. But they were there for use, not for exhibition. +Moreover a prominent big fire-place in the middle of the wall on the +side of the hall, jutted out into the room and gave it almost the +appearance of two rooms in communication, The one feature of the +room, indeed, which at a first glimpse betrayed the collector, was +the Sedan chair set in a recess of the wall by the fire-place and +opposite to the door communicating with Mrs. Harlowe's bedroom. Its +body was of a pale French grey in colour, with elaborately carved +mouldings in gold round the panels and medallions representing +fashionable shepherds and shepherdesses daintily painted in the +middle of them. It had glass windows at the sides to show off the +occupant, and it was lined with pale grey satin, embroidered in gold +to match the colour of the panels. The roof, which could be raised +upon a hinge at the back, was ornamented with gold filigree work, and +it had a door in front of which the upper part was glass. Altogether +it was as pretty a gleaming piece of work as the art of +carriage-building could achieve, and a gilt rail very fitly protected +it. Even Hanaud was taken by its daintiness. He stood with his +hands upon the rail examining it with a smile of pleasure, until Jim +began to think that he had quite forgotten the business which had +brought him there. However, he brought himself out of his dream with +a start. + +"A pretty world for rich people, Monsieur Frobisher," he said. "What +pictures of fine ladies in billowy skirts and fine gentlemen in silk +stockings! And what splashings of mud for the unhappy devils who had +to walk!" + +He turned his back to the chair and looked across the room. "That is +the clock which marked half-past ten, Mademoiselle, during the moment +when you had the light turned up?" he asked of Ann. + +"Yes," she answered quickly. Then she looked at it again. "Yes, +that's it." + +Jim detected or fancied that he detected a tiny change in her +intonation, as she repeated her assurance, not an inflexion of +doubt--it was not marked enough for that--but of perplexity. It was +clearly, however, fancy upon his part, for Hanaud noticed nothing at +all. Jim pulled himself up with an unspoken remonstrance. "Take +care!" he warned himself. "For once you begin to suspect people, +they can say and do nothing which will not provide you with material +for suspicion." + +Hanaud was without doubt satisfied. The clock was a beautiful small +gilt clock of the Louis Quinze period, shaped with a waist like a +violin; it had a white face, and it stood upon a marquetry Boulle +cabinet, a little more than waist high, in front of a tall Venetian +mirror. Hanaud stood directly in front of it and compared it with +his watch. + +"It is exact to the minute, Mademoiselle," he said to Betty, with a +smile as he replaced his watch in his pocket. + +He turned about, so that he stood with his back to the clock. He +faced the fire-place across the narrow neck of the room. It had an +Adam mantelpiece, fashioned from the same fawn-coloured wood as the +panels, with slender pillars and some beautiful carving upon the +board beneath the shelf. Above the shelf one of the Fragonards was +framed in the wall and apparently so that nothing should mask it, +there were no high ornaments at all upon the shelf itself. One or +two small boxes of Battersea enamel and a flat glass case alone +decorated it. Hanaud crossed to the mantelshelf and, after a +moment's inspection, lifted, with a low whistle of admiration, the +flat glass case. + +"You will pardon me, Mademoiselle," he said to Betty. "But I shall +probably never in my life have the luck to see anything so +incomparable again. And the mantel-shelf is a little high for me to +see it properly." + +Without waiting for the girl's consent he carried it towards the +window. + +"Do you see this, Monsieur Frobisher?" he called out, and Jim went +forward to his side. + +The case held a pendant wrought in gold and chalcedony and +translucent enamels by Benvenuto Cellini. Jim acknowledged that he +had never seen craftsmanship so exquisite and delicate, but he chafed +none the less at Hanaud's diversion from his business. + +"One could spend a long day in this room," the detective exclaimed, +"admiring these treasures." + +"No doubt," Jim replied dryly. "But I had a notion that we were +going to spend an afternoon looking for an arrow." + +Hanaud laughed. + +"My friend, you recall me to my duty." He looked at the jewel again +and sighed. "Yes, as you say, we are not visitors here to enjoy +ourselves." + +He carried the case back again to the mantelshelf and replaced it. +Then all at once his manner changed. He was leaning forward with his +hands still about the glass case. But he was looking down. The +fire-grate was hidden from the room by a low screen of blue lacquer; +and Hanaud, from the position in which he stood, could see over the +screen into the grate itself. + +"What is all this?" he asked. + +He lifted the screen from the hearth and put it carefully aside. All +now could see what had disturbed him--a heap of white ashes in the +grate. + +Hanaud went down upon his knees and picking up the shovel from the +fender he thrust it between the bars and drew it out again with a +little layer of the ashes upon it. They were white and had been +pulverised into atoms. There was not one flake which would cover a +finger-nail. Hanaud touched them gingerly, as though he had expected +to find them hot. + +"This room was sealed up on Sunday morning and to-day is Thursday +afternoon," said Jim Frobisher with heavy sarcasm. "Ashes do not as +a rule keep hot more than three days, Monsieur Hanaud." + +Maurice Thevenet looked at Frobisher with indignation. He was daring +to make fun of Hanaud! He treated the Sûrété with no more respect +than one might treat--well, say Scotland Yard. + +Even Monsieur Bex had an air of disapproval. For a partner of the +firm of Frobisher & Haslitt this gentleman was certainly not very +correct. Hanaud on the contrary was milk and water. + +"I have observed it," he replied mildly, and he sat back upon his +heels with the shovel still poised in his hands. + +"Mademoiselle!" he called; and Betty moved forward and leaned against +the mantelshelf at his side. "Who burnt these papers so very +carefully?" he asked. + +"I did," Betty replied. + +"And when?" + +"On Saturday night, a few, and the rest on Sunday morning, before +Monsieur le Commissaire arrived." + +"And what were they, Mademoiselle?" + +"Letters, Monsieur." + +Hanaud looked up into her face quickly. + +"Oho!" he said softly. "Letters! Yes! And what kind of letters, if +you please?" + +Jim Frobisher was for throwing up his hands in despair. What in the +world had happened to Hanaud? One moment he forgot altogether the +business upon which he was engaged in his enjoyment of Simon +Harlowe's collection. The next he was off on his wild-goose chase +after anonymous letters. Jim had not a doubt that he was thinking of +them now. One had only to say "letters," and he was side-tracked at +once, apparently ready to accuse any one of their authorship. + +"They were quite private letters," Betty replied, whilst the colour +slowly stained her cheeks. "They will not help you." + +"So I see," Hanaud returned, with just a touch of a snarl in his +voice as he shook the shovel and flung the ashes back into the grate. +"But I am asking you, Mademoiselle, what kind of letters these were." + +Betty did not answer. She looked sullenly down at the floor, and +then from the floor to the windows; and Jim saw with a stab of pain +that her eyes were glistening with tears. + +"I think, Monsieur Hanaud, that we have come to a point when +Mademoiselle and I should consult together," he interposed. + +"Mademoiselle would certainly be within her rights," said Monsieur +Bex. + +But Mademoiselle waived her rights with a little petulant movement of +her shoulders. + +"Very well." + +She showed her face now to them all, with the tears abrim in her big +eyes, and gave Jim a little nod of thanks and recognition. + +"You shall be answered, Monsieur Hanaud," she said with a catch in +her voice. "It seems that nothing, however sacred, but must be +dragged out into the light. But I say again those letters will not +help you." + +She looked across the group to her notary. + +"Monsieur Bex," she said, and he moved forward to the other side of +Hanaud. + +"In Madame's bedroom between her bed and the door of the bathroom +there stood a small chest in which she kept a good many unimportant +papers, such as old receipted bills, which it was not yet wise to +destroy. This chest I took to my office after Madame's death, of +course with Mademoiselle's consent, meaning to go through the papers +at my leisure and recommend that all which were not important should +be destroyed. My time, however, was occupied, as I have already +explained to you, and it was not until the Friday of the sixth of May +that I opened the chest at all. On the very top I saw, to my +surprise, a bundle of letters in which the writing had already faded, +tied together with a ribbon. One glance was enough to assure me that +they were very private and sacred things with which Mademoiselle's +notary had nothing whatever to do. Accordingly, on the Saturday +morning, I brought them back myself to Mademoiselle Betty." + +With a bow Monsieur Bex retired and Betty continued the story. + +"I put the letters aside so that I might read them quietly after +dinner. As it happened I could not in any case have given them +attention before. For on that morning Monsieur Boris formulated his +charge against me, and in the afternoon I was summoned to the Office +of the Examining Magistrate. As you can understand, I was--I don't +say frightened--but distressed by this accusation; and it was not +until quite late in the evening, and then rather to distract my +thoughts than for any other reason, that I looked at the letters. +But as soon as I did look at them I understood that they must be +destroyed. There were reasons, which"--and her voice faltered, and +with an effort again grew steady--"which I feel it rather a sacrilege +to explain. They were letters which passed between my uncle Simon +and Mrs. Harlowe during the time when she was very unhappily married +to Monsieur Raviart and living apart from him--sometimes long +letters, sometimes little scraps of notes scribbled off--without +reserve--during a moment of freedom. They were the letters of," and +again her voice broke and died away into a whisper, so that none +could misunderstand her meaning--"of lovers--lovers speaking very +intimate things, and glorying in their love. Oh, there was no doubt +that they ought to be destroyed! But I made up my mind that I ought +to read them, every one, first of all lest there should be something +in them which I ought to know. I read a good many that night and +burnt them. But it grew late--I left the rest until the Sunday +morning. I finished them on the Sunday morning, and what I had left +over I burnt then. It was soon after I had finished burning them +that Monsieur le Commissaire came to affix his seals. The ashes +which you see there, Monsieur Hanaud, are the ashes of the letters +which I burnt upon the Sunday morning." + +Betty spoke with a very pretty and simple dignity which touched her +audience to a warm sympathy. Hanaud gently tilted the ashes back +into the grate. + +"Mademoiselle, I am always in the wrong with you," he said with an +accent of remorse. "For I am always forcing you to statements which +make me ashamed and do you honour." + +Jim acknowledged that Hanaud, when he wished, could do the handsome +thing with a very good grace. Unfortunately grace seemed never to be +an enduring quality in him; as, for instance, now. He was still upon +his knees in front of the hearth. Whilst making his apology he had +been raking amongst the ashes with the shovel without giving, to all +appearance, any thought to what he was doing. But his attention was +now arrested. The shovel had disclosed an unburnt fragment of +bluish-white paper. Hanaud's body stiffened. He bent forward and +picked the scrap of paper out from the grate, whilst Betty, too, +stooped with a little movement of curiosity. + +Hanaud sat back again upon his heels. + +"So! You burnt more than letters last Sunday morning," he said. + +Betty was puzzled and Hanaud held out to her the fragment of paper. + +"Bills too, Mademoiselle." + +Betty took the fragment in her hand and shook her head over it. It +was obviously the right-hand top corner of a bill. For an intriguing +scrap of a printed address was visible and below a figure or two in a +column. + +"There must have been a bill or two mixed up with the letters," said +Betty. "I don't remember it." + +She handed the fragment of paper back to Hanaud, who sat and looked +at it. Jim Frobisher standing just behind him read the printed ends +of names and words and the figures beneath and happened to remember +the very look of them, Hanaud held them so long in his hand; the top +bit of name in large capital letters, the words below echelonned in +smaller capitals, then the figures in the columns and all enclosed in +a rough sort of triangle with the diagonal line browned and made +ragged by the fire--thus-- + + ERON + STRUCTION + LLES + IS + ======== + 375.05 + + +"Well, it is of no importance luckily," said Hanaud and he tossed the +scrap of paper back into the grate. "Did you notice these ashes, +Monsieur Girardot, on Sunday morning?" He turned any slur the +question might seem to cast upon Betty's truthfulness with an +explanation. + +"It is always good when it is possible to get a corroboration, +Mademoiselle." + +Betty nodded, but Girardot was at a loss. He managed to look +extremely important, but importance was not required. + +"I don't remember," he said. + +However, corroboration of a kind at all events did come though from +another source. + +"If I might speak, Monsieur Hanaud?" said Maurice Thevenet eagerly. + +"But by all means," Hanaud replied. + +"I came into this room just behind Monsieur Girardot on the Sunday +morning. I did not see any ashes in the hearth, that is true. But +Mademoiselle Harlowe was in the act of arranging that screen of blue +lacquer in front of the fireplace, just as we saw it to-day. She +arranged it, and when she saw who her visitors were she stood up with +a start of surprise." + +"Aha!" said Hanaud cordially. He smiled at Betty. "This evidence is +just as valuable as if he had told us that he had seen the ashes +themselves." + +He rose to his feet and went close to her. + +"But there is another letter which you were good enough to promise to +me," he said. + +"The an----" she began and Hanaud stopped her hurriedly. + +"It is better that we hold our tongues," he said with a nod and a +grin which recognised that in this matter they were accomplices. +"This is to be our exclusive little secret, which, if he is very +good, we will share with Monsieur le Commissaire." + +He laughed hugely at his joke, whilst Betty unlocked a drawer in the +Chippendale secretary. Girardot the Commissaire tittered, not quite +sure that he thought very highly of it. Monsieur Bex, on the other +hand, by a certain extra primness of his face, made it perfectly +clear that in his opinion such a jape was very, very far from correct. + +Betty produced a folded sheet of common paper and handed it to +Hanaud, who took it aside to the window and read it carefully. Then +with a look he beckoned Girardot to his side. + +"Monsieur Frobisher can come too. For he is in the secret," he +added; and the three men stood apart at the window looking at the +sheet of paper. It was dated the 7th of May, signed "The Scourge," +like the others of this hideous brood, and it began without any +preface. There were only a few words typed upon it, and some of them +were epithets not to be reproduced which made Jim's blood boil that a +girl like Betty should ever have had to read them. + + + "_Your time is coming now, you----_" and here followed the string + of abominable obscenities. "_You are for it, Betty Harlowe. + Hanaud the detective from Paris is coming to look after you with + his handcuffs in his pocket. You'll look pretty in handcuffs, + won't you, Betty? It's your white neck we want! Three cheers + for Waberski? The Scourge._" + + +Girardot stared at the brutal words and settled his glasses on his +nose and stared again. + +"But--but----" he stammered and he pointed to the date. A warning +gesture made by Hanaud brought him to a sudden stop, but Frobisher +had little doubt as to the purport of that unfinished exclamation. +Girardot was astonished, as Hanaud himself had been, that this item +of news had so quickly leaked abroad. + +Hanaud folded the letter and turned back into the room. + +"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said to Betty, and Thevenet the +secretary took his notebook from his pocket. + +"Shall I make you a copy of the letter, Monsieur Hanaud?" he said, +sitting down and holding out his hand. + +"I wasn't going to give it back," Hanaud answered, "and a copy at the +present stage isn't necessary. A little later on I may ask for your +assistance." + +He put the letter away in his letter-case, and his letter-case away +in his breast-pocket. When he looked up again he saw that Betty was +holding out to him a key. + +"This unlocks the cabinet at the end of the room," she said. + +"Yes! Let us look now for the famous arrow, or we shall have +Monsieur Frobisher displeased with us again," said Hanaud. + +The cabinet stood against the wall at the end of the room opposite to +the windows, and close to the door which opened on to the hall. +Hanaud took the key, unlocked the door of the cabinet and started +back with a "Wow." He was really startled, for facing him upon a +shelf were two tiny human heads, perfect in feature, in hair, in +eyes, but reduced to the size of big oranges. They were the heads of +Indian tribesmen killed upon the banks of the Amazon, and preserved +and reduced by their conquerors by the process common amongst those +forests. + +"If the arrow is anywhere in this room, it is here that we should +find it," he said, but though he found many curious oddities in that +cabinet, of the perfect specimen of a poison arrow there was never a +trace. He turned away with an air of disappointment. + +"Well then, Mademoiselle, there is nothing else for it," he said +regretfully; and for an hour he searched that room, turning back the +carpet, examining the upholstery of the chairs, and the curtains, +shaking out every vase, and finally giving his attention to Betty's +secretary. He probed every cranny of it; he discovered the simple +mechanism of its secret drawers; he turned out every pigeon-hole; +working with extraordinary swiftness and replacing everything in its +proper place. At the end of the hour the room was as orderly as when +he had entered it; yet he had gone through it with a tooth comb. + +"No, it is not here," he said and he seated himself in a chair and +drew a breath. "But on the other hand, as the two ladies and +Monsieur Frobisher are aware, I was prepared not to find it here." + +"We have finished then?" said Betty, but Hanaud did not stir. + +"For a moment," he replied, "I shall be glad, Monsieur Girardot, if +you will remove the seals in the hall from the door at the end of the +room." + +The Commissary went out by the way of Mrs. Harlowe's bedroom, +accompanied by his secretary. After a minute had passed a key grated +in the lock and the door was opened. The Commissary and his +secretary returned into the room from the hall. + +"Good!" said Hanaud. + +He rose from this chair and looking around at the little group, now +grown puzzled and anxious, he said very gravely: + +"In the interest of justice I now ask that none of you shall +interrupt me by either word or gesture, for I have an experiment to +make." + +In a complete silence he walked to the fireplace and rang the bell. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN: _An Experiment and a Discovery_ + +Gaston answered the bell. + +"Will you please send Francine Rollard here," said Hanaud. + +Gaston, however, stood his ground. He looked beyond Hanaud to Betty. + +"If Mademoiselle gives me the order," he said respectfully. + +"At once then, Gaston," Betty replied, and she sat down in a chair. + +Francine Rollard was apparently difficult to persuade. For the +minutes passed, and when at last she did come into the treasure room +she was scared and reluctant. She was a girl hardly over twenty, +very neat and trim and pretty, and rather like some wild shy creature +out of the woods. She looked round the group which awaited her with +restless eyes and a sullen air of suspicion. But it was the +suspicion of wild people for townsfolk. + +"Rollard," said Hanaud gently, "I sent for you, for I want another +woman to help me in acting a little scene." + +He turned towards Ann Upcott. + +"Now, Mademoiselle, will you please repeat exactly your movements +here on the night when Madame Harlowe died? You came into the +room--so. You stood by the electric-light switch there. You turned +it on, you noticed the time, and you turned it off quickly. For this +communicating door stood wide open--so!--and a strong light poured +out of Madame Harlowe's bedroom through the doorway." + +Hanaud was very busy, placing himself first by the side of Ann to +make sure that she stood in the exact place which she had described, +and then running across the room to set wide open the communicating +door. + +"You could just see the light gleaming on the ornaments and panels of +the Sedan chair, on the other side of the fireplace on your right. +So! And there, Mademoiselle, you stood in the darkness and," his +words lengthened out now with tiny intervals between each one--"you +heard the sound of the struggle in the bedroom and caught some words +spoken in a clear whisper." + +"Yes," Ann replied with a shiver. The solemn manner of authority +with which he spoke obviously alarmed her. She looked at him with +troubled eyes. + +"Then will you stand there once more," he continued, "and once more +listen as you listened on that night. I thank you!" He went away to +Betty. "Now, Mademoiselle, and you, Francine Rollard, will you both +please come with me." + +He walked towards the communicating door but Betty did not even +attempt to rise from her chair. + +"Monsieur Hanaud," she said with her cheeks very white and her voice +shaking, "I can guess what you propose to do. But it is horrible and +rather cruel to us. And I cannot see how it will help." + +Ann Upcott broke in before Hanaud could reply. She was more troubled +even than Betty, though without doubt hers was to be the easier part. + +"It cannot help at all," she said. "Why must we pretend now the +dreadful thing which was lived then?" + +Hanaud turned about in the doorway. + +"Ladies, I beg you to let me have my way. I think that when I have +finished, you will yourselves understand that my experiment has not +been without its use. I understand of course that moments like these +bring their distress. But--you will pardon me--I am not thinking of +you"--and there was so much quietude and gravity in the detective's +voice that his words, harsh though they were, carried with them no +offence. "No, I am thinking of a woman more than double the age of +either of you, whose unhappy life came to an end here on the night of +the 27th of April. I am remembering two photographs which you, +Mademoiselle Harlowe, showed me this morning--I am moved by them. +Yes, that is the truth." + +He closed his eyes as if he saw those two portraits with their +dreadful contrast impressed upon his eyelids. "I am her advocate," +he cried aloud in a stirring voice. "The tragic woman, I stand for +her! If she was done to death, I mean to know and I mean to punish!" + +Never had Frobisher believed that Hanaud could have been so +transfigured, could have felt or spoken with so much passion. He +stood before them an erect and menacing figure, all his grossness +melted out of him, a man with a flaming sword. + +"As for you two ladies, you are young. What does a little distress +matter to you? A few shivers of discomfort? How long will they +last? I beg you not to hinder me!" + +Betty rose up from her chair without another word. But she did not +rise without an effort, and when she stood up at last she swayed upon +her feet and her face was as white as chalk. + +"Come, Francine!" she said, pronouncing her words like a person with +an impediment of speech. "We must show Monsieur Hanaud that we are +not the cowards he takes us for." + +But Francine still held back. + +"I don't understand at all. I am only a poor girl and this frightens +me. The police! They set traps--the police." + +Hanaud laughed. + +"And how often do they catch the innocent in them? Tell me that, +Mademoiselle Francine!" + +He turned almost contemptuously towards Mrs. Harlowe's bedroom. +Betty and Francine followed upon his heels, the others trooped in +behind, with Frobisher last of all. He indeed was as reluctant to +witness Hanaud's experiment as the girls were to take a part in it. +It savoured of the theatrical. There was to be some sort of imagined +reproduction of the scene which Ann Upcott had described, no doubt +with the object of testing her sincerity. It would really be a test +of nerves more than a test of honesty and to Jim was therefore +neither reliable nor fair play. He paused in the doorway to say a +word of encouragement to Ann, but she was gazing again with that +curious air of perplexity at the clock upon the marquetry cabinet. + +"There is nothing to fear, Ann," he said, and she withdrew her eyes +from the clock. They were dancing now as she turned them upon +Frobisher. + +"I wondered whether I should ever hear you call me by my name," she +said with a smile. "Thank you, Jim!" She hesitated and then the +blood suddenly mounted into her face. "I'll tell you, I was a little +jealous," she added in a low voice and with a little laugh at herself +as though she was a trifle ashamed of the confession. + +Jim was luckily spared the awkwardness of an answer by the appearance +of Hanaud in the doorway. + +"I hate to interrupt, Monsieur Frobisher," he said with a smile; "but +it is of a real importance that Mademoiselle should listen without +anything to distract her." + +Jim followed Hanaud into the bedroom, and was startled. The +Commissary and his secretary and Monsieur Bex were in a group apart +near to one of the windows. Betty Harlowe was stretched upon Mrs. +Harlowe's bed; Francine Rollard stood against the wall, near to the +door, clearly frightened out of her wits and glancing from side to +side with the furtive restless eyes of the half-tamed. But it was +not this curious spectacle which so surprised Jim Frobisher, but +something strange, something which almost shocked, in the aspect of +Betty herself. She was leaning up on an elbow with her eyes fixed +upon the doorway and the queerest, most inscrutable fierce look in +them that he had ever seen. She was quite lost to her environment. +The experiment from which Francine shrank had no meaning for her. +She was possessed--the old phrase leapt into Jim's thoughts--though +her face was as still as a mass, a mask of frozen passion. It was +only for a second, however, that the strange seizure lasted. Betty's +face relaxed; she dropped back upon the bed with her eyes upon Hanaud +like one waiting for instructions. + +Hanaud, by pointing a finger, directed Jim to take his place amongst +the group at the window. He placed himself upon one side of the bed, +and beckoned to Francine. Very slowly she approached the end of the +bed. Hanaud directed her in the same silent way to come opposite to +him on the other side of the bed. For a little while Francine +refused. She stood stubbornly shaking her head at the very foot of +the bed. She was terrified of some trick, and when at last at a sign +from Betty she took up the position assigned to her, she minced to it +gingerly as though she feared the floor would open beneath her feet. +Hanaud made her another sign and she looked at a scrap of paper on +which Hanaud had written some words. The paper and her orders had +obviously been given to her whilst Jim was talking to Ann Upcott. +Francine knew what she was to do, but her suspicious peasant nature +utterly rebelled against it. Hanaud beckoned to her with his eyes +riveted upon her compelling her, and against her will she bent +forwards over the bed and across Betty Harlowe's body. + +A nod from Hanaud now, and she spoke in a low, clear whisper: + +"That--will--do--now." + +And hardly had she spoken those few words which Ann Upcott said she +had heard on the night of Mrs. Harlowe's death, but Hanaud himself +must repeat them and also in a whisper. + +Having whispered, he cried aloud towards the doorway in his natural +voice: + +"Did you hear, Mademoiselle? Was that the whisper which reached your +ears on the night when Madame died?" + +All those in the bedroom waited for the answer in suspense. Francine +Rollard, indeed, with her eyes fixed upon Hanaud in a very agony of +doubt. And the answer came. + +"Yes, but whoever whispered, whispered twice this afternoon. On the +night when I came down in the dark to the treasure room, the words +were only whispered once." + +"It was the same voice which whispered them twice, Mademoiselle?" + +"Yes ... I think so ... I noticed no difference ... Yes." + +And Hanaud flung out his arms with a comic gesture of despair, and +addressed the room. + +"You understand now my little experiment. A voice that whispers! +How shall one tell it from another voice that whispers! There is no +intonation, no depth, no lightness. There is not even sex in a voice +which whispers. We have no clue, no, not the slightest to the +identity of the person who whispered, 'That will do now,' on the +night when Madame Harlowe died." He waved his hand towards Monsieur +Bex. "I will be glad if you will open now these cupboards, and +Mademoiselle Harlowe will tell us, to the best of her knowledge, +whether anything has been taken or anything disturbed." + +Hanaud returned to the treasure room, leaving Monsieur Bex and Betty +at their work, with the Commissary and his secretary to supervise +them. Jim Frobisher followed him. He was very far from believing +that Hanaud had truthfully explained the intention of his experiment. +The impossibility of identifying a voice which whispers! Here was +something with which Hanaud must have been familiar from a hundred +cases! No, that interpretation would certainly not work. There was +quite another true reason for this melodramatic little scene which he +had staged. He was following Hanaud in the hope of finding out that +reason, when he heard him speaking in a low voice, and he stopped +inside the dressing-room close to the communicating door where he +could hear every word and yet not be seen himself. + +"Mademoiselle," Hanaud was saying to Ann Upcott, "there is something +about this clock here which troubles you." + +"Yes--of course it's nonsense.... I must be wrong.... For here is +the cabinet and on it stands the clock." + +Jim could gather from the two voices that they were both standing +together close to the marquetry cabinet. + +"Yes, yes," Hanaud urged. "Still you are troubled." + +There was a moment's silence. Jim could imagine the girl looking +from the clock to the door by which she had stood, and back again +from the door to the clock. Surely that scene in the bedroom had +been staged to extort some admission from Ann Upcott of the falsity +of her story. Was he now, since the experiment had failed, resorting +to another trick, setting a fresh trap? + +"Well?" he asked insistently. "Why are you troubled?" + +"It seems to me," Ann replied in a voice of doubt, "that the clock is +lower now than it was. Of course it can't be ... and I had only one +swift glimpse of it.... Yet my recollection is so vivid--the room +standing out revealed in the moment of bright light, and then +vanishing into darkness again.... Yes, the clock seemed to me to be +placed higher..." and suddenly she stopped as if a warning hand had +been laid upon her arm. Would she resume? Jim was still wondering +when silently, like a swift animal, Hanaud was in the doorway and +confronting him. + +"Yes, Monsieur Frobisher," he said with an odd note of relief in his +voice, "we shall have to enlist you in the Sûrété very soon. That I +can see. Come in!" + +He took Jim by the arm and led him into the room. + +"As for that matter of the clock, Mademoiselle, the light goes up and +goes out--it would have been a marvel if you had within that flash of +vision seen every detail precisely true. No, there is nothing +there!" He flung himself into a chair and sat for a little while +silent in an attitude of dejection. + +"You said this morning to me, Monsieur, that I had nothing to go +upon, that I was guessing here, and guessing there, stirring up old +troubles which had better be left quietly in their graves, and at the +end discovering nothing. Upon my word, I believe you are right! My +little experiment! Was there ever a failure more abject?" + +Hanaud sat up alertly. + +"What is the matter?" he asked. + +Jim Frobisher had had a brain wave. The utter disappointment upon +Hanaud's face and in his attitude had enlightened him. Yes, his +experiment had failed. For it was aimed at Francine Rollard. He had +summoned her without warning, he had bidden her upon the instant to +act a scene, nay, to take the chief part in it, in the hope that it +would work upon her and break her down to a confession of guilt. He +suspected Ann. Well, then, Ann must have had an accomplice. To +discover the accomplice--there was the object of the experiment. And +it had failed abjectedly, as Hanaud himself confessed. Francine had +shrunk from the ordeal, no doubt, but the reason of the shrinking was +manifest--fear of the police, suspicion of a trap, the furtive +helplessness of the ignorant. She had not delivered herself into +Hanaud's toils. But not a word of this conjecture did Jim reveal to +Hanaud. To his question what was the matter, he answered simply: + +"Nothing." + +Hanaud beat with the palms of his hands upon the arms of his chair. + +"Nothing, eh? nothing! That's the only answer in this case. To +every question! To every search! Nothing, nothing, nothing;" and as +he ended in a sinking voice, a startled cry rang out in the bedroom. + +"Betty!" Ann exclaimed. + +Hanaud threw off his dejection like an overcoat. Jim fancied that he +was out of his chair and across the dressing-room before the sound of +the cry had ceased. Certainly Betty could not have moved. She was +standing in front of the dressing-table, looking down at a big +jewel-case of dark blue morocco leather, and she was lifting up and +down the open lid of it with an expression of utter incredulity. + +"Aha!" said Hanaud. "It is unlocked. We have something, after all, +Monsieur Frobisher. Here is a jewel-case unlocked, and jewel-cases +do not unlock themselves. It was here?" + +He looked towards the cupboard in the wall, of which the door stood +open. + +"Yes," said Betty. "I opened the door, and took the case out by the +side handles. The lid came open when I touched it." + +"Will you look through it, please, and see whether anything is +missing?" + +While Betty began to examine the contents of the jewel-case, Hanaud +went to Francine, who stood apart. He took her by the arm and led +her to the door. + +"I am sorry if I frightened you, Francine," he said. "But, after +all, we are not such alarming people, the Police, eh? No, so long as +good little maids hold their good little tongues, we can be very good +friends. Of course, if there is chatter, little Francine, and +gossip, little Francine, and that good-looking baker's boy is +to-morrow spreading over Dijon the story of Hanaud's little +experiment, Hanaud will know where to look for the chatterers." + +"Monsieur, I shall not say one word," cried Francine. + +"And how wise that will be, little Francine!" Hanaud rejoined in a +horribly smooth and silky voice. "For Hanaud can be the wickedest of +wicked Uncles to naughty little chatterers. Ohhoho, yes! He seizes +them tight--so--and it will be ever so long before he says to them +'That--will--do--now!'" + +He rounded off his threats with a quite friendly laugh and gently +pushed Francine Rollard from the room. Then he returned to Betty, +who had lifted the tray out of the box and was opening some smaller +cases which had been lying at the bottom. The light danced upon +pendant and bracelet, buckle and ring, but Betty still searched. + +"You miss something, Mademoiselle?" + +"Yes." + +"It was, after all, certain that you would," Hanaud continued. "If +murders are committed, there will be some reason. I will even +venture to guess that the jewel which you miss is of great value." + +"It is," Betty admitted. "But I expect it has only been mislaid. No +doubt we shall find it somewhere, tucked away in a drawer." She +spoke with very great eagerness, and a note of supplication that the +matter should rest there. "In any case, what has disappeared is +mine, isn't it? And I am not going to imitate Monsieur Boris. I +make no complaint." + +Hanaud shook his head. + +"You are very kind, Mademoiselle. But we cannot, alas! say here +'That will do now.'" It was strange to Jim to notice how he kept +harping upon the words of that whisper. "We are not dealing with a +case of theft, but with a case of murder. We must go on. What is it +that you miss?" + +"A pearl necklace," Betty answered reluctantly. + +"A big one?" + +It was noticeable that as Betty's reluctance increased Hanaud became +more peremptory and abrupt. + +"Not so very." + +"Describe it to me, Mademoiselle!" + +Betty hesitated. She stood with a troubled face looking out upon the +garden. Then with a shrug of resignation she obeyed. + +"There were thirty-five pearls--not so very large, but they were +perfectly matched and of a beautiful pink. My uncle took a great +deal of trouble and some years to collect them. Madame told me +herself that they actually cost him nearly a hundred thousand pounds. +They would be worth even more now." + +"A fortune, then," cried Hanaud. + +Not a person in that room had any belief that the necklace would be +found, laid aside somewhere by chance. Here was Hanaud's case +building itself up steadily. Another storey was added to it this +afternoon. This or that experiment might fail. What did that +matter? A motive for the murder came to light now. Jim had an +intuition that nothing now could prevent a definite result; that the +truth, like a beam of light that travels for a million of years, +would in the end strike upon a dark spot, and that some one would +stand helpless and dazzled in a glare--the criminal. + +"Who knew of this necklace of yours, Mademoiselle, beside yourself?" +Hanaud asked. + +"Every one in the house, Monsieur. Madame wore it nearly always." + +"She wore it, then, on the day of her death?" + +"Yes, I----" Betty began, and she turned towards Ann for +confirmation, and then swiftly turned away again. "I think so." + +"I am sure of it," said Ann steadily, though her face had grown +rather white and her eyes anxious. + +"How long has Francine Rollard been with you?" Hanaud asked of Betty. + +"Three years. No--a little more. She is the only maid I have ever +had," Betty answered with a laugh. + +"I see," Hanaud said thoughtfully; and what he saw, it seemed to Jim +Frobisher that every one else in that room saw too. For no one +looked at Ann Upcott. Old servants do not steal valuable necklaces: +Ann Upcott and Jeanne Baudin, the nurse, were the only new-comers to +the Maison Crenelle these many years; and Jeanne Baudin had the best +of characters. Thus the argument seemed to run though no one +expressed it in words. + +Hanaud turned his attention to the lock of the cupboard, and shook +his head over it. Then he crossed to the dressing-table and the +morocco case. + +"Aha!" he said with a lively interest. "This is a different affair;" +and he bent down closely over it. + +The case was not locked with a key at all. There were three small +gilt knobs in the front of the case, and the lock was set by the +number of revolutions given to each knob. These, of course, could be +varied with each knob, and all must be known before the case could be +opened--Mrs. Harlowe's jewels had been guarded by a formula. + +"There has been no violence used here," said Hanaud, standing up +again. + +"Of course my aunt may have forgotten to lock the case," said Betty. + +"Of course that's possible," Hanaud agreed. + +"And of course this room was open to any one between the time of my +aunt's funeral and Sunday morning, when the doors were sealed." + +"A week, in fact--with Boris Waberski in the house," said Hanaud. + +"Yes ... yes," said Betty. "Only ... but I expect it is just mislaid +and we shall find it. You see Monsieur Boris expected to get some +money from my lawyers in London. No doubt he meant to make a bargain +with me. It doesn't look as if he had stolen it. He wouldn't want a +thousand pounds if he had." + +Jim had left Boris out of his speculations. He had recollected him +with a thrill of hope that he would be discovered to be the thief +when Hanaud mentioned his name. But the hope died away again before +the reluctant and deadly reasoning of Betty Harlowe. On the other +hand, if Boris and Ann were really accomplices in the murder, because +he wanted his legacy, the necklace might well have been Ann's share. +More and more, whichever way one looked at it, the facts pointed +damningly towards Ann. + +"Well, we will see if it has been mislaid," said Hanaud. "But +meanwhile, Mademoiselle, it would be well for you to lock that case +up and to take it some time this afternoon to your bankers." + +Betty shut down the lid and spun the knobs one after the other. +Three times a swift succession of sharp little clicks was heard in +the room. + +"You have not used, I hope, the combination which Madame Harlowe +used," said Hanaud. + +"I never knew the combination she used," said Betty. She lifted the +jewel-case back into its cupboard; and the search of the drawers and +the cupboards began. But it was as barren of result as had been the +search of the treasure-room for the arrow. + +"We can do no more," said Hanaud. + +"Yes. One thing more." + +The correction came quietly from Ann Upcott. She was standing by +herself, very pale and defiant. She knew now that she was suspected. +The very care with which every one had avoided even looking at her +had left her in no doubt. + +Hanaud looked about the room. + +"What more can we do?" he asked. + +"You can search my rooms." + +"No!" cried Betty violently. "I won't have it!" + +"If you please," said Ann. "It is only fair to me." + +Monsieur Bex nodded violently. + +"Mademoiselle could not be more correct," said he. + +Ann addressed herself to Hanaud. + +"I shall not go with you. There is nothing locked in my room except +a small leather dispatch-case. You will find the key to that in the +left-hand drawer of my dressing-table. I will wait for you in the +library." + +Hanaud bowed, and before he could move from his position Betty did a +thing for which Jim could have hugged her there and then before them +all. She went straight to Ann and set her arm about her waist. + +"I'll wait with you, Ann," she said. "Of course it's ridiculous," +and she led Ann out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN: _The Finding of the Arrow_ + +Ann's rooms were upon the second floor with the windows upon the +garden, a bedroom and a sitting-room communicating directly with one +another. They were low in the roof, but spacious, and Hanaud, as he +looked around the bedroom, said in a tone of doubt: + +"Yes ... after all, if one were frightened suddenly out of one's +wits, one might stumble about this room in the dark and lose one's +way to the light switch. There isn't one over the bed." Then he +shrugged his shoulders. "But, to be sure, one would be careful that +one's details could be verified. So----" and the doubt passed out of +his voice. + +The words were all Greek to the Commissary of Police and his +secretary and Monsieur Bex. Maurice Thevenet, indeed, looked sharply +at Hanaud, as if he was on the point of asking one of those questions +which he had been invited to ask. But Girardot, the Commissary who +was panting heavily with his ascent of two flights of stairs, spoke +first. + +"We shall find nothing to interest us here," he said. "That pretty +girl would never have asked us to pry about amongst her dainty +belongings if there had been anything to discover." + +"One never knows," replied Hanaud. "Let us see!" + +Jim walked away into the sitting-room. He had no wish to follow step +by step Hanaud and the Commissary in their search; and he had noticed +on the table in the middle of the room a blotting-pad and some +notepaper and the materials for writing. He wanted to get all this +whirl of conjecture and fact and lies, in which during the last two +days he had lived, sorted and separated and set in order in his mind; +and he knew no better way of doing so than by putting it all down +shortly in the "for" and "against" style of Robinson Crusoe on his +desert island. He would have a quiet hour or so whilst Hanaud +indefatigably searched. He took a sheet of paper, selected a pen at +random from the tray and began. It cost Ann Upcott, however, a good +many sheets of notepaper, and more than once the nib dropped out of +his pen-holder and was forced back into it before he had finished. +But he had his problem reduced at last to these terms: + + For Against + + (1) Although suspicion that But in the absence of any + murder had been committed trace of poison in the dead + arose in the first instance only woman's body, it is difficult to + from the return to its shelf of see how the criminal can be + the "Treatise on Sporanthus brought to justice, except by + Hispidus," subsequent developments, + e.g., the disappearance of (a) A confession. + the Poison Arrow, the introduction + into the case of the ill-famed (b) The commission of another + Jean Cladel, Ann Upcott's story crime of a similar kind. + of her visit to the Treasure Hanaud's theory--once a + Room, and now the mystery of poisoner always a poisoner. + Mrs. Harlowe's pearl necklace, + make out a prima facie case for + inquiry. + + (2) If murder was committed, Ann Upcott's story may be + it is probable that it was partly or wholly false. She + committed at half-past ten at night knew that Mrs. Harlowe's + when Ann Upcott in the Treasure bedroom was to be opened and + Room heard the sound of a examined. If she also knew that + struggle and the whisper, "That the pearl necklace had + will do now." disappeared, she must have realised + that it would be advisable for + her to tell some story before its + disappearance was discovered, + which would divert suspicion + from her. + + (3) It is clear that whoever It is possible that the + committed the murder, if murder disappearance of the necklace is in + was committed, Betty Harlowe no way connected with the + had nothing to do with it. She murder, if murder there was. + had an ample allowance. She + was at M. Pouillac's Ball on + the night. Moreover, once + Mrs. Harlowe was dead, the necklace + became Betty Harlowe's + property. Had she committed the + murder, the necklace would not + have disappeared. + + (4) Who then are possibly + guilty? + + (i) The servants. (i) All of them have many + years of service to their credit. + It is not possible that any of + them would have understood + enough of the "Treatise on + Sporanthus Hispidus" to make + use of it. If any of them were + concerned it can only be as an + accessory or assistant working + under the direction of another. + + (ii) Jeanne Baudin the nurse. No one suspects her. Her + record is good. + More attention might be given + to her. It is too easily accepted + that she has nothing to do + with it. + + (iii) Francine Rollard. She She was frightened of the police + was certainly frightened this as a class, rather than of being + afternoon. The necklace would accused of a crime. She acted + be a temptation. her part in the reconstruction + scene without breaking + Was it she who bent over Ann down. If she were concerned, it + Upcott in the darkness? could only be for the reason + given above, as an assistant. + + (iv) Ann Upcott. Her introductions may be + explicable on favourable grounds. + Her introduction into the Until we know more of her + Maison Crenelle took place history it is impossible to judge. + through Waberski and under + dubious circumstances. She is + poor, a paid companion, and the + necklace is worth a considerable + fortune. + + She was in the house on the Her account of the night of + night of Mrs. Harlowe's death. the 27th April may be true from + She told Gaston he could turn beginning to end. + out the lights and go to bed + early that evening. She could + easily have admitted Waberski + and received the necklace as the + price of her complicity. + + The story she told us in the In that case the theory of a + garden may have been the true murder is enormously strengthened. + story of what occurred adapted. But who whispered, "That + It may have been she who will do now"? And who was + whispered "That will do now." bending over Ann Upcott when + She may have whispered it to she waked up? + Waberski. + + Her connection with Waberski + was sufficiently close to make + him count upon Ann's support + in his charge against Betty. + + (v) Waberski. + + He is a scoundrel, a would-be + blackmailer. + + He was in straits for money + and he expected a thumping + legacy from Mrs. Harlowe. + + He may have brought Ann + Upcott into the house with the + thought of murder in his mind. + + Having failed to obtain any + profit from his crime, he accuses + Betty of the same crime as a + blackmailing proposition. + + As soon as he knew that But he would have collapsed + Mrs. Harlowe had been exhumed and equally if he had believed that + an autopsy made he collapsed. no murder had been committed + He knew, if he had used himself at all. + the poison arrow, that no trace + of poison would be found. + + He knew of Jean Cladel, and + according to his own story was + in the Rue Gambetta close to + Jean Cladel's shop. It is possible + that he himself had been visiting + Cladel to pay for the solution of + Strophanthus. + + +If murder was committed the two people most obviously suspect are Ann +Upcott and Waberski working in collusion. + +To this conclusion Jim Frobisher was reluctantly brought, but even +whilst writing it down there were certain questions racing through +his mind to which he could find no answer. He was well aware that he +was an utter novice in such matters as the investigation of crimes; +and he recognised that were the answers to these questions known to +him, some other direction might be given to his thoughts. + +Accordingly he wrote those troublesome questions beneath his +memorandum--thus: + +But + +(1) Why does Hanaud attach no importance to the return of the +"Treatise on Sporanthus Hispidus" to its place in the library? + +(2) What was it which so startled him upon the top of the Terrace +Tower? + +(3) What was it that he had in his mind to say to me at the Café in +the Place D'Armes and in the end did not say? + +(4) Why did Hanaud search every corner of the treasure room for the +missing poison arrow--except the interior of the Sedan chair? + +The noise of a door gently closing aroused him from his speculations. +He looked across the room. Hanaud had just entered it from the +bedroom, shutting the communicating door behind him. He stood with +his hand upon the door-knob gazing at Frobisher with a curious +startled stare. He moved swiftly to the end of the table at which +Jim was sitting. + +"How you help me!" he said in a low voice and smiling. "How you do +help me!" + +Alert though Jim's ears were to a note of ridicule, he could discover +not a hint of it. Hanaud was speaking with the utmost sincerity, his +eyes very bright and his heavy face quite changed by that uncannily +sharp expression which Jim had learned to associate with some new +find in the development of the case. + +"May I see what you have written?" Hanaud asked. + +"It could be of no value to you," Jim replied modestly, but Hanaud +would have none of it. + +"It is always of value to know what the other man thinks, and even +more what the other man sees. What did I say to you in Paris? The +last thing one sees one's self is the thing exactly under one's +nose"; and he began to laugh lightly but continuously and with a +great deal of enjoyment, which Jim did not understand. He gave in, +however, over his memorandum and pushed it along to Hanaud, ashamed +of it as something schoolboyish, but hopeful that some of these +written questions might be answered. + +Hanaud sat down at the end of the table close to Jim and read the +items and the questions very slowly with an occasional grunt, and a +still more occasional "Aha!" but with a quite unchanging face. Jim +was in two minds whether to snatch it from his hands and tear it up +or dwell upon its recollected phrases with a good deal of pride. One +thing was clear. Hanaud took it seriously. + +He sat musing over it for a moment or two. + +"Yes, here are questions, and dilemmas." He looked at Frobisher with +friendliness. "I shall make you an allegory. I have a friend who is +a matador in Spain. He told me about the bull and how foolish those +people are who think the bull not clever. Yes, but do not jump and +look the offence with your eyes and tell me how very vulgar I am and +how execrable my taste. All that I know very well. But listen to my +friend the matador! He says all that the bull wants, to kill without +fail all the bull-fighters in Spain, is a little experience. And +very little, he learns so quick. Look! Between the entrance of the +bull into the arena and his death there are reckoned twenty minutes. +And there should not be more, if the matador is wise. The bull--he +learns so quick the warfare of the ring. Well, I am an old bull who +has fought in the arena many times. This is your first corrida. But +only ten minutes of the twenty have passed. Already you have learned +much. Yes, here are some shrewd questions which I had not expected +you to ask. When the twenty are gone, you will answer them all for +yourself. Meanwhile"--he took up another pen and made a tiny +addition to item one--"I carry this on one step farther. See!" + +He replaced the memorandum under Jim's eyes. Jim read: + +"--subsequent developments, e.g., the disappearance of the Poison +Arrow, the introduction into the case of the ill-famed Jean Cladel, +Ann Upcott's story of her visit to the treasure-room, and now the +mystery of Mrs. Harlowe's pearl necklace, _and the finding of the +arrow_, make out a prima facie case for inquiry." + + +Jim sprang to his feet in excitement. + +"You have found the arrow, then?" he cried, glancing towards the door +of Ann Upcott's bedroom. + +"Not I, my friend," replied Hanaud with a grin. + +"The Commissaire, then?" + +"No, not the Commissaire." + +"His secretary, then?" + +Jim sat down again in his chair. + +"I am sorry. He wears cheap rings. I don't like him." + +Hanaud broke into a laugh of delight. + +"Console yourself! I, too, don't like that young gentleman of whom +they are all so proud. Maurice Thevenet has found nothing." + +Jim looked at Hanaud in a perplexity. + +"Here is a riddle," he said. + +Hanaud rubbed his hands together. + +"Prove to me that you have been ten minutes in the bull-ring," he +said. + +"I think that I have only been five," Jim replied with a smile. "Let +me see! The arrow had not been discovered when we first entered +these rooms?" + +"No." + +"And it is discovered now?" + +"Yes." + +"And it was not discovered by you?" + +"No." + +"Nor the Commissaire?" + +"No." + +"Nor Maurice Thevenet?" + +"No." + +Jim stared and shook his head. + +"I have not been one minute in the bull-ring. I don't understand." + +Hanaud's face was all alight with enjoyment. + +"Then I take your memorandum and I write again." + +He hid the paper from Jim Frobisher's eyes with the palm of his left +hand, whilst he wrote with his right. Then with a triumphant gesture +he laid it again before Jim. The last question of all had been +answered in Hanaud's neat, small handwriting. + +Jim read: + + + (4) Why did Hanaud search every corner of the treasure-room for + the missing Poison Arrow--except the interior of the Sedan chair? + + +Underneath the question Hanaud had written as if it was Jim Frobisher +himself who answered the question: + + + "It was wrong of Hanaud to forget to examine the Sedan chair, but + fortunately no harm has resulted from that lamentable omission. + For Life, the incorrigible Dramatist, had arranged that the head + of the arrow-shaft should be the pen-holder with which I have + written this memorandum." + + +Jim looked at the pen-holder and dropped it with a startled cry. + +There it was--the slender, pencil-like shaft expanding into a slight +bulb where the fingers held it, and the nib inserted into the tiny +cleft made for the stem of the iron dart! Jim remembered that the +nib had once or twice become loose and spluttered on the page, until +he had jammed it in violently. + +Then came a terrible thought. His jaw dropped; he stared at Hanaud +in awe. + +"I wonder if I sucked the end of it, whilst I was thinking out my +sentences," he stammered. + +"O Lord!" cried Hanaud, and he snatched up the pen-holder and rubbed +it hard with his pocket handkerchief. Then he spread out the +handkerchief upon the table, and fetching a small magnifying glass +from his pocket, examined it minutely. He looked up with relief. + +"There is not the least little trace of that reddish-brown clay which +made the poison paste. The arrow was scraped clean before it was put +on that tray of pens. I am enchanted. I cannot now afford to lose +my junior colleague." + +Frobisher drew a long breath and lit a cigarette, and gave another +proof that he was a very novice of a bull. + +"What a mad thing to put the head of that arrow-shaft, which a glance +at the plates in the Treatise would enable a child to identify, into +an open tray of pens without the slightest concealment!" he exclaimed. + +It looked as if Ann Upcott was wilfully pushing her neck into the +wooden ring of the guillotine. + +Hanaud shook his head. + +"Not so mad, my friend! The old rules are the best. Hide a thing in +some out-of-the-way corner, and it will surely be found. Put it to +lie carelessly under every one's nose and no one will see it at all. +No, no! This was cleverly done. Who could have foreseen that +instead of looking on at our search you were going to plump yourself +down in a chair and write your memorandum so valuable on Mademoiselle +Ann's notepaper? And even then you did not notice your pen. Why +should you?" + +Jim, however, was not satisfied. + +"It is a fortnight since Mrs. Harlowe was murdered, if she was +murdered," he cried. "What I don't understand is why the arrow +wasn't destroyed altogether!" + +"But until this morning there was never any question of the arrow," +Hanaud returned. "It was a curiosity, an item in a collection--why +should one trouble to destroy it? But this morning the arrow becomes +a dangerous thing to possess. So it must be hidden away in a hurry. +For there is not much time. An hour whilst you and I admired Mont +Blanc from the top of the Terrace Tower." + +"And while Betty was out of the house," Jim added quickly. + +"Yes--that is true," said Hanaud. "I had not thought of it. You can +add that point, Monsieur Frobisher, to the reasons which put +Mademoiselle Harlowe out of our considerations. Yes." + +He sat lost in thought for a little while and speaking now and then a +phrase rather to himself than to his companion: "To run up here--to +cut the arrow down--to round off the end as well as one can in a +hurry--to stain it with some varnish--to mix it with the other pens +in the tray. Not so bad!" He nodded his head in appreciation of the +trick. "But nevertheless things begin to look black for that +exquisite Mademoiselle Ann with her delicate colour and her pretty +ways." + +A noise of the shifting of furniture in the bedroom next door +attracted his attention. He removed the nib from the arrow-head. + +"We will keep this little matter to ourselves just for the moment," +he said quickly, and he wrapped the improvised pen-holder in a sheet +of the notepaper. "Just you and I shall know of it. No one else. +This is my case, not Girardot's. We will not inflict a great deal of +pain and trouble until we are sure." + +"I agree," said Jim eagerly. "That's right, I am sure." + +Hanaud tucked the arrow-head carefully away in his pocket. + +"This, too," he said, and he took up Jim Frobisher's memorandum. "It +is not a good thing to carry about, and perhaps lose. I will put it +away at the Prefecture with the other little things I have collected." + +He put the memorandum into his letter-case and got up from his chair. + +"The rest of the arrow-shaft will be somewhere in this room, no +doubt, and quite easy to see. But we shall not have time to look for +it, and, after all, we have the important part of it." + +He turned towards the mantelshelf, where some cards of invitation +were stuck in the frame of the mirror, just as the door was opened +and the Commissary with his secretary came out from the bedroom. + +"The necklace is not in that room," said Monsieur Girardot in a voice +of finality. + +"Nor is it here," Hanaud replied with an unblushing assurance. "Let +us go downstairs." + +Jim was utterly staggered. This room had not been searched for the +necklace at all. First the Sedan chair, then this sitting-room was +neglected. Hanaud actually led the way out to the stairs without so +much as a glance behind him. No wonder that in Paris he had styled +himself and his brethren the Servants of Chance. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN: _Hanaud Laughs_ + +At the bottom of the stairs Hanaud thanked the Commissary of Police +for his assistance. + +"As for the necklace, we shall of course search the baggage of every +one in the house," he said. "But we shall find nothing. Of that we +may be sure. For if the necklace has been stolen, too much time has +passed since it was stolen for us to hope to find it here." + +He bowed Girardot with much respect out of the house, whilst Monsieur +Bex took Jim Frobisher a little aside. + +"I have been thinking that Mademoiselle Ann should have some legal +help," he said. "Now both you and I are attached to the affairs of +Mademoiselle Harlowe. And--it is a little difficult to put it +delicately--it may be that the interests of those two young ladies +are not identical. It would not therefore be at all correct for me, +at all events, to offer her my services. But I can recommend a very +good lawyer in Dijon, a friend of mine. You see, it may be +important." + +Frobisher agreed. + +"It may be, indeed. Will you give me your friend's address?" he said. + +Whilst he was writing the address down Hanaud startled him by +breaking unexpectedly into a loud laugh. The curious thing was that +there was nothing whatever to account for it. Hanaud was standing by +himself between them and the front door. In the courtyard outside +there was no one within view. Within the hall Jim and Monsieur Bex +were talking very seriously in a low voice. Hanaud was laughing at +the empty air and his laughter betokened a very strong sense of +relief. + +"That I should have lived all these years and never noticed that +before," he cried aloud in a sort of amazement that there could be +anything capable of notice which he, Hanaud, had not noticed. + +"What is it?" asked Jim. + +But Hanaud did not answer at all. He dashed back through the hall +past Frobisher and his companion, vanished into the treasure-room, +closed the door behind him and actually locked it. + +Monsieur Bex jerked his chin high in the air. + +"He is an eccentric, that one. He would not do for Dijon." + +Jim was for defending Hanaud. + +"He must act. That is true," he replied. "Whatever he does and +however keenly he does it, he sees a row of footlights in front of +him." + +"There are men like that," Monsieur Bex agreed. Like all Frenchmen, +he was easy in his mind if he could place a man in a category. + +"But he is doing something which is quite important," Jim continued, +swelling a little with pride. He felt that he had been quite fifteen +minutes in the bull-ring. "He is searching for something somewhere. +I told him about it. He had overlooked it altogether. I reproached +him this morning with his reluctance to take suggestions from people +only too anxious to help him. But I did him obviously some +injustice. He is quite willing." + +Monsieur Bex was impressed and a little envious. + +"I must think of some suggestions to make to Hanaud," he said. "Yes, +yes! Was there not once a pearl necklace in England which was +dropped in a match-box into the gutter when the pursuit became too +hot? I have read of it, I am sure. I must tell Hanaud that he +should spend a day or two picking up the match-boxes in the gutters. +He may be very likely to come across that necklace of Madame +Harlowe's. Yes, certainly." + +Monsieur Bex was considerably elated by the bright idea which had +come to him. He felt that he was again upon a level with his English +colleague. He saw Hanaud pouncing his way along the streets of Dijon +and explaining to all who questioned him: "This is the idea of +Monsieur Bex, the notary. You know, Monsieur Bex, of the Place +Etienne Dolet." Until somewhere near--but Monsieur Bex had not +actually located the particular gutter in which Hanaud should +discover the match-box with the priceless beads, when the library +door opened and Betty came out into the hall. + +She looked at the two men in surprise. + +"And Monsieur Hanaud?" she asked. "I didn't see him go." + +"He is in your treasure-room," said Jim. + +"Oh!" Betty exclaimed in a voice which showed her interest. "He has +gone back there!" + +She walked quickly to the door and tried the handle. + +"Locked!" she cried with a little start of surprise. She spoke +without turning round. "He has locked himself in! Why?" + +"Because of the footlights," Monsieur Bex answered, and Betty turned +about and stared at him. "Yes, we came to that conclusion, Monsieur +Frobisher and I. Everything he does must ring a curtain down;" and +once more the key turned in the lock. + +Betty swung round again as the sound reached her ears and came face +to face with Hanaud. Hanaud looked over her shoulder at Frobisher +and shook his head ruefully. + +"You did not find it, then?" Jim asked. + +"No." + +Hanaud looked away from Jim to Betty Harlowe. + +"Monsieur Frobisher put an idea into my head, Mademoiselle. I had +not looked into that exquisite Sedan chair. It might well be that +the necklace had been hidden behind the cushions. But it is not +there." + +"And you locked the door, Monsieur," said Betty stiffly. "The door +of my room, I ask you to notice." + +Hanaud drew himself erect. + +"I did, Mademoiselle," he replied. "And then?" + +Betty hesitated with some sharp rejoinder on the tip of her tongue. +But she did not speak it. She shrugged her shoulders and said coldly +as she turned from him: + +"You are within your rights, no doubt, Monsieur." + +Hanaud smiled at her good-humouredly. He had offended her again. +She was showing him once more the petulant, mutinous child in her +which he had seen the morning before. But the smile did remain upon +his face. In the doorway of the library Ann Upcott was standing, her +face still very pale, and fires smouldering in her eyes. + +"You searched my rooms, I hope, Monsieur," she said in a challenging +voice. + +"Thoroughly, Mademoiselle." + +"And you did not find the necklace?" + +"No!" and he walked straight across the hall to her with a look +suddenly grown stern. + +"Mademoiselle, I should like you to answer me a question. But you +need not. I wish you to understand that. You have a right to +reserve your answers for the Office of the Examining Magistrate and +then give them only in the presence of and with the consent of your +legal adviser. Monsieur Bex will assure you that is so." + +The girl's defiance weakened. + +"What do you wish to ask me?" she asked. + +"Exactly how you came to the Maison Crenelle." + +The fire died out of her eyes; Ann's eyelids fluttered down. She +stretched out a hand against the jamb of the door to steady herself. +Jim wondered whether she guessed that the head of Simon Harlowe's +arrow was now hidden in Hanaud's pocket. + +"I was at Monte Carlo," she began and stopped. + +"And quite alone?" Hanaud continued relentlessly. + +"Yes." + +"And without money?" + +"With a little money," Ann corrected. + +"Which you lost," Hanaud rejoined. + +"Yes." + +"And at Monte Carlo you made the acquaintance of Boris Waberski?" + +"Yes." + +"And so you came to the Maison Crenelle?" + +"Yes." + +"It is all very curious, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud gravely, and "If +it were only curious!" Jim Frobisher wished with all his heart. For +Ann Upcott quailed before the detective's glance. It seemed to him +that with another question from him, an actual confession would +falter and stumble from her lips. A confession of complicity with +Boris Waberski! And then? Jim caught a dreadful glimpse of the +future which awaited her. The guillotine? Probably a fate much +worse. For that would be over soon and she at rest. A few poignant +weeks, an agony of waiting, now in an intoxication of hope, now in +the lowest hell of terror; some dreadful minutes at the breaking of a +dawn--and an end! That would be better after all than the endless +years of sordid heart-breaking labour, coarse food and clothes, +amongst the criminals of a convict prison in France. + +Jim turned his eyes away from her with a shiver of discomfort and saw +with a queer little shock that Betty was watching him with a singular +intentness; as if what interested her was not so much Ann's peril as +his feeling about it. + +Meanwhile Ann had made up her mind. + +"I shall tell you at once the little there is to tell," she declared. +The words were brave enough, but the bravery ended with the words. +She had provoked the short interrogatory with a clear challenge. She +ended it in a hardly audible whisper. However, she managed to tell +her story, leaning there against the post of the door. Indeed her +voice strengthened as she went on and once a smile of real amusement +flickered about her lips and in her eyes and set the dimples playing +in her cheeks. + +Up to eighteen months ago she had lived with her mother, a widow, in +Dorsetshire, a few miles behind Weymouth. The pair of them lived +with difficulty. For Mrs. Upcott found herself in as desperate a +position as England provides for gentlewomen. She was a small +landowner taxed up to her ears, and then rated over the top of her +head. Ann for her part was thought in the neighbourhood to have +promise as an artist. On the death of her mother the estate was sold +as a toy to a manufacturer, and Ann with a small purse and a +sack-load of ambitions set out for London. + +"It took me a year to understand that I was and should remain an +amateur. I counted over my money. I had three hundred pounds left. +What was I going to do with it? It wasn't enough to set me up in a +shop. On the other hand, I hated the idea of dependence. So I made +up my mind to have ten wild gorgeous days at Monte Carlo and make a +fortune, or lose the lot." + +It was then that the smile set her eyes dancing. + +"I should do the same again," she cried quite unrepentantly. "I had +never been out of England in my life, but I knew a good deal of +schoolgirl's French. I bought a few frocks and hats and off I went. +I had the most glorious time. I was nineteen. Everything from the +sleeping-cars to the croupiers enchanted me. I stayed at one of the +smaller hotels up the hill. I met one or two people whom I knew and +they introduced me into the Sporting Club. Oh, and lots and lots of +people wanted to be kind to me!" she cried. + +"That is thoroughly intelligible," said Hanaud dryly. + +"Oh, but quite nice people too," Ann rejoined. Her face was glowing +with the recollections of that short joyous time. She had forgotten, +for the moment, altogether the predicament in which she stood, or she +was acting with an artfulness which Hanaud could hardly have seen +surpassed in all his experience of criminals. + +"There was a croupier, for instance, at the trente-et-quarante table +in the big room of the Sporting Club. I always tried to sit next to +him. For he saw that no one stole my money and that when I was +winning I insured my stake and clawed a little off the heap from time +to time. I was there for five weeks and I had made four hundred +pounds--and then came three dreadful nights and I lost everything +except thirty pounds which I had stowed away in the hotel safe." She +nodded across the hall towards Jim. "Monsieur Frobisher can tell you +about the last night. For he sat beside me and very prettily tried +to make me a present of a thousand francs." + +Hanaud, however, was not to be diverted. + +"Afterwards he shall tell me," he said, and resumed his questions. +"You had met Waberski before that night?" + +"Yes, a fortnight before. But I can't remember who introduced me." + +"And Mademoiselle Harlowe?" + +"Monsieur Boris introduced me a day or two later to Betty at tea-time +in the lounge of the Hôtel de Paris." + +"Aha!" said Hanaud. He glanced at Jim with an almost imperceptible +shrug of the shoulders. It was, indeed, becoming more and more +obvious that Waberski had brought Ann Upcott into that household +deliberately, as part of a plan carefully conceived and in due time +to be fulfilled. + +"When did Waberski first suggest that you should join Mademoiselle +Harlowe?" he asked. + +"That last night," Ann replied. "He had been standing opposite to me +on the other side of the trente-et-quarante table. He saw that I had +been losing." + +"Yes," said Hanaud, nodding his head. "He thought that the opportune +moment had come." + +He extended his arms and let his hands fall against his thighs. He +was like a doctor presented with a hopeless case. He turned half +aside from Ann with his shoulders bent and his troubled eyes fixed +upon the marble squares of the floor. Jim could not but believe that +he was at this moment debating whether he should take the girl into +custody. But Betty intervened. + +"You must not be misled, Monsieur Hanaud," she said quickly, "It is +true no doubt that Monsieur Boris mentioned the subject to Ann for +the first time that night. But I had already told both my aunt and +Monsieur Boris that I should like a friend of my own age to live with +me and I had mentioned Ann." + +Hanaud looked up at her doubtfully. + +"On so short an acquaintance, Mademoiselle?" + +Betty, however, stuck to her guns. + +"Yes. I liked her very much from the beginning. She was alone. It +was quite clear that she was of our own world. There was every good +reason why I should wish for her. And the four months she has been +with me have proved to me that I was right." + +She crossed over to Ann with a defiant little nod at Hanaud, who +responded with a cordial grin and dropped into English. + +"So I can push that into my pipe and puff it, as my dear Ricardo +would say. That is what you mean? Well, against loyalty, the whole +world is powerless." As he made Betty a friendly bow. He could +hardly have told Betty in plainer phrase that her intervention had +averted Ann's arrest; or Ann herself that he believed her guilty. + +Every one in the hall understood him in that sense. They stood +foolishly looking here and looking there and not knowing where to +look; and in the midst of their discomfort occurred an incongruous +little incident which added a touch of the bizarre. Up the two steps +to the open door came a girl carrying a big oblong cardboard +milliner's box. Her finger was on the bell, when Hanaud stepped +forward. + +"There is no need to ring," he said. "What have you there?" + +The girl stepped into the hall and looked at Ann. + +"It is Mademoiselle's dress for the Ball to-morrow night. +Mademoiselle was to call for a final fitting but did not come. But +Madame Grolin thinks that it will be all right." She laid the box +upon a chest at the side of the hall and went out again. + +"I had forgotten all about it," said Ann. "It was ordered just +before Madame died and tried on once." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"For Madame Le Vay's masked ball, no doubt," he said. "I noticed the +invitation card on the chimney-piece of Mademoiselle's sitting-room. +And in what character did Mademoiselle propose to go?" + +Ann startled them all. She flung up her head, whilst the blood +rushed into her cheeks and her eyes shone. + +"Not Madame de Brinvilliers, Monsieur, at all events," she cried. + +Even Hanaud was brought up with a start. + +"I did not suggest it," he replied coldly. "But let me see!" and in +a moment whilst his face was flushed with anger his hands were busily +untying the tapes of the box. + +Betty stepped forward. + +"We talked over that little dress, together, Monsieur, more than a +month ago. It is meant to represent a water-lily." + +"What could be more charming?" Hanaud asked, but his fingers did not +pause in their work. + +"Could suspicion betray itself more brutally?" Jim Frobisher +wondered. What could he expect to find in that box? Did he imagine +that this Madame Grolin, the milliner, was an accomplice of +Waberski's too? The episode was ludicrous with a touch of the +horrible. Hanaud lifted off the lid and turned back the +tissue-paper. Underneath was seen a short _crêpe de Chine_ frock of +a tender vivid green with a girdle of gold and a great gold rosette +at the side. The skirt was stiffened to stand out at the hips, and +it was bordered with a row of white satin rosettes with golden +hearts. To complete the dress there were a pair of white silk +stockings with fine gold clocks and white satin shoes with single +straps across the insteps and little tassels of brilliants where the +straps buttoned, and four gold stripes at the back round the heels. + +Hanaud felt under the frock and around the sides, replaced the lid, +and stood up again. He never looked at Ann Upcott. He went straight +across to Betty Harlowe. + +"I regret infinitely, Mademoiselle, that I have put you to so much +trouble and occupied so many hours of your day," he said with a good +deal of feeling. He made her a courteous bow, took up his hat and +stick from the table on which he had laid it, and made straight for +the hall door. His business in the Maison Grenelle was to all +appearances finished. + +But Monsieur Bex was not content. He had been nursing his suggestion +for nearly half an hour. Like a poem it demanded utterance. + +"Monsieur Hanaud!" he called; "Monsieur Hanaud! I have to tell you +about a box of matches." + +"Aha!" Hanaud answered, stopping alertly. "A box of matches! I will +walk with you towards your office, and you shall tell me as you go." + +Monsieur Bex secured his hat and his stick in a great hurry. But he +had time to throw a glance of pride towards his English colleague. +"Your suggestion about the treasure room was of no value, my friend. +Let us see what I can do!" The pride and the airy wave of the hand +spoke the unspoken words. Monsieur Bex was at Hanaud's side in a +moment, and talked volubly as they passed out of the gates into the +street of Charles-Robert. + +Betty turned to Jim Frobisher. + +"To-morrow, now that I am once allowed to use my motor-car, I shall +take you for a drive and show you something of our neighbourhood. +This afternoon--you will understand, I know--I belong to Ann." + +She took Ann Upcott by the arm and the two girls went out into the +garden. Jim was left alone in the hall--as at that moment he wanted +to be. It was very still here now and very silent. The piping of +birds, the drone of bees outside the open doors were rather an +accompaniment than an interruption of the silence. Jim placed +himself where Hanaud had stood at that moment when he had laughed so +strangely--half-way between the foot of the stairs where Monsieur Bex +and he himself had been standing and the open porch. But Jim could +detect nothing whatever to provoke any laughter, any excitement. +"That I should have lived all these years and never noticed it +before," he had exclaimed. Notice what? There was nothing to +notice. A table, a chair or two, a barometer hanging upon the wall +on one side and a mirror hanging upon the wall on the other--No, +there was nothing. Of course, Jim reflected, there was a strain of +the mountebank in Hanaud. The whole of that little scene might have +been invented by him maliciously, just to annoy and worry and cause +discomfort to Monsieur Bex and himself. Hanaud was very capable of a +trick like that! A strain of the mountebank indeed! He had a great +deal of the mountebank. More than half of him was probably +mountebank. Possibly quite two-thirds! + +"Oh, damn the fellow! What in the world did he notice?" cried Jim. +"What did he notice from the top of the Tower? What did he notice in +this hall? Why must he be always noticing something?" and he jammed +his hat on in a rage and stalked out of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: _At Jean Cladel's_ + +At nine o'clock that night Jim Frobisher walked past the cashier's +desk and into the hall of the Grande Taverne. High above his head +the cinematograph machine whirred and clicked and a blade of silver +light cut the darkness. At the opposite end of the hall the square +screen was flooded with radiance and the pictures melted upon it one +into the other. + +For a little while Jim could see nothing but that screen. Then the +hall swam gradually within his vision. He saw the heads of people +like great bullets and a wider central corridor where waitresses with +white aprons moved. Jim walked up the corridor and turned off to the +left between the tables. When he reached the wall he went forward +again towards the top of the hall. On his left the hall fell back, +and in the recess were two large cubicles in which billiard tables +were placed. Against the wall of the first of these a young man was +leaning with his eyes fixed upon the screen. Jim fancied that he +recognised Maurice Thevenet, and nodded to him as he passed. A +little further on a big man with a soft felt hat was seated alone, +with a Bock in front of him--Hanaud. Jim slipped into a seat at his +side. + +"You?" Hanaud exclaimed in surprise. + +"Why not? You told me this is where you would be at this hour," +replied Jim, and some note of discouragement in his voice attracted +Hanaud's attention. + +"I didn't think that those two young ladies would let you go," he +said. + +"On the contrary," Jim replied with a short laugh. "They didn't want +me at all." + +He began to say something more, but thought better of it, and called +to a waitress. + +"Two Bocks, if you please," he ordered, and he offered Hanaud a cigar. + +When the Bocks were brought, Hanaud said to him: + +"It will be well to pay at once, so that we can slip away when we +want." + +"We have something to do to-night?" Jim asked. + +"Yes." + +He said no more until Jim had paid and the waitress had turned the +two little saucers on which she had brought the Bocks upside down and +had gone away. Then he leaned towards Jim and lowered his voice. + +"I am glad that you came here. For I have a hope that we shall get +the truth to-night, and you ought to be present when we do get it." + +Jim lit his own cigar. + +"From whom do you hope to get it?" + +"Jean Cladel," Hanaud answered in a whisper. "A little later when +all the town is quiet we will pay a visit to the street of Gambetta." + +"You think he'll talk?" + +Hanaud nodded. + +"There is no charge against Cladel in this affair. To make a +solution of that poison paste is not an offence. And he has so much +against him that he will want to be on our side if he can. Yes, he +will talk I have no doubt." + +There would be an end of the affair then, to-night. Jim Frobisher +was glad with an unutterable gladness. Betty would be free to order +her life as she liked, and where she liked, to give to her youth its +due scope and range, to forget the terror and horror of these last +weeks, as one forgets old things behind locked doors. + +"I hope, however," he said earnestly to Hanaud, "and I believe, that +you will be found wrong, that if there was a murder Ann Upcott had +nothing to do with it. Yes, I believe that." He repeated his +assertion as much to convince himself as to persuade Hanaud. + +Hanaud touched his elbow. + +"Don't raise your voice too much, my friend," he said. "I think +there is some one against the wall who is honouring us with his +attention." + +Jim shook his head. + +"It is only Maurice Thevenet," he said. + +"Oho?" answered Hanaud in a voice of relief. "Is that all? For a +moment I was anxious. It seemed that there was a sentinel standing +guard over us." He added in a whisper, "I, too, hope from the bottom +of my heart that I may be proved wrong. But what of that arrow head +in the pen tray? Eh? Don't forget that!" Then he fell into a muse. + +"What happened on that night in the Maison Crenelle?" he said. "Why +was that communicating door thrown open? Who was to be stripped to +the skin by that violent woman? Who whispered 'That will do now'? +Is Ann Upcott speaking the truth, and was there some terrible scene +taking place before she entered so unexpectedly the treasure +room--some terrible scene which ended in that dreadful whisper? Or +is Ann Upcott lying from beginning to end? Ah, my friend, you wrote +some questions down upon your memorandum this afternoon. But these +are the questions I want answered, and where shall I find the +answers?" + +Jim had never seen Hanaud so moved. His hands were clenched, and the +veins prominent upon his forehead, and though he whispered his voice +shook. + +"Jean Cladel may help," said Jim. + +"Yes, yes, he may tell us something." + +They sat through an episode of the film, and saw the lights go up and +out again, and then Hanaud looked eagerly at his watch and put it +back again into his pocket with a gesture of annoyance. + +"It is still too early?" Jim asked. + +"Yes. Cladel has no servant and takes his meals abroad. He has not +yet returned home." + +A little before ten o'clock a man strolled in, and seating himself at +a table behind Hanaud twice scraped a match upon a match-box without +getting a light. Hanaud, without moving, said quietly to Frobisher: + +"He is at home now. In a minute I shall go. Give me five minutes +and follow." + +Jim nodded. + +"Where shall we meet?" + +"Walk straight along the Rue de la Liberté, and I will see to that," +said Hanaud. + +He pulled his packet of cigarettes from his pocket, put one between +his lips, and took his time in lighting it. Then he got up, but to +his annoyance Maurice Thevenet recognised him and came forward. + +"When Monsieur Frobisher wished me good-evening and joined you I +thought it was you, Monsieur Hanaud. But I had not the presumption +to recall myself to your notice." + +"Presumption! Monsieur, we are of the same service, only you have +the advantage of youth," said Hanaud politely, as he turned. + +"But you are going, Monsieur Hanaud?" Thevenet asked in distress. "I +am desolated. I have broken into a conversation like a clumsy +fellow." + +"Not at all," Hanaud replied. To Frobisher his patience was as +remarkable as Maurice Thevenet's impudence. "We were idly watching a +film which I think is a little tedious." + +"Then, since you are not busy I beg for your indulgence. One little +moment that is all. I should so dearly love to be able to say to my +friends, 'I sat in the cinema with Monsieur Hanaud--yes, actually +I'--and asked for his advice." + +Hanaud sat down again upon his chair. + +"And upon what subject can you, of whom Monsieur Girardot speaks so +highly, want my advice?" Hanaud asked with a laugh. + +The eternal ambition of the provincial was tormenting the eager +youth. To get to Paris--all was in that! Fortune, reputation, a +life of colour. A word from Monsieur Hanaud and a way would open. +He would work night and day to justify that word. + +"Monsieur, all I can promise is that when the time comes I shall +remember you. But that promise I make now with my whole heart," said +Hanaud warmly, and with a bow he moved away. + +Maurice Thevenet watched him go. + +"What a man!" Maurice Thevenet went on enthusiastically. "I would +not like to try to keep any secrets from him. No, indeed!" Jim had +heard that sentiment before on other lips and with a greater +sympathy. "I did not understand at all what he had in his mind when +he staged that little scene with Francine Rollard. But something, +Monsieur. Oh, you may be sure. Something wise. And that search +through the treasure room! How quick and complete! No doubt while +we searched Mademoiselle Upcott's bedroom, he was just as quick and +complete in going through her sitting-room. But he found nothing. +No, nothing." + +He waited for Jim to corroborate him, but Jim only said "Oho!" + +But Thevenet was not to be extinguished. + +"I shall tell you what struck me, Monsieur. He was following out no +suspicions; isn't that so? He was detached. He was gathering up +every trifle, on the chance that each one might sometime fit in with +another and at last a whole picture be composed. An artist! There +was a letter, for instance, which Mademoiselle Harlowe handed to him, +one of those deplorable letters which have disgraced us here--you +remember that letter, Monsieur?" + +"Aha!" said Frobisher, quite in the style of Hanaud. "But I see that +this film is coming to its wedding bells. So I shall wish you a good +evening." + +Frobisher bowed and left Maurice Thevenet to dream of success in +Paris. He strolled between the groups of spectators to the entrance +and thence into the street. He walked to the arch of the Porte +Guillaume and turned into the Rue de la Liberté. The provincial +towns go to bed early and the street so busy throughout the day was +like the street of a deserted city. A couple of hundred yards on, he +was startled to find Hanaud, sprung from nowhere, walking at his side. + +"So my young friend, the secretary engaged you when I had gone?" he +said. + +"Maurice Thevenet," said Jim, "may be as the Commissary says a young +man of a surprising intelligence, but to tell you the truth, I find +him a very intrusive fellow. First of all he wanted to know if you +had discovered anything in Ann Upcott's sitting-room, and then what +Miss Harlowe's anonymous letter was about." + +Hanaud looked at Jim with interest. + +"Yes, he is anxious to learn, that young man, Girardot is right. He +will go far. And how did you answer him?" + +"I said 'Oho'! first, and then I said 'Aha'! just like a troublesome +friend of mine when I ask him a simple question which he does not +mean to answer." + +Hanaud laughed heartily. + +"And you did very well," he said. "Come, let us turn into this +little street upon the right. It will take us to our destination." + +"Wait!" whispered Jim eagerly. "Don't cross the road for a moment. +Listen!" + +Hanaud obeyed at once; and both men stood and listened in the empty +street. + +"Not a sound," said Hanaud. + +"No! That is what troubles me!" Jim whispered importantly. "A +minute ago there were footsteps behind us. Now that we have stopped +they have stopped too. Let us go on quite straight for a moment or +two." + +"But certainly my friend," said Hanaud. + +"And let us not talk either," Jim urged. + +"Not a single word," said Hanaud. + +They moved forward again and behind them once more footsteps rang +upon the pavement. + +"What did I tell you?" asked Jim, taking Hanaud by the arm. + +"That we would neither of us speak," Hanaud replied. "And lo! you +have spoken!" + +"But why? Why have I spoken? Be serious, Monsieur," Jim shook his +arm indignantly. "We are being followed." + +Hanaud stopped dead and gazed in steady admiration at his junior +colleague. + +"Oh!" he whispered. "You have discovered that? Yes, it is true. We +are being followed by one of my men who sees to it that we are not +followed." + +Frobisher shook Hanaud's arm off indignantly. He drew himself up +stiffly. Then he saw Hanaud's mouth twitching and he understood that +he was looking "proper." + +"Oh, let us go and find Jean Cladel," he said with a laugh and he +crossed the road. They passed into a network of small, mean streets. +There was not a soul abroad. The houses were shrouded in darkness. +The only sounds they heard were the clatter of their own footsteps on +the pavement and the fainter noise of the man who followed them. +Hanaud turned to the left into a short passage and stopped before a +little house with a shuttered shop front. + +"This is the place," he said in a low voice and he pressed the button +in the pillar of the door. The bell rang with a shrill sharp whirr +just the other side of the panels. + +"We may have to wait a moment if he has gone to bed," said Hanaud, +"since he has no servant in the house." + +A minute or two passed. The clocks struck the half hour. Hanaud +leaned his ear against the panels of the door. He could not hear one +sound within the house. He rang again; and after a few seconds +shutters were thrown back and a window opened on the floor above. +From behind the window some one whispered: + +"Who is there?" + +"The police," Hanaud answered, and at the window above there was +silence. + +"No one is going to do you any harm," Hanaud continued, raising his +voice impatiently. "We want some information from you. That's all." + +"Very well." The whisper came from the same spot. The man standing +within the darkness of the room had not moved. "Wait! I will slip +on some things and come down." + +The window and the shutter were closed again. Then through the +chinks a few beams of light strayed out Hanaud uttered a little grunt +of satisfaction. + +"That animal is getting up at last. He must have some strange +clients amongst the good people of Dijon if he is so careful to +answer them in a whisper." + +He turned about and took a step or two along the pavement and another +step or two back like a man upon a quarter deck. Jim Frobisher had +never known him so restless and impatient during these two days. + +"I can't help it," he said in a low voice to Jim. "I think that in +five minutes we shall touch the truth of this affair. We shall know +who brought the arrow to him from the Maison Crenelle." + +"If any one brought the arrow to him at all," Jim Frobisher added. + +But Hanaud was not in the mood to consider ifs and possibilities. + +"Oh, that!" he said with a shrug of the shoulders. Then he tapped +his forehead. "I am like Waberski. I have it here that some one did +bring the arrow to Jean Cladel." + +He started once more his quarter-deck pacing. Only it was now a trot +rather than a walk. Jim was a little nettled by the indifference to +his suggestion. He was still convinced that Hanaud had taken the +wrong starting point in all his inquiry. He said tartly: + +"Well, if some one did bring the arrow here, it will be the same +person who replaced the treatise on Sporanthus on its book shelf." + +Hanaud came to a stop in front of Jim Frobisher. Then he burst into +a low laugh. + +"I will bet you all the money in the world that that is not true, and +then Madame Harlowe's pearl necklace on the top of it. For after all +it was not I who brought the arrow to Jean Cladel, whereas it was +undoubtedly I who put back the treatise on the shelf." + +Jim took a step back. He stared at Hanaud with his mouth open in a +stupefaction. + +"You?" he exclaimed. + +"I," replied Hanaud, standing up on the tips of his toes. "Alone I +did it." + +Then his manner of burlesque dropped from him. He looked up at the +shuttered windows with a sudden anxiety. + +"That animal is taking longer than he need," he muttered. "After +all, it is not to a court ball of the Duke of Burgundy that we are +inviting him." + +He rang the bell again with a greater urgency. It returned its +shrill reply as though it mocked him. + +"I do not like this," said Hanaud. + +He seized the door-handle and leaned his shoulder against the panel +and drove his weight against it. But the door was strong and did not +give. Hanaud put his fingers to his mouth and whistled softly. From +the direction whence they had come they heard the sound of a man +running swiftly. They saw him pass within the light of the one +street lamp at the corner and out of it again; and then he stood at +their side. Jim recognised Nicolas Moreau, the little agent who had +been sent this very morning by Hanaud to make sure that Jean Cladel +existed. + +"Nicolas, I want you to wait here," said Hanaud. "If the door is +opened, whistle for us and keep it open." + +"Very well, sir." + +Hanaud said in a low and troubled voice to Frobisher: "There is +something here which alarms me." He dived into a narrow alley at the +side of the shop. + +"It was in this alley no doubt that Waberski meant us to believe that +he hid on the morning of the 7th of May," Jim whispered as he hurried +to keep with his companion. + +"No doubt." + +The alley led into a lane which ran parallel with the street of +Gambetta. Hanaud wheeled into it. A wall five feet high, broken at +intervals by rickety wooden doors, enclosed the yards at the backs of +the houses. Before the first of these breaks in the wall Hanaud +stopped. He raised himself upon the tips of his toes and peered over +the wall, first downwards into the yard, and then upwards towards the +back of the house. There was no lamp in the lane, no light showing +from any of the windows. Though the night was clear of mist it was +as dark as a cavern in this narrow lane behind the houses. Jim +Frobisher, though his eyes were accustomed to the gloom, knew that he +could not have seen a man, even if he had moved, ten yards away. Yet +Hanaud still stood peering at the back of the house with the tips of +his fingers on the top of the wall. Finally he touched Jim on the +sleeve. + +"I believe the back window on the first floor is open," he whispered, +and his voice was more troubled than ever. "We will go in and see." + +He touched the wooden door and it swung inwards with a whine of its +hinges. + +"Open," said Hanaud. "Make no noise." + +Silently they crossed the yard. The ground floor of the house was +low. Jim looking upwards could see now that the window above their +heads yawned wide open. + +"You are right," he breathed in Hanaud's ear, and with a touch Hanaud +asked for silence. + +The room beyond the window was black as pitch. The two men stood +below and listened. Not a word came from it. Hanaud drew Jim into +the wall of the house. At the end of the wall a door gave admission +into the house. Hanaud tried the door, turning the handle first and +then gently pressing with his shoulder upon the panel. + +"It's locked, but not bolted like the door in front," he whispered. +"I can manage this." + +Jim Frobisher heard the tiniest possible rattle of a bunch of keys as +Hanaud drew it from his pocket, and then not a noise of any kind +whilst Hanaud stooped above the lock. Yet within half a minute the +door slowly opened. It opened upon a passage as black as that room +above their heads. Hanaud stepped noiselessly into the passage. Jim +Frobisher followed him with a heart beating high in excitement. What +had happened in that lighted room upstairs and in the dark room +behind it? Why didn't Jean Cladel come down and open the door upon +the street of Gambetta? Why didn't they hear Nicolas Moreau's soft +whistle or the sound of his voice? Hanaud stepped back past Jim +Frobisher and shut the door behind them and locked it again. + +"You haven't an electric torch with you, of course?" Hanaud whispered. + +"No," replied Jim. + +"Nor I. And I don't want to strike a match. There's something +upstairs which frightens me." + +You could hardly hear the words. They were spoken as though the mere +vibration of the air they caused would carry a message to the rooms +above. + +"We'll move very carefully. Keep a hand upon my coat," and Hanaud +went forward. After he had gone a few paces he stopped. + +"There's a staircase here on my right. It turns at once. Mind not +to knock your foot on the first step," he whispered over his +shoulder; and a moment later, he reached down and, taking hold of +Jim's right arm, laid his hand upon a balustrade. Jim lifted his +foot, felt for and found the first tread of the stairs, and mounted +behind Hanaud. They halted on a little landing just above the door +by which they had entered the house. + +In front of them the darkness began to thin, to become opaque rather +than a black, impenetrable hood drawn over their heads. Jim +understood that in front of him was an open door and that the faint +glimmer came from that open window on their left hand beyond the door. + +Hanaud passed through the doorway into the room. Jim followed and +was already upon the threshold, when Hanaud stumbled and uttered a +cry. No doubt the cry was low, but coming so abruptly upon their +long silence it startled Frobisher like the explosion of a pistol. +It seemed that it must clash through Dijon like the striking of a +clock. + +But nothing followed. No one stirred, no one cried out a question. +Silence descended upon the house again, impenetrable, like the +darkness a hood upon the senses. Jim was tempted to call out aloud +himself, anything, however childish, so that he might hear a voice +speaking words, if only his own voice. The words came at last, from +Hanaud and from the inner end of the room, but in an accent which Jim +did not recognise. + +"Don't move! ... There is something.... I told you I was +frightened.... Oh!" and his voice died away in a sigh. + +Jim could hear him moving very cautiously. Then he almost screamed +aloud. For the shutters at the window slowly swung to and the room +was once more shrouded in black. + +"Who's that?" Jim whispered violently, and Hanaud answered: + +"It's only me--Hanaud. I don't want to show a light here yet with +that window open. God knows what dreadful thing has happened here. +Come just inside the room and shut the door behind you." + +Jim obeyed, and having moved his position, could see a line of yellow +light, straight and fine as if drawn by a pencil, at the other end of +the room on the floor. There was a door there, a door into the front +room where they had seen the light go up from the street of Gambetta. + +Jim Frobisher had hardly realised that before the door was burst open +with a crash. In the doorway, outlined against the light beyond, +appeared the bulky frame of Hanaud. + +"There is nothing here," he said, standing there blocking up the +doorway with his hands in his pockets. "The room is quite empty." + +That room, the front room--yes! But between Hanaud's legs the light +trickled out into the dark room behind, and here, on the floor +illuminated by a little lane of light, Jim, with a shiver, saw a +clenched hand and a forearm in a crumpled shirt-sleeve. + +"Turn round," he cried to Hanaud. "Look!" + +Hanaud turned. + +"Yes," he said quietly. "That is what I stumbled against." + +He found a switch in the wall close to the door and snapped it down. +The dark room was flooded with light, and on the floor, in the midst +of a scene of disorder, a table pushed back here, a chair overturned +there, lay the body of a man. He wore no coat. He was in his +waistcoat and his shirt sleeves, and he was crumpled up with a +horrible suggestion of agony like a ball, his knees towards his chin, +his head forward towards his knees. One arm clutched the body close, +the other, the one which Jim had seen, was flung out, his hand +clenched in a spasm of intolerable pain. And about the body there +was such a pool of blood as Jim Frobisher thought no body could +contain. + +Jim staggered back with his hands clasped over his eyes. He felt +physically sick. + +"Then he killed himself on our approach," he cried with a groan. + +"Who?" answered Hanaud steadily. + +"Jean Cladel. The man who whispered to us from behind the window." + +Hanaud stunned him with a question. + +"What with?" + +Jim drew his hands slowly from before his face and forced his eyes to +their service. There was no gleam of a knife, or a pistol, anywhere +against the dark background of the carpet. + +"You might think that he was a Japanese who had committed +_hari-kari_," said Hanaud. "But if he had, the knife would be at his +side. And there is no knife." + +He stooped over the body and felt it, and drew his hand back. + +"It is still warm," he said, and then a gasp, "Look!" He pointed. +The man was lying on his side in this dreadful pose of contracted +sinews and unendurable pain. And across the sleeve of his shirt +there was a broad red mark. + +"That's where the knife was wiped clean," said Hanaud. + +Jim bent forward. + +"By God, that's true," he cried, and a little afterwards, in a voice +of awe: "Then it's murder." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"Not a doubt." + +Jim Frobisher stood up. He pointed a shaking finger at the grotesque +image of pain crumpled upon the floor, death without dignity, an +argument that there was something horribly wrong with the making of +the human race--since such things could be. + +"Jean Cladel?" he asked. + +"We must make sure," answered Hanaud. He went down the stairs to the +front door and, unbolting it, called Moreau within the house. From +the top of the stairs Jim heard him ask: + +"Do you know Jean Cladel by sight?" + +"Yes," answered Moreau. + +"Then follow me." + +Hanaud led him up into the back room. For a moment Moreau stopped +upon the threshold with a blank look upon his face. + +"Is that the man?" Hanaud asked. + +Moreau stepped forward. + +"Yes." + +"He has been murdered," Hanaud explained. "Will you fetch the +Commissary of the district and a doctor? We will wait here." + +Moreau turned on his heel and went downstairs. Hanaud dropped into a +chair and stared moodily at the dead body. + +"Jean Cladel," he said in a voice of discouragement. "Just when he +could have been of a little use in the world! Just when he could +have helped us to the truth! It's my fault, too. I oughtn't to have +waited until to-night. I ought to have foreseen that this might +happen." + +"Who can have murdered him?" Jim Frobisher exclaimed. + +Hanaud roused himself out of his remorse. + +"The man who whispered to us from behind the window," answered Hanaud. + +Jim Frobisher felt his mind reeling. + +"That's impossible!" he cried. + +"Why?" Hanaud asked. "It must have been he. Think it out!" And +step by step he told the story as he read it, testing it by speaking +it aloud. + +"At five minutes past ten a man of mine, still a little out of breath +from his haste, comes to us in the Grande Taverne and tells us that +Jean Cladel has just reached home. He reached home then at five +minutes to ten." + +"Yes," Jim agreed. + +"We were detained for a few minutes by Maurice Thevenet. Yes." He +moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and said softly: "We +shall have to consider that very modest and promising young gentleman +rather carefully. He detained us. We heard the clock strike +half-past ten as we waited in the street." + +"Yes." + +"And all was over then. For the house was as silent as what, indeed, +it is--a grave. And only just over, for the body is still warm. If +this--lying here, is Jean Cladel, some one else must have been +waiting for him to come home to-night, waiting in the lane behind, +since my man didn't see him. And an acquaintance, a friend--for Jean +Cladel lets him in and locks the door behind him." + +Jim interrupted. + +"He might have been here already, waiting for him with his knife +bared in this dark room." + +Hanaud looked around the room. It was furnished cheaply and +stuffily, half office, half living-room. An open bureau stood +against the wall near the window. A closed cabinet occupied the +greater part of one side. + +"I wonder," he said. "It is possible, no doubt---- But if so, why +did the murderer stay so long? No search has been made--no drawers +are ransacked." He tried the door of the cabinet. "This is still +locked. No, I don't think that he was waiting. I think that he was +admitted as a friend or a client--I fancy Jean Cladel had not a few +clients who preferred to call upon him by the back way in the dark of +the night. I think that his visitor came meaning to kill, and waited +his time and killed, and that he had hardly killed before we rang the +bell at the door." Hanaud drew in his breath sharply. "Imagine +that, my friend! He is standing here over the man he has murdered, +and unexpectedly the shrill, clear sound of the bell goes through the +house--as though God said, 'I saw you!' Imagine it! He turned out +the light and stands holding his breath in the dark. The bell rings +again. He must answer it or worse may befall. He goes into the +front room and throws open the window, and hears it is the police who +are at the door." Hanaud nodded his head in a reluctant admiration. +"But that man had an iron nerve! He doesn't lose his head. He +closes the shutter, he turns on the light, that we may think he is +getting up, he runs back into this room. He will not waste time by +stumbling down the stairs and fumbling with the lock of the back +door. No, he opens these shutters and drops to the ground. It is +done in a second. Another second, and he is in the lane; another, +and he is safe, his dreadful mission ended. Cladel will not speak. +Cladel will not tell us the things we want to know." + +Hanaud went over to the cabinet and, using his skeleton keys, again +opened its doors. On the shelves were ranged a glass jar or two, a +retort, the simplest utensils of a laboratory and a few bottles, one +of which, larger than the rest, was half filled with a colourless +liquid. + +"Alcohol," said Hanaud, pointing to the label. + +Jim Frobisher moved carefully round on the outskirts of the room, +taking care not to alter the disarrangements of the furniture. He +looked the bottles over. Not one of them held a drop of that pale +lemon-coloured solution which the Professor, in his Treatise, had +described. Hanaud shut and locked the doors of the cabinet again and +stepped carefully over to the bureau. It stood open, and a few +papers were strewn upon the flap. He sat down at the bureau and +began carefully to search it. Jim sat down in a chair. Somehow it +had leaked out that, since this morning, Hanaud knew of Jean Cladel. +Jean Cladel therefore must be stopped from any revelations; and he +had been stopped. Frobisher could no longer doubt that murder had +been done on the night of April the 27th, in the Maison Crenelle. +Development followed too logically upon development. The case was +building itself up--another storey had been added to the edifice with +this new crime. Yes, certainly and solidly it was building itself +up--this case against some one. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: _The White Tablet_ + +Within the minute that case was to be immeasurably strengthened. An +exclamation broke from Hanaud. He sprang to his feet and turned on +the light of a green-shaded reading lamp, which stood upon the ledge +of the bureau. He was holding now under the light a small drawer, +which he had removed from the front of the bureau. Very gingerly he +lifted some little thing out of it, something that looked like a +badge that men wear in their buttonholes. He laid it down upon the +blotting paper; and in that room of death laughed harshly. + +He beckoned to Jim. + +"Come and look!" + +What Jim saw was a thin, small, barbed iron dart, with an iron stem. +He had no need to ask its nature, for he had seen its likeness that +morning in the Treatise of the Edinburgh Professor. This was the +actual head of Simon Harlowe's poison-arrow. + +"You have found it!" said Jim in a voice that shook. + +"Yes." + +Hanaud gave it a little push, and said thoughtfully: + +"A negro thousands of miles away sits outside his hut in the Kombe +country and pounds up his poison seed and mixes it with red clay, and +smears it thick and slab over the shaft of his fine new arrow, and +waits for his enemy. But his enemy does not come. So he barters it, +or gives it to his white friend the trader on the Shire river. And +the trader brings it home and gives it to Simon Harlowe of the Maison +Crenelle. And Simon Harlowe lends it to a professor in Edinburgh, +who writes about it in a printed book and sends it back again. And +in the end, after all its travels, it comes to the tenement of Jean +Cladel in a slum of Dijon, and is made ready in a new way to do its +deadly work." + +For how much longer Hanaud would have moralised over the arrow in +this deplorable way, no man can tell. Happily Jim Frobisher was +reprieved from listening to him by the shutting of a door below and +the noise of voices in the passage. + +"The Commissary!" said Hanaud, and he went quickly down the stairs. + +Jim heard him speaking in a low tone for quite a long while, and no +doubt was explaining the position of affairs. For when he brought +the Commissary and the doctor up into the room he introduced Jim as +one about whom they already knew. + +"This is that Monsieur Frobisher," he said. + +The Commissary, a younger and more vivacious man than Girardot, bowed +briskly to Jim and looked towards the contorted figure of Jean Cladel. + +Even he could not restrain a little gesture of repulsion. He clacked +his tongue against the roof of his mouth. + +"He is not pretty, that one!" he said. "Most certainly he is not +pretty." + +Hanaud crossed again to the bureau and carefully folded the dart +around with paper. + +"With your permission, Monsieur," he said ceremoniously to the +Commissary, "I shall take this with me. I will be responsible for +it." He put it away in his pocket and looked at the doctor, who was +stooping by the side of Jean Cladel. "I do not wish to interfere, +but I should be glad to have a copy of the medical report. I think +that it might help me. I think it will be found that this murder was +committed in a way peculiar to one man." + +"Certainly you shall have a copy of the report, Monsieur Hanaud," +replied the young Commissary in a polite and formal voice. + +Hanaud laid a hand on Jim's arm. + +"We are in the way, my friend. Oh, yes, in spite of Monsieur le +Commissaire's friendly protestations. This is not our affair. Let +us go!" He conducted Jim to the door and turned about. "I do not +wish to interfere," he repeated, "but it is possible that the +shutters and the window will bear the traces of the murderer's +fingers. I don't think it probable, for that animal had taken his +precautions. But it is possible, for he left in a great hurry." + +The Commissary was overwhelmed with gratitude. + +"Most certainly we will give our attention to the shutters and the +window-sill." + +"A copy of the finger-prints, if any are found?" Hanaud suggested. + +"Shall be at Monsieur Hanaud's disposal as early as possible," the +Commissary agreed. + +Jim experienced a pang of regret that Monsieur Bex was not present at +the little exchange of civilities. The Commissary and Hanaud were so +careful not to tread upon one another's toes and so politely +determined that their own should not be trodden upon. Monsieur Bex +could not but have revelled in the correctness of their deportment. + +Hanaud and Frobisher went downstairs into the street The +neighbourhood had not been aroused. A couple of _sergents-de-ville_ +stood in front of the door. The street of Gambetta was still asleep +and indifferent to the crime which had taken place in one of its +least respectable houses. + +"I shall go to the Prefecture," said Hanaud. "They have given me a +little office there with a sofa. I want to put away the arrow head +before I go to my hotel." + +"I shall come with you," said Jim. "It will be a relief to walk for +a little in the fresh air, after that room." + +The Prefecture lay the better part of a mile away across the city. +Hanaud set off at a great pace, and reaching the building conducted +Jim into an office with a safe set against the wall. + +"Will you sit down for a moment? And smoke, please," he said. + +He was in a mood of such deep dejection; he was so changed from his +mercurial self; that only now did Jim Frobisher understand the great +store he had set upon his interview with Jean Cladel. He unlocked +the safe and brought over to the table a few envelopes of different +sizes, the copy of the Treatise and his green file. He seated +himself in front of Jim and began to open his envelopes and range +their contents in a row, when the door was opened and a gendarme +saluted and advanced. He carried a paper in his hand. + +"A reply came over the telephone from Paris at nine o'clock to-night, +Monsieur Hanaud. They say that this may be the name of the firm you +want. It was established in the Rue de Batignolles, but it ceased to +exist seven years ago." + +"Yes, that would have happened," Hanaud answered glumly, as he took +the paper. He read what was written upon it. "Yes--yes. That's it. +Not a doubt." + +He took an envelope from a rack upon the table and put the paper +inside it and stuck down the flap. On the front of the envelope, Jim +saw him write an illuminating word. "Address." + +Then he looked at Jim with smouldering eyes. + +"There is a fatality in all this," he cried. "We become more and +more certain that murder was committed and how it was committed. We +get a glimpse of possible reasons why. But we are never an inch +nearer to evidence--real convincing evidence--who committed it. +Fatality? I am a fool to use such words. It's keen wits and +audacity and nerve that stop us at the end of each lane and make an +idiot of me!" + +He struck a match viciously and lit a cigarette. Frobisher made an +effort to console him. + +"Yes, but it's the keen wits and the audacity and the nerve of more +than one person." + +Hanaud glanced at Frobisher sharply. + +"Explain, my friend." + +"I have been thinking over it ever since we left the street of +Gambetta. I no longer doubt that Mrs. Harlowe was murdered in the +Maison Crenelle. It is impossible to doubt it. But her murder was +part of the activities of a gang. Else how comes it that Jean Cladel +was murdered too to-night?" + +A smile drove for a moment the gloom from Hanaud's face. + +"Yes. You have been quite fifteen minutes in the bull-ring," he said. + +"Then you agree with me?" + +"Yes!" But Hanaud's gloom had returned. "But we can't lay our hands +upon the gang. We are losing time, and I am afraid that we have no +time to lose." Hanaud shivered like a man suddenly chilled. "Yes, I +am very troubled now. I am very--frightened." + +His fear peered out of him and entered into Frobisher. Frobisher did +not understand it, he had no clue to what it was that Hanaud feared, +but sitting in that brightly-lit office in the silent building, he +was conscious of evil presences thronging about the pair of them, +presences grotesque and malevolent such as some old craftsman of +Dijon might have carved on the pillars of a cathedral. He, too, +shivered. + +"Let us see, now!" said Hanaud. + +He took the end of the arrow shaft from one envelope, and the barb +from his pocket, and fitted them together. The iron barb was loose +now because the hole to receive it at the top of the arrow shaft had +been widened to take a nib. But the spoke was just about the right +length. He laid the arrow down upon the table, and opened his green +file. A small square envelope, such as chemists use, attracted Jim's +notice. He took it up. It seemed empty, but as he shook it out, a +square tablet of some hard white substance rolled on to the table. +It was soiled with dust, and there was a smear of green upon it; and +as Jim turned it over, he noticed a cut or crack in its surface, as +though something sharp had struck it. + +"What in the world has this to do with the affair?" he asked. + +Hanaud looked up from his file. He reached out his hand swiftly to +take the tablet away from Jim, and drew his hand in again. + +"A good deal perhaps. Perhaps nothing," he said gravely. "But it is +interesting--that tablet. I shall know more about it to-morrow." + +Jim could not for the life of him remember any occasion which had +brought this tablet into notice. It certainly had not been +discovered in Jean Cladel's house, for it was already there in the +safe in the office. Jim had noticed the little square envelope as +Hanaud fetched it out of the safe. The tablet looked as if it had +been picked up from the road like Monsieur Bex's famous match-box. +Or--yes, there was that smear of green--from the grass. Jim sat up +straight in his chair. They had all been together in the garden this +morning. Hanaud, himself, Betty and Ann Upcott. But at that point +Frobisher's conjectures halted. Neither his memory nor deduction +could connect that tablet with the half-hour the four of them had +passed in the shade of the sycamores. The only thing of which he was +quite sure was the great importance which Hanaud attached to it. For +all the time that he handled and examined it Hanaud's eyes never left +him, never once. They followed each little movement of finger tip +and thumb with an extraordinary alertness, and when Jim at last +tilted it off his palm back into its little envelope, the detective +undoubtedly drew a breath of relief. + +Jim Frobisher laughed good-humouredly. He was getting to know his +man. He did not invite any "Aha's" and "Oho's" by vain questionings. +He leaned across the table and took up his own memorandum which +Hanaud had just laid aside out of his file. He laid it on the table +in front of him and added two new questions to those which he had +already written out. Thus: + + + (5) What was the exact message telephoned from Paris to the + Prefecture and hidden away in an envelope marked by Hanaud: + "Address"? + + + (6) When and where and why was the white tablet picked up, and + what, in the name of all the saints, does it mean? + + +With another laugh Frobisher tossed the memorandum back to Hanaud. +Hanaud, however, read them slowly and thoughtfully. "I had hoped to +answer all your questions to-night," he said dispiritedly. "But you +see! We break down at every corner, and the question must wait." + +He was fitting methodically the memorandum back into the file when a +look of extreme surprise came over Frobisher's face. He pointed a +finger at the file. + +"That telegram!" + +There was a telegram pinned to the three anonymous letters which +Hanaud had in the file--the two which Hanaud had shown to Frobisher +in Paris and the third which Betty Harlowe had given to him that very +afternoon. And the telegram was pieced together by two strips of +stamp-paper in a cross. + +"That's our telegram. The telegram sent to my firm by Miss Harlowe +on Monday--yes, by George, this last Monday." + +It quite took Jim's breath away, so crowded had his days been with +fears and reliefs, excitements and doubts, discoveries and +disappointments, to realise that this was only the Friday night; that +at so recent a date as Wednesday he had never seen or spoken with +Betty Harlowe. "The telegram announcing to us in London that you +were engaged upon the case." + +Hanaud nodded in assent. + +"Yes. You gave it to me." + +"And you tore it up." + +"I did. But I picked it out of the waste-paper basket afterwards and +stuck it together." Hanaud explained, in no wise disconcerted by Jim +Frobisher's attack of perspicacity. "I meant to make some trouble +here with the Police for letting out the secret. I am very glad now +that I did pick it out. You yourself must have realised its +importance the very next morning before I even arrived at the Maison +Crenelle, when you told Mademoiselle that you had shown it to me." + +Jim cast his memory back. He had a passion for precision and +exactness which was very proper in one of his profession. + +"It was not until you came that I learnt Miss Harlowe had the news by +an anonymous letter," he said. + +"Well, that doesn't matter," Hanaud interposed a trifle quickly. +"The point of importance to me is that when the case is done with, +and I have a little time to devote to these letters, the telegram may +be of value." + +"Yes, I see," said Jim. "I see that," he repeated, and he shifted +uncomfortably in his chair; and opened his mouth and closed it again; +and remained suspended between speech and silence, whilst Hanaud read +through his file and contemplated his exhibits and found no hope in +them. + +"They lead me nowhere!" he cried violently; and Jim Frobisher made up +his mind. + +"Monsieur Hanaud, you do not share your thoughts with me," he said +rather formally, "but I will deal with you in a better way; apart +from this crime in the Maison Crenelle, you have the mystery of these +anonymous letters to solve. I can help you to this extent. Another +of them has been received." + +"When?" + +"To-night, whilst we sat at dinner." + +"By whom?" + +"Ann Upcott." + +"What!" + +Hanaud was out of his chair with a cry, towering up, his face white +as the walls of the room, his eyes burning upon Frobisher. Never +could news have been so unexpected, so startling. + +"You are sure?" he asked. + +"Quite. It came by the evening post--with others. Gaston brought +them into the dining-room. There was one for me from my firm in +London, a couple for Betty, and this one for Ann Upcott. She opened +it with a frown, as though she did not know from whom it came. I saw +it as she unfolded it. It was on the same common paper--typewritten +in the same way--with no address at the head of it. She gasped as +she looked at it, and then she read it again. And then with a smile +she folded it and put it away." + +"With a smile?" Hanaud insisted. + +"Yes. She was pleased. The colour came into her face. The distress +went out of it." + +"She didn't show it to you, then?" + +"No." + +"Nor to Mademoiselle Harlowe?" + +"No." + +"But she was pleased, eh?" It seemed that to Hanaud this was the +most extraordinary feature of the whole business. "Did she say +anything?" + +"Yes," answered Jim. "She said 'He has been always right, hasn't +he?'" + +"She said that! 'He has been always right, hasn't he?'" Hanaud +slowly resumed his seat, and sat like a man turned into stone. He +looked up in a little while. + +"What happened then?" he asked. + +"Nothing until dinner was over. Then she picked up her letter and +beckoned with her head to Miss Betty, who said to me: 'We shall have +to leave you to take your coffee alone.' They went across the hall +to Betty's room. The treasure-room. I was a little nettled. Ever +since I have been in Dijon one person after another has pushed me +into a corner with orders to keep quiet and not interfere. So I came +to find you at the Grande Taverne." + +At another moment Jim's eruption of injured vanity would have +provoked Hanaud to one of his lamentable exhibitions, but now he did +not notice it at all. + +"They went away to talk that letter over together," said Hanaud. +"And that young lady was pleased, she who was so distressed this +afternoon. A way out, then!" Hanaud was discussing his problem with +himself, his eyes upon the table. "For once the Scourge is kind? I +wonder! It baffles me!" He rose to his feet and walked once or +twice across the room. "Yes, I the old bull of a hundred corridas, +I, Hanaud, am baffled!" + +He was not posturing now. He was frankly and simply amazed that he +could be so utterly at a loss. Then, with a swift change of mood, he +came back to the table. + +"Meanwhile, Monsieur, until I can explain this strange new incident +to myself, I beg of you your help," he pleaded very earnestly and +even very humbly. Fear had returned to his eyes and his voice. He +was disturbed beyond Jim's comprehension. "There is nothing more +important. I want you--how shall I put it so that I may persuade +you? I want you to stay as much as you can in the Maison +Crenelle--to--yes--to keep a little watch on this pretty Ann Upcott, +to----" + +He got no further with his proposal. Jim Frobisher interrupted him +in a very passion of anger. + +"No, no, I won't," he cried. "You go much too far, Monsieur. I +won't be your spy. I am not here for that. I am here for my client. +As for Ann Upcott, she is my countrywoman. I will not help you +against her. So help me God, I won't!" + +Hanaud looked across the table at the flushed and angry face of his +"junior colleague," who now resigned his office and, without parley, +accepted his defeat. + +"I don't blame you," he answered quietly. "I could, indeed, hope for +no other reply. I must be quick, that's all. I must be very quick!" + +Frobisher's anger fell away from him like a cloak one drops. He saw +Hanaud sitting over against him with a white, desperately troubled +face and eyes in which there shone unmistakeably some gleam of terror. + +"Tell me!" he cried in an exasperation. "Be frank with me for once! +Is Ann Upcott guilty? She's not alone, of course, anyway. There's a +gang. We're agreed upon that. Waberski's one of them, of course? +Is Ann Upcott another? Do you believe it?" + +Hanaud slowly put his exhibits together. There was a struggle going +on within him. The strain of the night had told upon them both, and +he was tempted for once to make a confidant, tempted intolerably. On +the other hand, Jim Frobisher read in him all the traditions of his +service; to wait upon facts, not to utter suspicions; to be fair. It +was not until he had locked everything away again in the safe that +Hanaud yielded to the temptation. And even then he could not bring +himself to be direct. + +"You want to know what I believe of Ann Upcott?" he cried +reluctantly, as though the words were torn from him. "Go to-morrow +to the Church of Notre Dame and look at the façade. There, since you +are not blind, you will see." + +He would say no more; that was clear. Nay, he stood moodily before +Frobisher, already regretting that he had said so much. Frobisher +picked up his hat and stick. + +"Thank you," he said. "Good night." + +Hanaud let him go to the door. Then he said: + +"You are free to-morrow. I shall not go to the Maison Crenelle. +Have you any plans?" + +"Yes. I am to be taken for a motor-drive round the neighbourhood." + +"Yes. It is worth while," Hanaud answered listlessly. "But remember +to telephone to me before you go. I shall be here. I will tell you +if I have any news. Good night." + +Jim Frobisher left him standing in the middle of the room. Before he +had closed the door Hanaud had forgotten his presence. For he was +saying to himself over and over again, almost with an accent of +despair: "I must be quick! I must be very quick!" + + +Frobisher walked briskly down to the Place Ernest Renan and the Rue +de la Liberté, dwelling upon Hanaud's injunction to examine the +façade of Notre Dame. He must keep that in mind and obey it in the +morning. But that night was not yet over for him. + +As he reached the mouth of the little street of Charles-Robert he +heard a light, quick step a little way behind him--a step that seemed +familiar. So when he turned into the street he sauntered and looked +round. He saw a tall man cross the entrance of the street very +quickly and disappear between, the houses on the opposite side. The +man paused for a second under the light of a street lamp at the angle +of the street, and Jim could have sworn that it was Hanaud. There +were no hotels, no lodgings in this quarter of the city. It was a +quarter of private houses. What was Hanaud seeking there? + +Speculating upon this new question, he forgot the façade of Notre +Dame; and upon his arrival at the Maison Crenelle a little incident +occurred which made the probability that he would soon remember it +remote. He let himself into the house with a latchkey which had been +given to him, and turned on the light in the hall by means of a +switch at the side of the door. He crossed the hall to the foot of +the stairs, and was about to turn off the light, using the switch +there to which Ann Upcott had referred, when the door of the +treasure-room opened. Betty appeared in the doorway. + +"You are still up?" he said in a low voice, half pleased to find her +still afoot and half regretful that she was losing her hours of sleep. + +"Yes," and slowly her face softened to a smile. "I waited up for my +lodger." + +She held the door open, and he followed her back into the room. + +"Let me look at you," she said, and having looked, she added: "Jim, +something has happened to-night." + +Jim nodded. + +"What?" she asked. + +"Let it wait till to-morrow, Betty!" + +Betty smiled no longer. The light died out of her dark, haunting +eyes. Lassitude and distress veiled them. + +"Something terrible, then?" she said in a whisper. + +"Yes," and she stretched out a hand to the back of a chair and +steadied herself. + +"Please tell me, now, Jim! I shall not sleep to-night unless you do; +and oh, I am so tired!" + +There was so deep a longing in her voice, so utter a weariness in the +pose of her young body that Jim could not but yield. + +"I'll tell you, Betty," he said gently. "Hanaud and I went to find +Jean Cladel to-night. We found him dead. He had been +murdered--cruelly." + +Betty moaned and swayed upon her feet. She would have fallen had not +Jim caught her in his arms. + +"Betty!" he cried. + +Betty buried her face upon his shoulder. He could feel the heave of +her bosom against his heart. + +"It's appalling!" she moaned. "Jean Cladel! ... No one ever had +heard of him till this morning ... and now he's swept into this +horror--like the rest of us! Oh, where will it end?" + +Jim placed her in a chair and dropped on his knees beside her. + +She was sobbing now, and he tried to lift her face up to his. + +"My dear!" he whispered. + +But she would not raise her head. + +"No," she said in a stifled voice, "no," and she pressed her face +deeper into the crook of his shoulder and clung to him with desperate +hands. + +"Betty!" he repeated, "I am so sorry.... But it'll all come right. +I'm sure it will. Oh, Betty!" And whilst he spoke he cursed himself +for the banality of his words. Why couldn't he find some ideas that +were really fine with which to comfort her? Something better than +these stupid commonplaces of "I am sorry" and "It will all straighten +out"? But he couldn't, and it seemed that there was no necessity +that he should. For her arms crept round his neck and held him close. + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN: _A Plan Frustrated_ + +The road curled like a paper ribbon round the shoulder of a hill and +dropped into a shallow valley. To the left a little below the level +of the road, a stream ran swiftly through a narrow meadow of lush +green grass. Beyond the meadow the wall of the valley rose rough +with outcroppings of rock, and with every tuft of its herbage already +brown from the sun. On the right the northern wall rose almost from +the road's edge. The valley was long and curved slowly, and half-way +along to the point where it disappeared a secondary road, the sort of +road which is indicated in the motorist's hand-books by a dotted +line, branched off to the left, crossed the stream by a stone bridge +and vanished in a cleft of the southern wall. Beyond this branching +road grew trees. The stream disappeared under them as though it ran +into a cavern; the slopes on either side were hidden behind +trees--trees so thick that here at this end the valley looked bare in +the strong sunlight, but low trees, as if they had determined to +harmonise with their environment. Indeed, the whole valley had a +sort of doll's-house effect--it was so shallow and narrow and +stunted. It tried to be a valley and succeeded in being a depression. + +When the little two-seater car swooped round the shoulder of the hill +and descended, the white ribbon of road was empty but for one tiny +speck at the far end, behind which a stream of dust spurted and +spread like smoke from the funnel of an engine. + +"That motor dust is going to smother us when we pass," said Jim. + +"We shall do as much for him," said Betty, looking over her shoulder +from the steering wheel. "No, worse!" Behind the car the dust was a +screen. "But I don't mind, do you, Jim?" she asked with a laugh, in +which for the first time, with a heart of thankfulness, Jim heard a +note of gaiety. "To be free of that town if only for an hour! Oh!" +and Betty opened her lungs to the sunlight and the air. "This is my +first hour of liberty for a week!" + +Frobisher was glad, too, to be out upon the slopes of the Côte-d'Or. +The city of Dijon was ringing that morning with the murder of Jean +Cladel; you could not pass down a street but you heard his name +mentioned and some sarcasms about the police. He wished to forget +that nightmare of a visit to the street of Gambetta and the dreadful +twisted figure on the floor of the back room. + +"You'll be leaving it for good very soon, Betty," he said +significantly. + +Betty made a little grimace at him, and laid her hand upon his sleeve. + +"Jim!" she said, and the colour rose into her face, and the car +swerved across the road. "You mustn't speak like that to the girl at +the wheel," she said with a laugh as she switched the car back into +its course, "or I shall run down the motor-cyclist and that young +lady in the side-car." + +"The young lady," said Jim, "happens to be a port-manteau!" + +The motor-cyclist, indeed, was slowing down as he came nearer to the +branching road, like a tourist unacquainted with the country, and +when he actually reached it he stopped altogether and dismounted. +Betty brought her car to a standstill beside him, and glanced at the +clock and the speedometer in front of her. + +"Can I help you?" she asked. + +The man standing beside the motor-cycle was a young man, slim, dark, +and of a pleasant countenance. He took off his helmet and bowed +politely. + +"Madame, I am looking for Dijon," he said in a harsh accent which +struck Frobisher as somehow familiar to his ears. + +"Monsieur, you can see the tip of it through that gap across the +valley," Betty returned. In the very centre of the cleft the point +of the soaring spire of the cathedral stood up like a delicate lance. +"But I warn you that that way, though short, is not good." + +Through the gradually thinning cloud of dust which hung behind the +car they heard the jug-jug of another motor-cycle. + +"The road by which we have come is the better one," she continued. + +"But how far is it?" the young man asked. + +Betty once more consulted her speedometer. + +"Forty kilometres, and we have covered them in forty minutes, so that +you can see the going is good. We started at eleven punctually, and +it is now twenty minutes to twelve." + +"Surely we started before eleven?" Jim interposed. + +"Yes, but we stopped for a minute or two to tighten the strap of the +tool-box on the edge of the town. And we started from there at +eleven." + +The motor-cyclist consulted his wrist-watch. + +"Yes, it's twenty minutes to twelve now," he said. "But forty +kilometres! I doubt if I have the essence. I think I must try the +nearer road." + +The second motor-cycle came out of the dust like a boat out of a sea +mist and slowed down in turn at the side of them. The rider jumped +out of his saddle, pushed his goggles up on to his forehead and +joined in the conversation. + +"That little road, Monsieur. It is not one of the national highways. +That shows itself at a glance. But it is not so bad. From the stone +bridge one can be at the Hôtel de Ville of Dijon in twenty-five +minutes." + +"I thank you," said the young man. "You will pardon me. I have been +here for seven minutes, and I am expected." + +He replaced his helmet, mounted his machine, and with a splutter and +half a dozen explosions ran down into the bed of the valley. + +The second cyclist readjusted his goggles. + +"Will you go first, Madame?" he suggested. "Otherwise I give you my +dust." + +"Thank you!" said Betty with a smile, and she slipped in the clutch +and started. + +Beyond the little forest and the curve the ground rose and the valley +flattened out. Across their road a broad highway set with kilometre +stones ran north and south. + +"The road to Paris," said Betty as she stopped the car in front of a +little inn with a tangled garden at the angle. She looked along the +road Pariswards. "Air!" she said, and drew a breath of longing, +whilst her eyes kindled and her white strong teeth clicked as though +she was biting a sweet fruit. + +"Soon, Betty," said Jim. "Very soon!" + +Betty drove the car into a little yard at the side of the river. + +"We will lunch here, in the garden," she said, "all amongst the +earwigs and the roses." + +An omelet, a cutlet perfectly cooked and piping hot, with a salad and +a bottle of Clos du Prince of the 1904 vintage brought the glowing +city of Paris immeasurably nearer to them. They sat in the open +under the shade of a tall hedge; they had the tangled garden to +themselves; they laughed and made merry in the golden May, and +visions of wonder trembled and opened before Jim Frobisher's eyes. + +Betty swept them away, however, when he had lit a cigar and she a +cigarette; and their coffee steamed from the little cups in front of +them. + +"Let us be practical, Jim," she said. "I want to talk to you." + +The sparkle of gaiety had left her face. + +"Yes!" he asked. + +"About Ann." Her eyes swept round and rested on Jim's face. "She +ought to go." + +"Run away!" cried Jim with a start. + +"Yes, at once and as secretly as possible." + +Jim turned the proposal over in his mind whilst Betty waited in +suspense. + +"It couldn't be managed," he objected. + +"It could." + +"Even if it could, would she consent?" + +"She does." + +"Of course it's pleading guilty," he said slowly. + +"Oh, it isn't, Jim. She wants time, that's all. Time for my +necklace to be traced, time for the murderer of Jean Cladel to be +discovered. You remember what I told you about Hanaud? He must have +his victim. You wouldn't believe me, but it's true. He has got to +go back to Paris and say, 'You see, they sent from Dijon for me, and +five minutes! That's all I needed! Five little minutes and there's +your murderess, all tied up and safe!' He tried to fix it on me +first." + +"No." + +"He did, Jim. And now that has failed he has turned on Ann. She'll +have to go. Since he can't get me he'll take my friend--yes, and +manufacture the evidence into the bargain." + +"Betty! Hanaud wouldn't do that!" Frobisher protested. + +"But, Jim, he has done it," she said. + +"When?" + +"When he put that Edinburgh man's book about the arrow poison back +upon the bookshelf in the library." + +Jim was utterly taken back. + +"Did you know that he had done that?" + +"I couldn't help knowing," she answered. "The moment he took the +book down it was clear to me. He knew it from end to end, as if it +was a primer. He could put his finger on the plates, on the history +of my uncle's arrow, on the effect of the poison, on the solution +that could be made of it in an instant. He pretended that he had +learnt all that in the half-hour he waited for us. It wasn't +possible. He had found that book the afternoon before somewhere and +had taken it away with him secretly and sat up half the night over +it. That's what he had done." + +Jim Frobisher was sunk in confusion. He had been guessing first this +person, then that, and in the end had had to be told the truth; +whereas Betty had reached it in a flash by using her wits. He felt +that he had been just one minute and a half in the bull-ring. + +Betty added in a hot scorn: + +"Then when he had learnt it all up by heart he puts it back secretly +in the bookshelf and accuses us." + +"But he admits he put it back," said Jim slowly. + +Betty was startled. + +"When did he admit it?" + +"Last night. To me," replied Jim, and Betty laughed bitterly. She +would hear no good of Hanaud. + +"Yes, now that he has something better to go upon." + +"Something better?" + +"The disappearance of my necklace. Oh, Jim, Ann has got to go. If +she could get to England they couldn't bring her back, could they? +They haven't evidence enough. It's only suspicion and suspicion and +suspicion. But here in France it's different, isn't it? They can +hold people on suspicion, keep them shut up by themselves and +question them again and again. Oh, yesterday afternoon in the +hall--don't you remember, Jim?--I thought Hanaud was going to arrest +her there and then." + +Jim Frobisher nodded. + +"I thought so, too." + +He had been a little shocked by Betty's proposal, but the more +familiar he became with it, the more it appealed to him. There was +an overpowering argument in its favour of which neither he nor Hanaud +had told Betty a word. The shaft of the arrow had been discovered in +Ann Upcott's room, and the dart in the house of Jean Cladel. These +were overpowering facts. On the whole, it was better that Ann should +go, now, whilst there was still time--if, that is, Hanaud did +undoubtedly believe her to be guilty. + +"But it is evident that he does," cried Betty. + +Jim answered slowly: + +"I suppose he does. We can make sure, anyway. I had a doubt last +night. So I asked him point-blank." + +"And he answered you?" Betty asked with a gasp. + +"Yes and no. He gave me the strangest answer." + +"What did he say?" + +"He told me to visit the Church of Notre Dame. If I did, I should +read upon the façade whether Ann was innocent or not." + +Slowly every tinge of colour ebbed out of Betty's face. Her eyes +stared at him horror-stricken. She sat, a figure of ice--except for +her eyes which blazed. + +"That's terrible," she said with a low voice, and again "That's +terrible!" Then with a cry she stood erect "You shall see! Come!" +and she ran towards the motorcar. + +The sunlit day was spoilt for both of them. Betty drove homewards, +bending over the wheel, her eyes fixed ahead. But Frobisher wondered +whether she saw anything at all of that white road which the car +devoured. Once as they dropped from the highland and the forests to +the plains, she said: + +"We shall abide by what we see?" + +"Yes." + +"If Hanaud thinks her innocent, she should stay. If he thinks her +guilty, she must go." + +"Yes," said Frobisher. + +Betty guided the car through the streets of the city, and into a wide +square. A great church of the Renaissance type, with octagonal +cupolas upon its two towers and another little cupola surmounted by a +loggia above its porch, confronted them. Betty stopped the car and +led Frobisher into the porch. Above the door was a great bas-relief +of the Last Judgment, God amongst the clouds, angels blowing +trumpets, and the damned rising from their graves to undergo their +torments. Both Betty and Frobisher gazed at the representation for a +while in silence. To Frobisher it was a cruel and brutal piece of +work which well matched Hanaud's revelation of his true belief. + +"Yes, the message is easy to read," he said: and they drove back in a +melancholy silence to the Maison Crenelle. + +The chauffeur, Georges, came forward from the garage to take charge +of the car. Betty ran inside the house and waited for Jim Frobisher +to join her. + +"I am so sorry," she said in a broken voice. "I kept a hope +somewhere that we were all mistaken ... I mean as to the danger Ann +was in.... I don't believe for a moment in her guilt, of course. +But she must go--that's clear." + +She went slowly up the stairs, and Jim saw no more of her until +dinner was served long after its usual hour. Ann Upcott he had not +seen at all that day, nor did he even see her then. Betty came to +him in the library a few minutes before nine. + +"We are very late, I am afraid. There are just the two of us, Jim," +she said with a smile, and she led the way into the dining-room. + +Through the meal she was anxious and preoccupied, nodding her assent +to anything that he said, with her thoughts far away and answering +him at random, or not answering him at all. She was listening, +Frobisher fancied, for some sound in the hall, an expected sound +which was overdue. For her eyes went continually to the clock, and a +flurry and agitation, very strange in one naturally so still, became +more and more evident in her manner. At length, just before ten +o'clock, they both heard the horn of a motor-car in the quiet street. +The car stopped, as it seemed to Frobisher, just outside the gates, +and upon that there followed the sound for which Betty had so +anxiously been listening--the closing of a heavy door by some one +careful to close it quietly. Betty shot a quick glance at Jim +Frobisher and coloured when he intercepted it. A few seconds +afterwards the car moved on, and Betty drew a long breath. Jim +Frobisher leaned forward to Betty. Though they were alone in the +room, he spoke in a low voice of surprise: + +"Ann Upcott has gone then?" + +"Yes." + +"So soon? You had everything already arranged then?" + +"It was all arranged yesterday evening. She should be in Paris +to-morrow morning, England to-morrow night. If only all goes well!" + +Even in the stress of her anxiety Betty had been sensitive to a tiny +note of discontent in Jim Frobisher's questions. He had been left +out of the counsels of the two girls, their arrangements had been +made without his participation, he had only been told of them at the +last minute, just as if he was a babbler not to be trusted and an +incompetent whose advice would only have been a waste of time. Betty +made her excuses. + +"It would have been better, of course, if we had got you to help us, +Jim. But Ann wouldn't have it. She insisted that you had come out +here on my account, and that you mustn't be dragged into such an +affair as her flight and escape at all. She made it a condition, so +I had to give way. But you can help me now tremendously." + +Jim was appeased. Betty at all events had wanted him, was still +alarmed lest their plan undertaken without his advice might miscarry. + +"How can I help?" + +"You can go to that cinema and keep Monsieur Hanaud engaged. It's +important that he should know nothing about Ann's flight until late +to-morrow." + +Jim laughed at the futility of Hanaud's devices to hide himself. It +was obviously all over the town that he spent his evenings in the +Grande Taverne. + +"Yes, I'll go," he returned. "I'll go now." + +But Hanaud was not that night in his accustomed place, and Jim sat +there alone until half-past ten. Then a man strolled out from one of +the billiard-rooms, and standing behind Jim with his eyes upon the +screen, said in a whisper: + +"Do not look at me, Monsieur! It is Moreau. I go outside. Will you +please to follow." + +He strolled away. Jim gave him a couple of minutes' grace. He had +remembered Hanaud's advice and had paid for his Bock when it had been +brought to him. The little saucer was turned upside down to show +that he owed nothing. When two minutes had elapsed he sauntered out +and, looking neither to the right nor to the left, strolled +indolently along the Rue de la Gare. When he reached the Place Darcy +Nicolas Moreau passed him without a sign of recognition and struck +off to the right along the Rue de la Liberté. Frobisher followed him +with a sinking heart. It was folly of course to imagine that Hanaud +could be so easily eluded. No doubt that motor-car had been stopped. +No doubt Ann Upcott was already under lock and key! Why, the last +words he had heard Hanaud speak were "I must be quick!" + +Moreau turned off into the Boulevard Sevigne and, doubling back to +the station square, slipped into one of the small hotels which +cluster in that quarter. The lobby was empty; a staircase narrow and +steep led from it to the upper stories. Moreau now ascended it with +Frobisher at his heels, and opened a door. Frobisher looked into a +small and dingy sitting-room at the back of the house. The windows +were open, but the shutters were closed. A single pendant in the +centre of the room gave it light, and at a table under the pendant +Hanaud sat poring over a map. + +The map was marked with red ink in a curious way. A sort of hoop, +very much the shape of a tennis racket without its handle, was +described upon it and from the butt to the top of the hoop an +irregular line was drawn, separating the hoop roughly into two +semi-circles. Moreau left Jim Frobisher standing there, and in a +moment or two Hanaud looked up. + +"Did you know, my friend," he asked very gravely, "that Ann Upcott +has gone to-night to Madame Le Vay's fancy dress ball?" + +Frobisher was taken completely by surprise. + +"No, I see that you didn't," Hanaud went on. He took up his pen and +placed a red spot at the edge of the hoop close by the butt. + +Jim recovered from his surprise. Madame Le Vay's ball was the spot +from which the start was to be made. The plan after all was not so +ill-devised, if only Ann could have got to the ball unnoticed. +Masked and in fancy dress, amongst a throng of people similarly +accoutred, in a house with a garden, no doubt thrown open upon this +hot night and lit only by lanterns discreetly dim--she had thus her +best chance of escape. But the chance was already lost. For Hanaud +laid down his pen again and said in ominous tones: + +"The water-lily, eh? That pretty water-lily, my friend, will not +dance very gaily to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY: _Map and the Necklace_ + +Hanaud turned his map round and pushed it across the table to Jim +Frobisher. + +"What do you make of that?" he asked, and Jim drew up a chair and sat +down to examine it. + +He made first of all a large scale map of Dijon and its environments, +the town itself lying at the bottom of the red hoop and constituting +the top of the handle of the tennis racket. As to the red circle, it +seemed to represent a tour which some one had made out from Dijon, +round a good tract of outlying country and back again to the city. +But there was more to it than that. The wavy dividing line, for +instance, from the top of the circle to the handle, that is to Dijon; +and on the left-hand edge of the hoop, as he bent over the map, and +just outside Dijon, the red mark, a little red square which Hanaud +had just made. Against this square an hour was marked. + +"Eleven a.m.," he read. + +He followed the red curve with his eyes and just where this dividing +line touched the rim of the hoop, another period was inscribed. Here +Frobisher read: + +"Eleven forty." + +Frobisher looked up at Hanaud in astonishment. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed, and he bent again over the map. The point +where the dividing line branched off was in a valley, as he could see +by the contours--yes--he had found the name now--the Val Terzon. +Just before eleven o'clock Betty had stopped the car just outside +Dijon, opposite a park with a big house standing back, and had asked +him to tighten the strap of the tool box. They had started again +exactly at eleven. Betty had taken note of the exact time--and they +had stopped where the secondary road branched off and doubled back to +Dijon, at the top of the hoop, at the injunction of the rim and the +dividing line, exactly at eleven forty. + +"This is a chart of the expedition we made to-day," he cried. "We +were followed then?" + +He remembered suddenly the second motor-cyclist who had come up from +behind through the screen of their dust and had stopped by the side +of their car to join in their conversation with the tourist. + +"The motor-cyclist?" he asked, and again he got no answer. + +But the motor-cyclist had not followed them all the way round. On +their homeward course they had stopped to lunch in the tangled +garden. There had been no sign of the man. Jim looked at the map +again. He followed the red line from the junction of the two roads, +round the curve of the valley, to the angle where the great National +road to Paris cut across and where they had lunched. After luncheon +they had continued along the National road into Dijon, whereas the +red line crossed it and came back by a longer and obviously a less +frequented route. + +"I can't imagine why you had us followed this morning, Monsieur +Hanaud," he exclaimed with some heat. "But I can tell you this. The +chase was not very efficiently contrived. We didn't come home that +way at all." + +"I haven't an idea how you came home," Hanaud answered imperturbably. +"The line on that side of the circle has nothing to do with you at +all, as you can see for yourself by looking at the time marked where +the line begins." + +The red hoop at the bottom was not complete; there was a space where +the spliced handle of the racket would fit in, the space filled by +the town of Dijon, and at the point on the right hand side where the +line started Frobisher read in small but quite clear figures: + +"Ten twenty-five a.m." + +Jim was more bewildered than ever. + +"I don't understand one word of it," he cried. + +Hanaud reached over and touched the point with the tip of his pen. + +"This is where the motor-cyclist started, the cyclist who met you at +the branch road at eleven-forty." + +"The tourist?" asked Jim. A second ago it had seemed to him +impossible that the fog could thicken about his wits any more. And +yet it had. + +"Let us say the man with the portmanteau on his trailer," Hanaud +corrected. "You see that he left his starting point in Dijon +thirty-five minutes before you left yours. The whole manoeuvre seems +to have been admirably planned. For you met precisely at the +arranged spot at eleven-forty. Neither the car nor the cycle had to +wait one moment." + +"Manoeuvre! Arranged spot!" Frobisher exclaimed, looking about him +in a sort of despair. "Has every one gone crazy? Why in the world +should a man start out with a portmanteau in a side-car from Dijon at +ten twenty-five, run thirty or forty miles into the country by a +roundabout road and then return by a bad straight track? There's no +sense in it!" + +"No doubt it's perplexing," Hanaud agreed. He nodded to Moreau who +went out of the room by a communicating door towards the front of the +house. "But I can help you," Hanaud continued. "At the point where +you started after tightening the strap of the tool-box, on the edge +of the town, a big country house stands back in a park?" + +"Yes," said Jim. + +"That is the house of Madame Le Vay where this fancy dress ball takes +place to-night." + +"Madame Le Vay's château!" Frobisher repeated. "Where----" he began +a question and caught it back. But Hanaud completed it for him. + +"Yes, where Ann Upcott now is. You started from it at precisely +eleven in the morning." He looked at his watch. "It is not yet +quite eleven at night. So she is still there." + +Frobisher started back in his chair. Hanaud's words were like the +blade of silver light cutting through the darkness of the cinema hall +and breaking into a sheet of radiance upon the screen. The meaning +of the red diagram upon Hanaud's map, the unsuspected motive of +Betty's expedition this morning were revealed to him. + +"It was a rehearsal," he cried. + +Hanaud nodded. + +"A time-rehearsal." + +"Yes, the sort of thing which takes place in theatres, without the +principal members of the company," thought Frobisher. But a moment +later he was dissatisfied with that explanation. + +"Wait a moment!" he said. "That won't do, I fancy." + +The motor-cyclist with the side-car had brought his arguments to a +standstill. His times were marked upon the map; they were therefore +of importance. What had he to do with Ann Upcott's escape? But he +visualised the motor-cyclist and his side-car and his connection with +the affair became evident. The big portmanteau gave Frobisher the +clue. Ann Upcott would be leaving Madame Le Vay's house in her +ball-dress, just as if she was returning to the Maison Crenelle--and +without any luggage at all. She could not arrive in Paris in the +morning like that if she were to avoid probably suspicion and +certainly remark. The motor-cyclist was to meet her in the Val +Terzon, transfer her luggage rapidly to her car, and then return to +Dijon by the straight quick road whilst Ann turned off at the end of +the valley to Paris. He remembered now that seven minutes had +elapsed between the meeting of the cycle and the motor-car and their +separation. Seven minutes then were allowed for the transference of +the luggage. Another argument flashed into his thoughts. Betty had +told him nothing of this plan. It had been presented to him as a +mere excursion on a summer day, her first hours of liberty naturally +employed. Her silence was all of a piece with the determination of +Betty and Ann Upcott to keep him altogether out of the conspiracy. +Every detail fitted like the blocks in a picture puzzle. Yes, there +had been a time-rehearsal. And Hanaud knew all about it! + +That was the disturbing certainty which first overwhelmed Frobisher +when he had got the better of his surprise at the scheme itself. +Hanaud knew! and Betty had so set her heart on Ann's escape. + +"Let her go!" he pleaded earnestly. "Let Ann Upcott get away to +Paris and to England!" and Hanaud leaned back in his chair with a +little gasp. The queerest smile broke over his face. + +"I see," he said. + +"Oh, I know," Frobisher exclaimed, hotly appealing. "You are of the +Sûrété and I am a lawyer, an officer of the High Court in my country +and I have no right to make such a petition. But I do without a +scruple. You can't get a conviction against Ann Upcott. You haven't +a chance of it. But you can throw such a net of suspicion about her +that she'll never get out of it. You can ruin her--yes--but that's +all you can do." + +"You speak very eagerly, my friend," Hanaud interposed. + +Jim could not explain that it was Betty's anxiety to save her friend +which inspired his plea. He fell back upon the scandal which such a +trial would cause. + +"There has been enough publicity already owing to Boris Waberski," he +continued. "Surely Miss Harlowe has had distress enough. Why must +she stand in the witness-box and give evidence against her friend in +a trial which can have no result? That's what I want you to realise, +Monsieur Hanaud. I have had some experience of criminal trials"--O +shade of Mr. Haslitt! Why was that punctilious man not there in the +flesh to wipe out with an indignant word the slur upon the firm of +Frobisher and Haslitt?--"And I assure you that no jury could convict +upon such evidence. Why, even the pearl necklace has not been +traced--and it never will be. You can take that from me, Monsieur +Hanaud! It never will be!" + +Hanaud opened a drawer in the table and took out one of those little +cedar-wood boxes made to hold a hundred cigarettes, which the better +class of manufacturers use in England for their wares. He pushed +this across the table towards Jim. Something which was more +substantial than cigarettes rattled inside of it. Jim seized upon it +in a panic. He had not a doubt that Betty would far sooner lose her +necklace altogether than that her friend Ann Upcott should be +destroyed by it. He opened the lid of the box. It was filled with +cotton-wool. From the cotton-wool he took a string of pearls +perfectly graded in size, and gleaming softly with a pink lustre +which, even to his untutored eyes, was indescribably lovely. + +"It would have been more correct if I had found them in a matchbox," +said Hanaud. "But I shall point out to Monsieur Bex that after all +matches and cigarettes are akin." + +Jim was still staring at the necklace in utter disappointment when +Moreau knocked upon the other side of the communicating door. Hanaud +looked again at his watch. + +"Yes, it is eleven o'clock. We must go. The car has started from +the house of Madame Le Vay." + +He rose from his chair, buried the necklace again within the layers +of cotton-wool, and locked it up once more in the drawer. The room +had faded away from Jim Frobisher's eyes. He was looking at a big, +brilliantly illuminated house, and a girl who slipped from a window +and, wrapping a dark cloak about her glistening dress, ran down the +dark avenue in her dancing slippers to where a car waited hidden +under trees. + +"The car may not have started," Jim said with sudden hopefulness. +"There may have been an accident to it. The chauffeur may be late. +Oh, a hundred things may have happened!" + +"With a scheme so carefully devised, so meticulously rehearsed? No, +my friend." + +Hanaud took an automatic pistol from a cabinet against the wall and +placed it in his pocket. + +"You are going to leave that necklace just like that in a table +drawer?" Jim asked. "We ought to take it first to the Prefecture." + +"This room is not unwatched," replied Hanaud. "It will be safe." + +Jim hopefully tried another line of argument. + +"We shall be too late now to intercept Ann Upcott at the branch +road," he argued. "It is past eleven, as you say--well past eleven. +And thirty-five minutes on a motor-cycle in the daytime means fifty +minutes in a car at night, especially with a bad road to travel." + +"We don't intend to intercept Ann Upcott at the branch road," Hanaud +returned. He folded up the map and put it aside upon the mantelshelf. + +"I take a big risk, you know," he said softly. "But I must take it! +And--no! I can't be wrong!" But he turned from the mantelshelf with +a very anxious and troubled face. Then, as he looked at Jim, a fresh +idea came into his mind. + +"By the way," he said. "The façade of Notre Dame?" + +Jim nodded. + +"The bas-relief of The Last Judgment. We went to see it. We thought +your way of saying what you believed a little brutal." + +Hanaud remained silent with his eyes upon the floor for a few +seconds. Then he said quietly: "I am sorry." He tacked on a +question. "You say 'we'?" + +"Mademoiselle Harlowe and I," Jim explained. + +"Oh, yes--to be sure. I should have thought of that," and once more +his troubled cry broke from him. "It must be that!--No, I can't be +wrong.... Anyway, it's too late to change now." + +A second time Moreau rapped upon the communicating door. Hanaud +sprang to alertness. + +"That's it," he said. "Take your hat and stick, Monsieur Frobisher! +Good! You are ready?" and the room was at once plunged into darkness. + +Hanaud opened the communicating door, and they passed into the front +room--a bedroom looking out upon the big station square. This room +was in darkness too. But the shutters were not closed, and there +were patches of light upon the walls from the lamps in the square and +the Grande Taverne at the corner. The three men could see one +another, and to Jim in this dusk the faces of his companions appeared +of a ghastly pallor. + +"Daunay took his position when I first knocked," said Moreau. +"Patinot has just joined him." + +He pointed across the square to the station buildings. Some cabs +were waiting for the Paris train, and in front of them two men +dressed like artisans were talking. One of them lit a cigarette from +the stump of a cigarette held out to him by his companion. The +watchers in the room saw the end of the cigarette glow red. + +"The way is clear, Monsieur," said Moreau. "We can go." And he +turned and went out of the inn to the staircase. Jim started to +follow him. Whither they were going Jim had not a notion, not even a +conjecture. But he was gravely troubled. All his hopes and Betty's +hopes for the swift and complete suppression of the Waberski affair +had seemingly fallen to the ground. He was not reassured when +Hanaud's hand was laid on his arm and detained him. + +"You understand, Monsieur Frobisher," said Hanaud with a quiet +authority, his eyes shining very steadily in the darkness, his face +glimmering very white, "that now the Law of France takes charge. +There must not be a finger raised or a word spoken to hinder officers +upon their duty. On the other hand, I make you in return the promise +you desire. No one shall be arrested on suspicion. Your own eyes +shall bear me out." + +The two men followed Moreau down the stairs and into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: _The Secret House_ + +It was a dark, clear night, the air very still and warm, and the sky +bright with innumerable stars. The small company penetrated into the +town by the backways and narrow alleys. Daunay going on ahead, +Patinot the last by some thirty yards, and Moreau keeping upon the +opposite side of the street. Once they had left behind them the +lights of the station square, they walked amongst closed doors and +the blind faces of unlit houses. Frobisher's heart raced within his +bosom. He strained his eyes and ears for some evidence of spies upon +their heels. But no one was concealed in any porch, and not the +stealthiest sound of a pursuit was borne to their hearing. + +"On a night like this," he said in tones which, strive as he might to +steady them, were still a little tremulous, "one could hear a +footstep on the stones a quarter of a mile away, and we hear nothing. +Yet, if there is a gang, it can hardly be that we are unwatched." + +Hanaud disagreed. "This is a night for alibis," he returned, +lowering his voice; "good, sound, incontestable alibis. All but +those engaged will be publicly with their friends, and those engaged +do not know how near we are to their secrets." + +They turned into a narrow street and kept on its left-hand side. + +"Do you know where we are?" Hanaud asked. "No? Yet we are near to +the Maison Crenelle. On the other side of these houses to our left +runs the street of Charles-Robert." + +Jim Frobisher stopped dead. + +"It was here, then, that you came last night after I left you at the +Prefecture," he exclaimed. + +"Ah, you recognised me, then!" Hanaud returned imperturbably. "I +wondered whether you did when you turned at the gates of your house." + +On the opposite side of the street the houses were broken by a high +wall, in which two great wooden doors were set. Behind the wall, at +the end of a courtyard, the upper storey and the roof of a +considerable house rose in a steep ridge against the stars. + +Hanaud pointed towards it. + +"Look at that house, Monsieur! There Madame Raviart came to live +whilst she waited to be set free. It belongs to the Maison Crenelle. +After she married Simon Harlowe, they would never let it, they kept +it just as it was, the shrine of their passion--that strange romantic +couple. But there was more romance in that, to be sure. It has been +unoccupied ever since." + +Jim Frobisher felt a chill close about his heart. Was that house the +goal to which Hanaud was leading him with so confident a step? He +looked at the gates and the house. Even in the night it had a look +of long neglect and decay, the paint peeling from the doors and not a +light in any window. + +Some one in the street, however, was awake, for just above their +heads, a window was raised with the utmost caution and a whisper +floated down to them. + +"No one has appeared." + +Hanaud took no open notice of the whisper. He did not pause in his +walk, but he said to Frobisher: + +"And, as you hear, it is still unoccupied." + +At the end of the street Daunay melted away altogether. Hanaud and +Frobisher crossed the road and, with Moreau just ahead, turned down a +passage between, the houses to the right. + +Beyond the passage they turned again to the right into a narrow lane +between high walls; and when they had covered thirty yards or so, +Frobisher saw the branches of leafy trees over the wall upon his +right. It was so dark here under the shade of the boughs that +Frobisher could not even see his companions; and he knocked against +Moreau before he understood that they had come to the end of their +journey. They were behind the garden of the house in which Madame +Raviart had lived and loved. + +Hanaud's hand tightened upon Jim Frobisher's arm, constraining him to +absolute immobility. Patinot had vanished as completely and +noiselessly as Daunay. The three men left stood in the darkness and +listened. A sentence which Ann Upcott had spoken in the garden of +the Maison Crenelle, when she had been describing the terror with +which she had felt the face bending over her in the darkness, came +back to him. He had thought it false then. He took back his +criticism now. For he too imagined that the beating of his heart +must wake all Dijon. + +They stood there motionless for the space of a minute, and then, at a +touch from Hanaud, Nicolas Moreau stooped. Frobisher heard the palm +of his hand sliding over wood and immediately after the tiniest +little click as a key was fitted into a lock and turned. A door in +the wall swung silently open and let a glimmer of light into the +lane. The three men passed into a garden of weeds and rank grass and +overgrown bushes. Moreau closed and locked the door behind them. As +he locked the door the clocks of the city struck the half hour. + +Hanaud whispered in Frobisher's ear: + +"They have not yet reached the Val Terzon. Come!" + +They crept over the mat of grass and weeds to the back of the house. +A short flight of stone steps, patched with mould, descended from a +terrace; at the back of the terrace were shuttered windows. But in +the corner of the house, on a level with the garden, there was a +door. Once more Moreau stooped, and once more a door swung inwards +without a sound. But whereas the garden door had let through some +gleam of twilight, this door opened upon the blackness of the pit. +Jim Frobisher shrank back from it, not in physical fear but in an +appalling dread that some other man than he, wearing his clothes and +his flesh, would come out of that door again. His heart came to a +standstill, and then Hanaud pushed him gently into the passage. The +door was closed behind them, an almost inaudible sound told him that +now the door was locked. + +"Listen!" Hanaud whispered sharply. His trained ear had caught a +sound in the house above them. And in a second Frobisher heard it +too, a sound regular and continuous and very slight, but in that +uninhabited house filled with uttermost blackness, very daunting. +Gradually the explanation dawned upon Jim. + +"It's a clock ticking," he said under his breath. + +"Yes! A clock ticking away in the empty house!" returned Hanaud. +And though his answer was rather breathed than whispered, there was a +queer thrill in it the sound of which Jim could not mistake. The +hunter had picked up his spoor. Just beyond the quarry would come in +view. + +Suddenly a thread of light gleamed along the passage, lit up a short +flight of stairs and a door on the right at the head of them, and +went out again. Hanaud slipped his electric torch back into his +pocket and, passing Moreau, took the lead. The door at the head of +the stairs opened with a startling whine of its hinges. Frobisher +stopped with his heart in his throat, though what he feared he could +not have told even himself. Again the thread of light shone, and +this time it explored. The three found themselves in a stone-flagged +hall. + +Hanaud crossed it, extinguished his torch and opened a door. A +broken shutter, swinging upon a hinge, enabled them dimly to see a +gallery which stretched away into the gloom. The faint light +penetrating from the window showed them a high double door leading to +some room at the back of the house. Hanaud stole over the boards and +laid his ear to the panel. In a little while he was satisfied; his +hand dropped to the knob and a leaf of the door opened noiselessly. +Once more the torch glowed. Its beam played upon the high ceiling, +the tall windows shrouded in heavy curtains of red silk brocade, and +revealed to Frobisher's amazement a room which had a look of daily +use. All was orderly and clean, the furniture polished and in good +repair; there were fresh flowers in the vases, whose perfume filled +the air; and it was upon the marble chimney-piece of this room that +the clock ticked. + +The room was furnished with lightness and elegance, except for one +fine and massive press, with double doors in marquetry, which +occupied a recess near to the fireplace. Girandoles with mirrors and +gilt frames, now fitted with electric lights, were fixed upon the +walls, with a few pictures in water-colour. A chandelier glittering +with lustres hung from the ceiling, an Empire writing-table stood +near the window, a deep-cushioned divan stretched along the wall +opposite the fire-place. So much had Frobisher noticed when the +light again went out. Hanaud closed the door upon the room again. + +"We shall be hidden in the embrasure of any of these windows," Hanaud +whispered, when they were once more in the long gallery. "No light +will be shown here with that shutter hanging loose, we may be sure. +Meanwhile let us watch and be very silent." + +They took their stations in the deep shadows by the side of the +window with the broken shutter. They could see dimly the courtyard +and the great carriage doors in the wall at the end of it, and they +waited; Jim Frobisher under such a strain of dread and expectancy +that each second seemed an hour, and he wondered at the immobility of +his companions. The only sound of breathing that he heard came from +his own lungs. + +In a while Hanaud laid a hand upon his sleeve, and the clasp of the +hand tightened and tightened. Motionless though he stood like a man +in a seizure, Hanaud too was in the grip of an intense excitement. +For one of the great leaves of the courtyard door was opening +silently. It opened just a little way and as silently closed again. +But some one had slipped in--so vague and swift and noiseless a +figure that Jim would have believed his imagination had misled him +but for a thicker blot of darkness at the centre of the great door. +There some one stood now who had not stood there a minute before, as +silent and still as any of the watchers in the gallery, and more +still than one. For Hanaud moved suddenly away on the tips of his +toes into the deepest of the gloom and, sinking down upon his heels, +drew his watch from his pocket. He drew his coat closely about it +and for a fraction of a second flashed his torchlight on the dial. +It was now five minutes past twelve. + +"It is the time," he breathed as he crept back to his place. "Listen +now!" + +A minute passed and another. Frobisher found himself shivering as a +man shivers at a photographer's when he is told by the operator to +keep still. He had a notion that he was going to fall. Then a +distant noise caught his ear, and at once his nerves grew steady. It +was the throb of a motor-cycle, and it grew louder and louder. He +felt Hanaud stiffen at his side. Hanaud had been right, then! The +conviction deepened in his mind. When all had been darkness and +confusion to him, Hanaud from the first had seen clearly. But what +had he seen? Frobisher was still unable to answer that question, and +whilst he fumbled amongst conjectures a vast relief swept over him. +For the noise of the cycle had ceased altogether. It had roared +through some contiguous street and gone upon its way into the open +country. Not the faintest pulsation of its engine was any longer +audible. That late-faring traveller had taken Dijon in his stride. + +In a revulsion of relief he pictured him devouring the road, the glow +of his lamp putting the stars to shame, the miles leaping away behind +him; and suddenly the pleasant picture was struck from before his +vision and his heart fluttered up into his throat. For the leaf of +the great coach-door was swung wider, and closed again, and the +motor-cycle with its side-car was within the courtyard. The rider +had slipped out his clutch and stopped his engine more than a hundred +yards away in the other street. His own impetus had been enough and +more than enough to swing him round the corner along the road and +into the courtyard. The man who had closed the door moved to his +side as he dismounted. Between them they lifted something from the +side-car and laid it on the ground. The watchman held open the door +again, the cyclist wheeled out his machine, the door was closed, a +key turned in the lock. Not a word had been spoken, not an +unnecessary movement made. It had all happened within the space of a +few seconds. The man waited by the gate, and in a little while from +some other street the cyclist's engine was heard once more to throb. +His work was done. + +Jim Frobisher wondered that Hanaud should let him go. But Hanaud had +eyes for no one but the man who was left behind and the big package +upon the ground under the blank side wall. The man moved to it, +stooped, raised it with an appearance of effort, then stood upright +holding it in his arms. It was something shapeless and long and +heavy. So much the watchers in the gallery could see, but no more. + +The man in the courtyard moved towards the door without a sound; and +Hanaud drew his companions back from the window of the broken +shutter. Quick as they were, they were only just in time to escape +from that revealing twilight. Already the intruder with his burden +stood within the gallery. The front door was unlatched, that was +clear. It had needed but a touch to open it. The intruder moved +without a sound to the double door, of which Hanaud had opened one +leaf. He stood in front of it, pushed it with his foot and both the +leaves swung inwards. He disappeared into the room. But the faint +misty light had fallen upon him for a second, and though none could +imagine who he was, they all three saw that what he carried was a +heavy sack. + +Now, at all events, Hanaud would move, thought Frobisher. But he did +not. They all heard the man now, but not his footsteps. It was just +the brushing of his clothes against furniture: then came a soft, +almost inaudible sound, as though he had laid his burden down upon +the deep-cushioned couch: then he himself reappeared in the doorway, +his arms empty, his hat pressed down upon his forehead, and a dim +whiteness where his face should be. But dark as it was, they saw the +glitter of his eyes. + +"It will be now," Frobisher said to himself, expecting that Hanaud +would leap from the gloom and bear the intruder to the ground. + +But this man, too, Hanaud let go. He closed the doors again, drawing +the two leaves together, and stole from the gallery. No one heard +the outer door close, but with a startling loudness some metal thing +rang upon stone, and within the house. Even Jim Frobisher understood +that the outer door had been locked and the key dropped through the +letter slot. The three men crept back to their window. They saw the +intruder cross the courtyard, open one leaf of the coach door, peer +this way and that and go. Again a key tinkled upon stones. The key +of the great door had been pushed or kicked underneath it back into +the courtyard. The clocks suddenly chimed the quarter. To +Frobisher's amazement it was a quarter-past twelve. Between the +moment when the cyclist rode his car in at the doors and now, just +five minutes had elapsed. And again, but for the three men, the +house was empty. + +Or was it empty? + +For Hanaud had slipped across to the door of the room and opened it; +and a slight sound broke out of that black room, as of some living +thing which moved uneasily. At Jim Frobisher's elbow Hanaud breathed +a sigh of relief. Something, it seemed, had happened for which he +had hardly dared to hope; some great dread he knew with certainty had +not been fulfilled. On the heels of that sigh a sharp loud click +rang out, the release of a spring, the withdrawal of a bolt. Hanaud +drew the door swiftly to and the three men fell back. Some one had +somehow entered that room, some one was moving quietly about it. +From the corner of the corridor in which they had taken refuge, the +three men saw the leaves of the door swing very slowly in upon their +hinges. Some one appeared upon the threshold, and stood motionless, +listening, and after a few seconds advanced across the gallery to the +window. It was a girl--so much they could determine from the contour +of her head and the slim neck. To the surprise of those three a +second shadow flitted to her side. Both of them peered from the +window into the courtyard. There was nothing to tell them there +whether the midnight visitors had come and gone or not yet come at +all. One of them whispered: + +"The key!" + +And the other, the shorter one, crept into the hall and returned with +the key which had been dropped through the letter slot in her hand. +The taller of the two laughed, and the sound of it, so clear, so +joyous like the trill of a bird, it was impossible for Jim Frobisher +even for a second to mistake. The second girl standing at the window +of this dark and secret house, with the key in her hand to tell her +that all that had been plotted had been done, was Betty Harlowe. Jim +Frobisher had never imagined a sound so sinister, so alarming, as +that clear, joyous laughter lilting through the silent gallery. It +startled him, it set his whole faith in the world shuddering. + +"There must be some good explanation," he argued, but his heart was +sinking amidst terrors. Of what dreadful event was that laughter to +be the prelude? + +The two figures at the window flitted back across the gallery. It +seemed that there was no further reason for precautions. + +"Shut the door, Francine," said Betty in her ordinary voice. And +when this was done, within the room the lights went on. But time and +disuse had warped the doors. They did not quite close, and between +them a golden strip of light showed like a wand. + +"Let us see now!" cried Betty. "Let us see," and again she laughed; +and under the cover of her laughter the three men crept forward and +looked in: Moreau upon his knees, Frobisher stooping above him, +Hanaud at his full height behind them all. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: _The Corona Machine_ + +The detective's hand fell softly upon Frobisher's shoulder warning +him to silence; and this warning was needed. The lustres of the big +glass chandelier were so many flashing jewels; the mirrors of the +girandoles multiplied their candle-lamps; the small gay room was +ablaze; and in the glare Betty stood and laughed. Her white +shoulders rose from a slim evening frock of black velvet; from her +carefully dressed copper hair to her black satin shoes she was as +trim as if she had just been unpacked from a bandbox; and she was +laughing whole-heartedly at a closed sack on the divan, a sack which +jerked and flapped grotesquely like a fish on a beach. Some one was +imprisoned within that sack. Jim Frobisher could not doubt who that +some one was, and it seemed to him that no sound more soulless and +cruel had ever been heard in the world than Betty's merriment. She +threw her head back: Jim could see her slender white throat working, +her shoulders flashing and shaking. She clapped her hands with a +horrible glee. Something died within Frobisher's breast as he heard +it. Was it in his heart, he wondered? It was, however, to be the +last time that Betty Harlowe laughed. + +"You can get her out, Francine," she said, and whilst Francine with a +pair of scissors cut the end of the sack loose, she sat down with her +back to it at the writing-table and unlocked a drawer. The sack was +cut away and thrown upon the floor, and now on the divan Ann Upcott +lay in her gleaming dancing-dress, her hands bound behind her back, +and her ankles tied cruelly together. Her hair was dishevelled, her +face flushed, and she had the look of one quite dazed. She drew in +deep breaths of air, with her bosom labouring. But she was unaware +for the moment of her predicament or surroundings, and her eyes +rested upon Francine and travelled from her to Betty's back without a +gleam of recognition. She wrenched a little at her wrists, but even +that movement was instinctive; and then she closed her eyes and lay +still, so still that but for her breathing the watchers at the door +would hardly have believed that she still lived. + +Betty, meanwhile, lifted from the open drawer, first a small bottle +half-filled with a pale yellow liquid, and next a small case of +morocco leather. From the case she took a hypodermic syringe and its +needle, and screwed the two parts together. + +"Is she ready?" Betty asked as she removed the stopper from the +bottle. + +"Quite, Mademoiselle," answered Francine. She began with a giggle, +but she looked at the prisoner as she spoke and she ended with a +startled gasp. For Ann was looking straight at her with the +strangest, disconcerting stare. It was impossible to say whether she +knew Francine or knowing her would not admit her knowledge. But her +gaze never faltered, it was actually terrifying by its fixity, and in +a sharp, hysterical voice Francine suddenly cried out: + +"Turn your eyes away from me, will you?" and she added with a shiver: +"It's horrible, Mademoiselle! It's like a dead person watching you +as you move about the room." + +Betty turned curiously towards the divan and Ann's eyes wandered off +to her. It seemed as though it needed just that interchange of +glances to awaken her. For as Betty resumed her work of filling the +hypodermic syringe from the bottle, a look of perplexity crept into +Ann Upcott's face. She tried to sit up, and finding that she could +not, tore at the cords which bound her wrists. Her feet kicked upon +the divan. A moan of pain broke from her lips, and with that +consciousness returned to her. + +"Betty!" she whispered, and Betty turned with the needle ready in her +hand. She did not speak, but her face spoke for her. Her upper lip +was drawn back a little from her teeth, and there was a look in her +great eyes which appalled Jim Frobisher outside the door. Once +before he had seen just that look--when Betty was lying on Mrs. +Harlowe's bed for Hanaud's experiment and he had lingered in the +treasure-room with Ann Upcott. It had been inscrutable to him then, +but it was as plain as print now. It meant murder. And so Ann +Upcott understood it. Helpless as she was, she shrank back upon the +divan; in a panic she spoke with faltering lips and her eyes fixed +upon Betty with a dreadful fascination. + +"Betty! You had me taken and brought here! You sent me to Madame Le +Vay's--on purpose. Oh! The letter, then! The anonymous +letter!"--and a new light broke in upon Ann's mind, a new terror +shook her. "You wrote it! Betty, you! You--the Scourge!" + +She sank back and again struggled vainly with her bonds. Betty rose +from her chair and crossed the room towards her, the needle shining +bright in her hand. Her hapless prisoner saw it. + +"What's that?" she cried, and she screamed aloud. The extremity of +her horror lent to her an unnatural strength. Somehow she dragged +herself up and got her feet to the ground. Somehow she stood +upright, swaying as she stood. + +"You are going to----" she began, and broke off. "Oh, no! You +couldn't! You couldn't!" + +Betty put out a hand and laid it on Ann's shoulder and held her so +for a moment, savouring her vengeance. + +"Whose face was it bending so close down over yours in the darkness?" +she asked in a soft and dreadful voice. "Whose face, Ann? Guess!" +She shook her swaying prisoner with a gentleness as dreadful as her +quiet voice. "You talk too much. Your tongue's dangerous, Ann. You +are too curious, Ann! What were you doing in the treasure-room +yesterday evening with your watch in your hand? Eh? Can't you +answer, you pretty fool?" Then Betty's voice changed. It remained +low and quiet, but hatred crept into it, a deep, whole-hearted hatred. + +"You have been interfering with me too, haven't you, Ann? Oh, we +both understand very well!" And Hanaud's hand tightened upon +Frobisher's shoulder. Here was the real key and explanation of +Betty's hatred. Ann Upcott knew too much, was getting to know more, +might at any moment light upon the whole truth. Yes! Ann Upcott's +disappearance would look like a panic-stricken flight, would have the +effect of a confession--no doubt! But above all these +considerations, paramount in Betty Harlowe's mind was the resolve at +once to punish and rid herself of a rival. + +"All this week, you have been thrusting yourself in my way!" she +said. "And here's your reward for it, Ann. Yes. I had you bound +hand and foot and brought here. The water-lily!" She looked her +victim over as she stood in her delicate bright frock, her white silk +stockings and satin slippers, swaying in terror. "Fifteen minutes, +Ann! That fool of a detective was right! Fifteen minutes! That's +all the time the arrow-poison takes!" + +Ann's eyes opened wide. The blood rushed into her white face and +ebbed, leaving it whiter than it was before. + +"Arrow-poison!" she cried. "Betty! It was you, then! Oh!" she +would have fallen forward, but Betty Harlowe pushed her shoulder +gently and she fell back upon the divan. That Betty had been guilty +of that last infamy--the murder of her benefactress--not until this +moment had Ann Upcott for one moment suspected. It was clear to her, +too, that there was not the slightest hope for her. She burst +suddenly into a storm of tears. + +Betty Harlowe sat down on the divan beside her and watched her +closely and curiously with a devilish enjoyment. The sound of the +girl's sobbing was music in her ears. She would not let it flag. + +"You shall lie here in the dark all night, Ann, and alone," she said +in a low voice, bending over her, "To-morrow Espinosa will put you +under one of the stone flags in the kitchen. But to-night you shall +lie just as you are. Come!" + +She bent over Ann Upcott, gathering the flesh of her arm with one +hand and advancing the needle with the other; and a piercing scream +burst from Francine Rollard. + +"Look!" she cried, and she pointed to the door. It was open and +Hanaud stood upon the threshold. + +Betty looked up at the cry and the blood receded from her face. She +sat like an image of wax, staring at the open doorway, and a moment +afterwards with a gesture swift as lightning she drove the needle +into the flesh of her own arm and emptied it. + +Frobisher with a cry of horror started forward to prevent her, but +Hanaud roughly thrust him back. + +"I warned you, Monsieur, not to interfere," he said with a savage +note in his voice, which Jim had not heard before; and Betty Harlowe +dropped the needle on to the couch, whence it rolled to the floor. + +She sprang up now to her full height, her heels together, her arms +outstretched from her sides. + +"Fifteen minutes, Monsieur Hanaud," she cried with bravado. "I am +safe from you." + +Hanaud laughed and wagged his forefinger contemptuously in her face. + +"Coloured water, Mademoiselle, doesn't kill." + +Betty swayed upon her feet and steadied herself. + +"Bluff, Monsieur Hanaud!" she said. + +"We shall see." + +The confidence of his tone convinced her. She flashed across the +room to her writing-table. Swift as she was, Hanaud met her there. + +"Ah, no!" he cried. "That's quite a different thing!" He seized her +wrists. "Moreau!" he called, with a nod towards Francine. "And you, +Monsieur Frobisher, will you release that young lady, if you please!" + +Moreau dragged Francine Rollard from the room and locked her safely +away. Jim seized upon the big scissors and cut the cords about Ann's +wrists and ankles, and unwound them. He was aware that Hanaud had +flung the chair from the writing-table into an open space, that Betty +was struggling and then was still, that Hanaud had forced her into +the chair and snatched up one of the cords which Frobisher had +dropped upon the floor. When he had finished his work, he saw that +Betty was sitting with her hands in handcuffs and her ankles tied to +one of the legs of the chair; and Hanaud was staunching with his +handkerchief a wound in his hand which bled. Betty had bitten him +like a wild animal caught in a trap. + +"Yes, you warned me, Mademoiselle, the first morning I met you," +Hanaud said with a savage irony, "that you didn't wear a wrist-watch, +because you hated things on your wrists. My apologies! I had +forgotten!" + +He went back to the writing-table and thrust his hand into the +drawer. He drew out a small cardboard box and removed the lid. + +"Five!" he said. "Yes! Five!" + +He carried the box across the room to Frobisher, who was standing +against the wall with a face like death. + +"Look!" + +There were five white tablets in the box. + +"We know where the sixth is. Or, rather, we know where it was. For +I had it analysed to-day. Cyanide of potassium, my friend! Crunch +one of them between your teeth and--fifteen minutes? Not a bit of +it! A fraction of a second! That's all!" + +Frobisher leaned forward and whispered in Hanaud's ear. "Leave them +within her reach!" + +His first instinctive thought had been to hinder Betty from +destroying herself. Now he prayed that she might, and with so +desperate a longing that a deep pity softened Hanaud's eyes. + +"I must not, Monsieur," he said gently. He turned to Moreau. "There +is a cab waiting at the corner of the Maison Crenelle," and Moreau +went in search of it. Hanaud went over to Ann Upcott, who was +sitting upon the divan her head bowed, her body shivering. Every now +and then she handled and eased one of her tortured wrists. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, standing in front of her, "I owe you an +explanation and an apology. I never from the beginning--no, not for +one moment--believed that you were guilty of the murder of Madame +Harlowe. I was sure that you had never touched the necklace of pink +pearls--oh, at once I was sure, long before I found it. I believed +every word of the story you told us in the garden. But none of this +dared I shew you. For only by pretending that I was convinced of +your guilt, could I protect you during this last week in the Maison +Crenelle." + +"Thank you, Monsieur," she replied with a wan effort at a smile. + +"But, for to-night, I owe you an apology," he continued. "I make it +with shame. That you were to be brought back here to the tender +mercies of Mademoiselle Betty, I hadn't a doubt. And I was here to +make sure you should be spared them. But I have never in my life had +a more difficult case to deal with, so clear a conviction in my own +mind, so little proof to put before a court. I had to have the +evidence which I was certain to find in this room to-night. But I +ask you to believe me that if I had imagined for a moment the cruelty +with which you were to be handled, I should have sacrificed this +evidence. I beg you to forgive me." + +Ann Upcott held out her hand. + +"Monsieur Hanaud," she replied simply, "but for you I should not be +now alive. I should be lying here in the dark and alone, as it was +promised to me, waiting for Espinosa--and his spade." Her voice +broke and she shuddered violently so that the divan shook on which +she sat. + +"You must forget these miseries," he said gently. "You have youth, +as I told you once before. A little time and----" + +The return of Nicolas Moreau interrupted him; and with Moreau came a +couple of gendarmes and Girardot the Commissary. + +"You have Francine Rollard?" Hanaud asked. + +"You can hear her," Moreau returned dryly. + +In the corridor a commotion arose, the scuffling of feet and a +woman's voice screaming abuse. It died away. + +"Mademoiselle here will not give you so much trouble," said Hanaud. + +Betty was sitting huddled in her chair, her face averted and sullen, +her lips muttering inaudible words. She had not once looked at Jim +Frobisher since he had entered the room; nor did she now. + +Moreau stooped and untied her ankles and a big gendarme raised her +up. But her knees failed beneath her; she could not stand; her +strength and her spirit had left her. The gendarme picked her up as +if she had been a child; and as he moved to the door, Jim Frobisher +planted himself in front of him. + +"Stop!" he cried, and his voice was strong and resonant. "Monsieur +Hanaud, you have said just now that you believed every word of +Mademoiselle Ann's story." + +"It is true." + +"You believe then that Madame Harlowe was murdered at half-past ten +on the night of the 27th of April. And at half-past ten Mademoiselle +here was at Monsieur de Pouillac's ball! You will set her free." + +Hanaud did not argue the point. + +"And what of to-night?" he asked. "Stand aside, if you please!" + +Jim held his ground for a moment or two, and then drew aside. He +stood with his eyes closed, and such a look of misery upon his face +as Betty was carried out that Hanaud attempted some clumsy word of +condolence: + +"This has been a bitter experience for you, Monsieur Frobisher," he +began. + +"Would that you had taken me into your confidence at the first!" Jim +cried volubly. + +"Would you have believed me if I had?" asked Hanaud, and Jim was +silent. "As it was, Monsieur Frobisher, I took a grave risk which I +know now I had not the right to take and I told you more than you +think." + +He turned away towards Moreau. + +"Lock the courtyard doors and the door of the house after they have +gone and bring the keys here to me." + +Girardot had made a bundle of the solution, the hypodermic syringe, +the tablets of cyanide, and the pieces of cord. + +"There is something here of importance," Hanaud observed and, +stooping at the writing-table, he picked up a square, flat-topped +black case. "You will recognise this," he remarked to Jim as he +handed it to Girardot. It was the case of a Corona typewriting +machine; and from its weight, the machine itself was clearly within +the case. + +"Yes," Hanaud explained, as the door closed upon the Commissary. +"This pretty room is the factory where all those abominable letters +were prepared. Here the information was filed away for use; here the +letters were typed; from here they were issued." + +"Blackmailing letters!" cried Jim. "Letters demanding money!" + +"Some of them," answered Hanaud. + +"But Betty Harlowe had money. All that she needed, and more if she +chose to ask for it." + +"All that she needed? No," answered Hanaud with a shake of the head. +"The blackmailer never has enough money. For no one is so +blackmailed." + +A sudden and irrational fury seized upon Frobisher. They had agreed, +he and Hanaud, that there was a gang involved in all these crimes. +It might be that Betty was of them, yes, even led them, but were they +all to go scot-free? + +"There are others," he exclaimed. "The man who rode this +motor-cycle----" + +"Young Espinosa," replied Hanaud. "Did you notice his accent when +you stopped at the fork of the roads in the Val Terzon? He did not +mount his cycle again. No!" + +"And the man who carried in the--the sack?" + +"Maurice Thevenet," said Hanaud. "That promising young novice. He +is now at the Depot. He will never get that good word from me which +was to unlock Paris for him." + +"And Espinosa himself--who was to come here to-morrow----" he stopped +abruptly with his eyes on Ann. + +"And who murdered Jean Cladel, eh?" Hanaud went on. "A fool that +fellow! Why use the Catalan's knife in the Catalan's way?" Hanaud +looked at his watch. "It is over. No doubt Espinosa is under lock +and key by now. And there are others, Monsieur, of whom you have +never heard. The net has been cast wide to-night. Have no fear of +that!" + +Moreau returned with the keys and handed them to Hanaud. Hanaud put +them into a pocket and went over to Ann Upcott. + +"Mademoiselle, I shall not trouble you with any questions to-night. +To-morrow you will tell me why you went to Madame Le Vay's ball. It +was given out that you meant to run away. That, of course, was not +true. You shall give me the real reason to-morrow and an account of +what happened to you there." + +Ann shivered at the memories of that night, but she answered quietly. + +"Yes. I will tell you everything." + +"Good. Then we can go," said Hanaud cheerfully. + +"Go?" Ann Upcott asked in wonderment. "But you have had us all +locked in." + +Hanaud laughed. He had a little surprise to spring on the girl, and +he loved surprises so long as they were of his own contriving. + +"Monsieur Frobisher, I think, must have guessed the truth. This +house, Mademoiselle, the Hôtel de Brebizart is very close, as the +crow flies, to the Maison Crenelle. There is one row of houses, the +houses of the street of Charles-Robert, between. It was built by +Etienne Bouchart de Crenelle, President of the Parliament during the +reign of Louis the Fifteenth, a very dignified and important figure; +and he built it, Mademoiselle--this is the point--at the same time +that he built the Maison Crenelle. Having built it, he installed in +it a joyous lady of the province from which it takes its name--Madame +de Brebizart. There was no scandal. For the President never came +visiting Madame de Brebizart. And for the best of reasons. Between +this house and the Maison Crenelle he had constructed a secret +passage in that age of secret passages." + +Frobisher was startled. Hanaud had given credit to him for an +astuteness which he did not possess. He had been occupied heart and +brain by the events of the evening, so rapidly had they followed one +upon the other, so little time had they allowed for speculations. + +"How in the world did you discover this?" he asked. + +"You shall know in due time. For the moment let us content ourselves +with the facts," Hanaud continued. "After the death of Etienne de +Crenelle, at some period or another the secret of this passage was +lost. It is clear, too, I think that it fell into disrepair and +became blocked. At all events at the end of the eighteenth century, +the Hôtel de Brebizart passed into other hands than those of the +owner of the Maison Crenelle. Simon Harlowe, however, discovered the +secret. He bought back the Hôtel de Brebizart, restored the passage +and put it to the same use as old Etienne de Crenelle had done. For +here Madame Raviart came to live during the years before the death of +her husband set her free to marry Simon. There! My little lecture +is over. Let us go!" + +He bowed low to Ann like a lecturer to his audience and unlatched the +double doors of the big buhl cabinet in the recess of the wall. A +cry of surprise broke from Ann, who had risen unsteadily to her feet. +The cabinet was quite empty. There was not so much as a shelf, and +all could see that the floor of it was tilted up against one end and +that a flight of steps ran downwards in the thickness of the wall. + +"Come," said Hanaud, producing his electric torch. "Will you take +this, Monsieur Frobisher, and go first with Mademoiselle. I will +turn out the lights and follow." + +But Ann with a little frown upon her forehead drew sharply back. She +put a hand to Hanaud's sleeve and steadied herself by it. "I will +come with you," she said. "I am not very steady on my legs." + +She laughed her action off but both men understood it. Jim Frobisher +had thought her guilty--guilty of theft and murder. She shrank from +him to the man who had had no doubt that she was innocent. And even +that was not all. She was wounded by Jim's distrust more deeply than +any one else could have wounded her. Frobisher inclined his head in +acknowledgment and, pressing the button of the torch, descended five +or six of the narrow steps. Moreau followed him. + +"You are ready, Mademoiselle? So!" said Hanaud. + +He put an arm about her to steady her and pressed up a switch by the +open doors of the cabinet. The room was plunged in darkness. Guided +by the beam of light, they followed Frobisher on to the steps. +Hanaud closed the doors of the cabinet and fastened them together +with the bolts. + +"Forward," he cried, "and you, Mademoiselle, be careful of your heels +on these stone steps." + +When his head was just below the level of the first step he called +upon Frobisher to halt and raise the torch. Then he slid the floor +board of the cabinet back into its place. Beneath this a trap-door +hung downwards. Hanaud raised it and bolted it in place. + +"We can go on." + +Ten more steps brought them to a tiny vaulted hall. From that a +passage, bricked and paved, led into darkness. Frobisher led the way +along the passage until the foot of another flight of steps was +reached. + +"Where do these steps lead, my friend?" Hanaud asked of Frobisher, +his voice sounding with a strange hollowness in that tunnel. "You +shall tell me." + +Jim, with memories of that night when he and Ann and Betty had sat in +the dark of the perfumed garden and Ann's eyes had searched this way +and that amidst the gloom of the sycamores, answered promptly: + +"Into the garden of the Maison Crenelle." + +Hanaud chuckled. + +"And you, Mademoiselle, what do you say?" + +Ann's face clouded over. + +"I know now," she said gravely. Then she shivered and drew her cloak +slowly about her shoulders. "Let us go up and see!" + +Hanaud took the lead. He lowered a trap-door at the top of the +steps, touched a spring and slid back a panel. + +"Wait," said he, and he sprang out and turned on a light. + +Ann Upcott, Jim Frobisher and Moreau climbed out of Simon Harlowe's +Sedan chair into the treasure room. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: _The Truth About the Clock on the Marquetry +Cabinet_ + +To the amazement of them all Moreau began to laugh. Up till now he +had been alert, competent and without expression. Stolidity had been +the mark of him. And now he laughed in great gusts, holding his +sides and then wringing his hands, as though the humour of things was +altogether unbearable. Once or twice he tried to speak, but laughter +leapt upon the words and drowned them. + +"What in the world is the matter with you, Nicolas?" Hanaud asked. + +"But I beg your pardon," Moreau stammered, and again merriment seized +and mastered him. At last two intelligible words were heard. "We, +Girardot," he cried, settling an imaginary pair of glasses on the +bridge of his nose, and went off into a fit. Gradually the reason of +his paroxysms was explained in broken phrases. + +"We, Girardot!--We fix the seals upon the doors--And all the time +there is a way in and out under our nose! These rooms must not be +disturbed--No! The great Monsieur Hanaud is coming from Paris to +look at them. So we seal them tight, we, Girardot. My God! but we, +Girardot look the fool! So careful and pompous with our linen bands! +We, Girardot shall make the laughter at the Assize Court! Yes, yes, +yes! I think, we, Girardot shall hand in our resignation before the +trial is over?" + +Perhaps Moreau's humour was a little too professional for his +audience. Perhaps, too, the circumstances of that night had dulled +their appreciation; certainly Moreau had all the laughter to himself. +Jim Frobisher was driven to the little Louis Quinze clock upon the +marquetry cabinet. He never could for a moment forget it. So much +hung for Betty Harlowe upon its existence. Whatever wild words she +might have used to-night, there was the incontrovertible testimony of +the clock to prove that she had had no hand whatever in the murder of +Mrs. Harlowe. He drew his own watch from his pocket and compared it +with the clock. + +"It is exact to the minute," he declared with a little accent of +triumph. "It is now twenty-three minutes past one----" and suddenly +Hanaud was at his side with a curious air of alertness. + +"Is it so?" he asked, and he too made sure by a comparison with his +own watch that Frobisher's statement was correct. "Yes. +Twenty-three minutes past one. That is very fortunate." + +He called Ann Upcott and Moreau to him and they all now stood grouped +about the cabinet. + +"The key to the mystery about this clock," he remarked, "is to be +found in the words which Mademoiselle Ann used, when the seals were +removed from the doors and she saw this clock again, in the light of +day. She was perplexed. Isn't that so, Mademoiselle?" + +"Yes," Ann returned. "It seemed to me--it seems to me still--that +the clock was somehow placed higher than it actually is----" + +"Exactly. Let us put it to the test!" + +He looked at the clock and saw that the hands now reached twenty-six +minutes past one. + +"I will ask you all to go out of this room and wait in the hall in +the dark. For it was in the dark, you will remember, that +Mademoiselle descended the stairs. I shall turn the lights out here +and call you in. When I do, Mademoiselle will switch the lights on +and off swiftly, just as she did it on the night of the 27th of +April. Then I think all will be clear to you." + +He crossed to the door leading into the hall, and found it locked +with the key upon the inside. + +"Of course," he said, "when the passage is used to the Hôtel de +Brebizart, this door would be locked." + +He turned the key and drew the door towards him. The hall gaped +before them black and silent. Hanaud stood aside. + +"If you please!" + +Moreau and Frobisher went out; Ann Upcott hesitated and cast a look +of appeal towards Hanaud. Her perplexities were to be set at rest. +She did not doubt that. This man had saved her from death when it +seemed that nothing could save her. Her trust in him was absolute. +But her perplexities were unimportant. Some stroke was to be +delivered upon Betty Harlowe from which there could be no recovery. +Ann Upcott was not a good hater of Betty's stamp. She shrank from +the thought that it was to be her hand which would deliver that +stroke. + +"Courage, Mademoiselle!" + +Hanaud exhorted her with a friendly smile and Ann joined the others +in the dark hall. Hanaud closed the door upon them and returned to +the clock. It was twenty-eight minutes past one. + +"I have two minutes," he said to himself. "That will just do if I am +quick." + +Outside the three witnesses waited in the darkness. One of the three +shivered suddenly so that her teeth rattled in her mouth. + +"Ann," Jim Frobisher whispered and he put his hand within her arm. +Ann Upcott had come to the end of her strength. She clung to his +hand spasmodically. + +"Jim!" she answered under her breath. "Oh, but you were cruel to me!" + +Hanaud's voice called to them from within the room. + +"Come!" + +Ann stepped forward, felt for and found the handle. She threw open +the door with a nervous violence. The treasure-room was pitch dark +like the hall. Ann stepped through the doorway and her fingers +reached for the switch. + +"Now," she warned them in a voice which shook. + +Suddenly the treasure-room blazed with light; as suddenly it was +black again; and in the darkness rose a clamour of voices. + +"Half-past ten! I saw the hour!" cried Jim. + +"And again the clock was higher!" exclaimed Ann. + +"That is true," Moreau agreed. + +Hanaud's voice, from the far corner of the room, joined in. + +"Is that exactly what you saw, Mademoiselle, on the night of the +twenty-seventh?" + +"Exactly, Monsieur." + +"Then turn on the lights again and know the truth!" + +The injunction was uttered in tones so grave that it sounded like a +knell. For a second or two Ann's fingers refused their service. +Once more the conviction forced itself into her mind. Some +irretrievable calamity waited upon the movement of her hand. + +"Courage, Mademoiselle!" + +Again the lights shone, and this time they remained burning. The +three witnesses advanced into the room, and as they looked again, +from close at hand and with a longer gaze, a cry of surprise broke +from all of them. + +There was no clock upon the marquetry cabinet at all. + +But high above it in the long mirror before which it stood there was +the reflection of a clock, its white face so clear and bright that +even now it was difficult to disbelieve that this was the clock +itself. And the position of the hands gave the hour as precisely +half-past ten. + +"Now turn about and see!" said Hanaud. + +The clock itself stood upon the shelf of the Adam mantelpiece and +there staring at them, the true hour was marked. It was exactly +half-past one; the long minute hand pointing to six, the shorter hour +hand on the right-hand side of the figure twelve, half-way between +the one and the two. With a simultaneous movement they all turned +again to the mirror; and the mystery was explained. The shorter +hour-hand seen in the mirror was on the left-hand side of the figure +twelve, and just where it would have been if the hour had been +half-past ten and the clock actually where its reflection was. The +figures on the dial were reversed and difficult at a first glance to +read. + +"You see," Hanaud explained, "it is the law of nature to save itself +from effort even in the smallest things. We live with clocks and +watches. They are as customary as our daily bread. And with the +instinct to save ourselves from effort, we take our time from the +position of the hands. We take the actual figures of the hours for +granted. Mademoiselle comes out of the dark. In the one swift flash +of light she sees the hands upon the clock's face. Half-past ten! +She herself, you will remember, Monsieur Frobisher, was surprised +that the hour was so early. She was cold, as though she had slept +long in her arm-chair. She had the impression that she had slept +long. And Mademoiselle was right. For the time was half-past one, +and Betty Harlowe had been twenty minutes home from Monsieur de +Pouillac's ball." + +Hanaud ended with a note of triumph in his voice which exasperated +Frobisher. + +"Aren't you going a little too fast?" he asked. "When the seals were +removed and we entered this room for the first time, the clock was +not upon the mantelshelf but upon the marquetry cabinet." + +Hanaud nodded. + +"Mademoiselle Upcott told us her story before luncheon. We entered +this room after luncheon. During the luncheon hours the position of +the clock was changed." He pointed to the Sedan chair. "You know +now with what ease that could be done." + +"'Could, could!'" Frobisher repeated impatiently. "It doesn't follow +that it was done." + +"That is true," Hanaud replied. "So I will answer now one of the +questions in your memorandum. What was it that I saw from the top of +the Terrace Tower? I saw the smoke rising from this chimney into the +air. Oh, Monsieur, I had paid attention to this house, its windows, +and its doors, and its chimney-stacks. And there at midday, in all +the warmth of late May, the smoke was rising from the chimney of the +sealed room. There was an entrance then of which we knew nothing! +And somebody had just made use of it. Who? Ask yourself that! Who +went straight out from the Maison Crenelle the moment I had gone, and +went alone? That clock had to be changed. Apparently some letters +also had to be burnt." + +Jim hardly heard the last sentence. The clock still occupied his +thoughts. His great argument had been riddled; his one dream of +establishing Betty's innocence in despite of every presumption and +fact which could be brought against her had been dispelled. He +dropped on to a chair. + +"You understood it all so quickly," he said with bitterness. + +"Oh, I was not quick!" Hanaud answered. "Ascribe to me no gifts out +of the ordinary run, Monsieur. I am trained--that is all. I have +been my twenty minutes in the bull-ring. Listen how it came about!" +He looked at Frobisher with a comical smile. "It is a pity our eager +young friend, Maurice Thevenet, is not here to profit by the lesson. +First of all, then! I knew that Mademoiselle Betty was here doing +something of great importance. It may be only burning those letters +in the hearth. It may be more. I must wait and see. Good! There, +standing before the mirror, Mademoiselle Ann makes her little remark +that the clock seemed higher. Do I understand yet? No, no! But I +am interested. Then I notice a curious thing, a beautiful specimen +of Benvenuto Cellini's work set up high and flat on that mantelshelf +where no one can see it. So I take it down, and I carry it to the +window, and I admire it very much and I carry it back to the +mantelshelf; and then I notice four little marks upon the wood which +had been concealed by the flat case of the jewel; and those four +little marks are just the marks which the feet of that very pretty +Louis Quinze clock might have made, had it stood regularly there--in +its natural place. Yes, and the top of that marquetry cabinet so +much lower than the mantelshelf is too the natural place for the +Cellini jewel. Every one can see it there. So I say to myself: 'My +good Hanaud, this young lady has been rearranging her ornaments.' +But do I guess why? No, my friend. I told you once, and I tell you +again very humbly, that we are the servants of Chance. Chance is a +good mistress if her servants do not go to sleep; and she treated me +well that afternoon. See! I am standing in the hall, in great +trouble about this case. For nothing leads me anywhere. There is a +big old-fashioned barometer like a frying-pan on the wall behind me +and a mirror on the opposite wall in front of me. I raise my eyes +from the floor and by chance I see in the mirror the barometer behind +me. By chance my attention is arrested. For I see that the +indicator in the barometer points to stormy weather--which is +ridiculous. I turn me about so. It is to fine weather that the +indicator points. And in a flash I see. I look at the position of +the hand without looking at the letters. If I look the barometer in +the face the hand points to the fair weather. If I turn my back and +look into the mirror the hand points to the stormy weather. Now +indeed I have it! I run into the treasure-room. I lock the door, +for I do not wish to be caught. I do not move the clock. No, no, +for nothing in the world will I move that clock. But I take out my +watch. I face the mirror. I hold my watch facing the mirror, I open +the glass and I move the hands until in the mirror they seem to mark +half-past ten. Then I look at my watch itself. It is half-past one. +So now I know! Do I want more proof? Monsieur, I get it. For as I +unlock the door and open it again, there is Mademoiselle Betty face +to face with me! That young girl! Even though already I suspect her +I get a shock, I can tell you. The good God knows that I am hardened +enough against surprises. But for a moment the mask had slipped from +her face. I felt a trickle of ice down my spine. For out of her +beautiful great eyes murder looked." + +He stood held in a spell by the memory of that fierce look. "Ugh," +he grunted; and he shook himself like a great dog coming up out of +the water. + +"But you are talking too much, Monsieur Frobisher," he cried in a +different voice, "and you are keeping Mademoiselle from her bed, +where she should have been an hour ago. Come!" + +He drove his companions out into the hall, turned on the lights, +locked the door of the treasure-room and pocketed the key. + +"Mademoiselle, we will leave these lights burning," he said gently to +Ann, "and Moreau will keep watch in the house. You have nothing to +fear. He will not be far from your door. Good night." + +Ann gave him her hand with a wan smile. + +"I shall thank you to-morrow," she said, and she mounted the stairs +slowly, her feet dragging, her body swaying with her fatigue. + +Hanaud watched her go. Then he turned to Frobisher with a whimsical +smile. + +"What a pity!" he said. "You--she! No? After all, perhaps----" and +he broke off hurriedly. Frobisher was growing red and beginning to +look "proper"; and the last thing which Hanaud wished to do was to +offend him in this particular. + +"I make my apologies," he said. "I am impertinent and a gossip. If +I err, it is because I wish you very well. You understand that? +Good! Then a further proof. To-morrow Mademoiselle will tell us +what happened to her to-night, how she came to go to the house of +Madame Le Vay--everything. I wish you to be present. You shall know +everything. I shall tell you myself step by step, how my conclusions +were reached. All your questions shall be answered. I shall give +you every help, every opportunity. I shall see to it that you are +not even called as a witness of what you have seen to-night. And +when all is over, Monsieur, you will see with me that whatever there +may be of pain and distress, the Law must take its course." + +It was a new Hanaud whom Frobisher was contemplating now. The +tricks, the Gasconnades, the buffooneries had gone. He did not even +triumph. A dignity shone out of the man like a strong light, and +with it he was gentle and considerate. + +"Good night, Monsieur!" he said, and bowed; and Jim on an impulse +thrust out his hand. + +"Good night!" he returned. + +Hanaud took it with a smile of recognition and went away. + +Jim Frobisher locked the front door and with a sense of desolation +turned back to the hall. He heard the big iron gates swing to. They +had been left open, of course, he recognised, in the usual way when +one of the household was going to be late. Yes, everything had been +planned with the care of a commander planning a battle. Here in this +house, the servants were all tucked up in their beds. But for +Hanaud, Betty Harlowe might at this very moment have been stealing up +these stairs noiselessly to her own room, her dreadful work +accomplished. The servants would have waked to-morrow to the +knowledge that Ann Upcott had fled rather than face a trial. +Sometime in the evening, Espinosa would have called, would have been +received in the treasure-room, would have found the spade waiting for +him in the great stone-vaulted kitchen of the Hôtel de Brebizart. +Oh, yes, all dangers had been foreseen--except Hanaud. Nay, even he +in a measure had been foreseen! For a panic-stricken telegram had +reached Frobisher and Haslitt before Hanaud had started upon his work. + +"I shall be on the stairs, Monsieur, below Mademoiselle's door, if +you should want me," said Moreau. + +Jim Frobisher roused himself from his reflections. + +"Thank you," he answered, and he went up the stairs to his room. A +lot of use to Betty that telegram had been, he reflected bitterly! +"Where was she to-night?" he asked, and shut up his mind against the +question. + +He was to know that it was precisely that panic-stricken telegram and +nothing else which had brought Betty Harlowe's plans crashing about +her ears. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: _Ann Upcott's Story_ + +Early the next morning Hanaud rang up the Maison Crenelle and made +his appointment for the afternoon. Jim accordingly spent the morning +with Monsieur Bex, who was quite overwhelmed with the story which was +told to him. + +"Prisoners have their rights nowadays," he said. "They can claim the +presence of their legal adviser when they are being examined by the +Judge. I will go round at once to the Prefecture"; with his head +erect and his little chest puffed out like a bantam cock, he hurried +to do battle for his client. There was no battle to be waged, +however. Certainly Monsieur Bex's unhappy client was for the moment +_au secret_. She would not come before the Judge for a couple of +days. It was the turn of Francine Rollard. Every opportunity was to +be given to the defence, and Monsieur Bex would certainly be granted +an interview with Betty Harlowe, if she so wished, before she was +brought up in the Judge's office. + +Monsieur Bex returned to the Place Etienne Dolet to find Jim +Frobisher restlessly pacing his office. Jim looked up eagerly, but +Monsieur Bex had no words of comfort. + +"I don't like it!" he cried. "It displeases me. I am not happy. +They are all very polite--yes. But they examine the maid first. +That's bad, I tell you," and he tapped upon the table. "That is +Hanaud. He knows his affair. The servants. They can be made to +talk, and this Francine Rollard----" He shook his head. "I shall +get the best advocate in France." + +Jim left him to his work and returned to the Maison Crenelle. It was +obvious that nothing of these new and terrible developments of the +"Affaire Waberski" had yet leaked out. There was not a whisper of it +in the streets, not a loiterer about the gates of the Maison +Crenelle. The "Affaire Waberski" had, in the general view, become a +stale joke. Jim sent up word to Ann Upcott in her room that he was +removing his luggage to the hotel in the Place Darcy, and leaving the +house to her where he prayed her to remain. Even at that moment +Ann's lips twitched a little with humour as she read the embarrassed +note. + +"He is very correct, as Monsieur Bex would say," she reflected, "and +proper enough to make every nerve of Monsieur Hanaud thrill with +delight." + +Jim returned in the afternoon and once more in the shade of the +sycamores whilst the sunlight dappled the lawn and the bees hummed +amongst the roses, Ann Upcott told a story of terror and darkness, +though to a smaller audience. Certain additions were made to the +story by Hanaud. + +"I should never have dreamed of going to Madame Le Vay's Ball," she +began, "except for the anonymous letter," and Hanaud leaned forward +alertly. + +The anonymous letter had arrived whilst she, Betty and Jim Frobisher +were sitting at dinner. It had been posted therefore in the middle +of the day and very soon after Ann had told her first story in the +garden. Ann opened the envelope expecting a bill, and was amazed and +a little terrified to read the signature, "The Scourge." She was +more annoyed than ever when she read the contents, but her terror had +decreased. "The Scourge" bade her attend the Ball. He gave her +explicit instructions that she should leave the ball-room at +half-past ten, follow a particular corridor leading to a wing away +from the reception-rooms, and hide behind the curtains in a small +library. If she kept very still she would overhear in a little while +the truth about the death of Mrs. Harlowe. She was warned to tell no +one of her plan. + +"I told no one then," Ann declared. "I thought the letter just a +malicious joke quite in accord with 'The Scourge's' character. I put +it back into its envelope. But I couldn't forget it. Suppose that +by any chance there was something in it--and I didn't go! Why should +'The Scourge' play a trick on me, who had no money and was of no +importance? And all the while the sort of hope which no amount of +reasoning can crush, kept growing and growing!" + +After dinner Ann took the letter up to her sitting-room and believed +it and scorned herself for believing it, and believed it again. That +afternoon she had almost felt the handcuffs on her wrists. There was +no chance which she ought to refuse of clearing herself from +suspicion, however wild it seemed! + +Ann made up her mind to consult Betty, and ran down to the +treasure-room, which was lit up but empty. It was half-past nine +o'clock. Ann determined to wait for Betty's return, and was once +more perplexed by the low position of the clock upon the marquetry +cabinet. She stood in front of it, staring at it. She took her own +watch in her hand, with a sort of vague idea that it might help her. +And indeed it was very likely to. Had she turned its dial to the +mirror behind the clock, the truth would have leapt at her. But she +had not the time. For a slight movement in the room behind her +arrested her attention. + +She turned abruptly. The room was empty. Yet without doubt it was +from within the room that the faint noise had come. And there was +only one place from which it could have come. Some one was hiding +within the elaborate Sedan chair with its shining grey panels, its +delicate gold beading. Ann was uneasy rather than frightened. Her +first thought was to ring the bell by the fire-place--she could do +that well out of view of the Sedan chair--and carry on until Gaston +answered it. There were treasures enough in the room to repay a +hundred thieves. Then, without arguing at all, she took the bolder +line. She went quietly towards the chair, advancing from the back, +and then with a rush planted herself in front of the glass doors. + +She started back with a cry of surprise. The rail in front of the +doors was down, the doors were open, and leaning back upon the +billowy cushions sat Betty Harlowe. She sat quite still, still as an +image even after Ann had appeared and uttered a cry of surprise; but +she was not asleep. Her great eyes were blazing steadily out of the +darkness of the chair in a way which gave Ann a curious shock. + +"I have been watching you," said Betty very slowly; and if ever there +had been a chance that she would relent, that chance was gone for +ever now. She had come up out of the secret passage to find Ann +playing with her watch in front of the mirror, seeking for an +explanation of the doubt which troubled her and so near to it--so +very near to it! Ann heard her own death sentence pronounced in +those words, "I have been watching you." And though she did not +understand the menace they conveyed, there was something in the slow, +steady utterance of them which a little unnerved her. + +"Betty," she cried, "I want your advice." + +Betty came out of the chair and took the anonymous letter from her +hand. + +"Ought I to go?" Ann Upcott asked. + +"It's your affair," Betty replied. "In your place I should. I +shouldn't hesitate. No one knows yet that there's any suspicion upon +you." + +Ann put forward her objection. To go from this house of mourning +might appear an outrage. + +"You're not a relation," Betty argued. "You can go privately, just +before the time. I have no doubt we can arrange it all. But of +course it's your affair." + +"Why should the Scourge help me?" + +"I don't suppose that he is, except indirectly," Betty reasoned. "I +imagine that he's attacking other people, and using you." She read +through the letter again. "He has always been right, hasn't he? +That's what would determine me in your place. But I don't want to +interfere." + +Ann spun round on her heel. + +"Very well. I shall go." + +"Then I should destroy that letter"; and she made as if to tear it. + +"No!" cried Ann, and she held out her hand for it "I don't know +Madame Le Vay's house very well. I might easily lose my way without +the instructions. I must take it with me." + +Betty agreed and handed the letter back. + +"You want to go quite quietly," she said, and she threw herself heart +and soul into the necessary arrangements. + +She would give Francine Rollard a holiday and herself help Ann to +dress in her fanciful and glistening frock. She wrote a letter to +Michel Le Vay, Madame Le Vay's second son and one of Betty's most +indefatigable courtiers. Fortunately for himself, Michel Le Vay kept +that letter, and it saved him from any charge of complicity in her +plot. For Betty used to him the same argument which had persuaded +Jim Frobisher. She wrote frankly that suspicion had centred upon Ann +Upcott and that it was necessary that she should get away secretly. + +"All the plans have been made, Michel," she wrote. "Ann will come +late. She is to meet the friends who will help her--it is best that +you should know as little as possible about them--in the little +library. If you will keep the corridor clear for a little while, +they can get out by the library doors into the park and be in Paris +the next morning." + +She sealed up this letter without showing it to Ann and said, "I will +send this by a messenger to-morrow morning, with orders to deliver it +into Michel's own hands. Now how are you to go?" + +Over that point the two girls had some discussion. It would be +inviting Hanaud's interference if the big limousine were ordered out. +What more likely than that he should imagine Ann meant to run away +and that Betty was helping her? That plan certainly would not do. + +"I know," Betty cried. "Jeanne Leclerc shall call for you. You will +be ready to slip out. She shall stop her car for a second outside +the gates. It will be quite dark. You'll be away in a flash." + +"Jeanne Leclerc!" Ann exclaimed, drawing back. + +It had always perplexed Ann that Betty, so exquisite and fastidious +in her own looks and bearing, should have found her friends amongst +the flamboyant and the cheap. But she would rather throne it amongst +her inferiors than take her place amongst her equals. Under her +reserved demeanour she was insatiable of recognition. The desire to +be courted, admired, looked up to as a leader and a chief, burned +within her like a raging flame. Jeanne Leclerc was of her company of +satellites--a big, red-haired woman of excessive manners, not without +good looks of a kind, and certainly received in the society of the +town. Ann Upcott not merely disliked, but distrusted her. She had a +feeling that there was something indefinably wrong in her very nature. + +"She will do anything for me, Ann," said Betty. "That's why I named +her. I know that she is going to Madame Le Vay's dance." + +Ann Upcott gave in, and a second letter was written to Jeanne +Leclerc. This second letter asked Jeanne to call at the Maison +Crenelle at an early hour in the morning; and Jeanne Leclerc came and +was closeted with Betty for an hour between nine and ten. Thus all +the arrangements were made. + +It was at this point that Frobisher interrupted Hanaud's explanations. + +"No," he said. "There remain Espinosa and the young brother to be +accounted for." + +"Mademoiselle has just told us that she heard a slight noise in the +treasure-room and found Betty Harlowe seated in the Sedan chair," +Hanaud replied. "Betty Harlowe had just returned from the Hôtel de +Brebizart, whither Espinosa went that night after it had grown dark +and about the time when dinner was over in the Maison Crenelle.... +From the Hôtel de Brebizart Espinosa went to the Rue Gambetta and +waited for Jean Cladel. It was a busy night, that one, my friends. +That old wolf, the Law, was sniffing at the bottom of the door. They +could hear him. They had no time to waste!" + +The next night came. Dinner was very late, Jim remembered. It was +because Betty was helping Ann to dress, Francine having been given +her holiday. Jim and Betty dined alone, and whilst they dined Ann +Upcott stole downstairs, a cloak of white ermine hiding her pretty +dress. She held the front door a little open, and the moment Jeanne +Leclerc's car stopped before the gates, she flashed across the +courtyard. Jeanne had the door of her car open. It had hardly +stopped before it went on again. Jim, as the story was told, +remembered vividly Betty's preoccupation whilst dinner went on, and +the immensity of her relief when the hall door so gently closed and +the car moved forward out of the street of Charles-Robert. Ann +Upcott had gone for good from the Maison Crenelle. She would not +interfere with Betty Harlowe any more. + +Jeanne Leclerc and Ann Upcott reached Madame Le Vay's house a few +minutes after ten. Michel Le Vay came forward to meet them. + +"I am so glad that you came, Mademoiselle," he said to Ann, "but you +are late. Madame my mother has left her place at the door of the +ball-room, but we shall find her later." + +He took them to the cloak-room, and coming away they were joined by +Espinosa. + +"You are going to dance now?" Michel Le Vay asked. "No, not yet! +Then Señor Espinosa will take you to the buffet while I look after +others of our guests." + +He hurried away towards the ball-room, where a clatter of high voices +competed with the music of the band. Espinosa conducted the two +ladies to the buffet. There was hardly anybody in the room. + +"We are still too early," said Jeanne Leclerc in a low voice. "We +shall take some coffee." + +But Ann would not. Her eyes were on the door, her feet danced, her +hands could not keep still. Was the letter a trick? Would she, +indeed, within the next few minutes learn the truth? At one moment +her heart sank into her shoes, at another it soared. + +"Mademoiselle, you neglect your coffee," said Espinosa urgently. +"And it is good." + +"No doubt," Ann replied. She turned to Jeanne Leclerc. "You will +send me home, won't you? I shall not wait--afterwards." + +"But of course," Jeanne Leclerc agreed. "All that is arranged. The +chauffeur has his orders. You will take your coffee, dear?" + +Again Ann would not + +"I want nothing," she declared. "It is time that I went." She +caught a swift and curious interchange of glances between Jeanne +Leclerc and Espinosa, but she was in no mood to seek an +interpretation. There could be no doubt that the coffee set before +her had had some drug slipped into it by Espinosa when he fetched it +from the buffet to the little table at which they sat; a drug which +would have half stupefied her and made her easy to manage. But she +was not to be persuaded, and she rose to her feet. + +"I shall get my cloak," she said, and she fetched it, leaving her two +companions together. She did not return to the buffet. + +On the far side of the big central hall a long corridor stretched +out. At the mouth of the corridor, guarding it, stood Michel Le Vay. +He made a sign to her, and when she joined him: + +"Turn down to the right into the wing," he said in a low voice. "The +small library is in front of you." + +Ann slipped past him. She turned into a wing of the house which was +quite deserted and silent. At the end of it a shut door confronted +her. She opened it softly. It was all dark within. But enough +light entered from the corridor to show her the high bookcases ranged +against the walls, the position of the furniture, and some dark, +heavy curtains at the end. She was the first, then, to come to the +tryst. She closed the door behind her and moved slowly and +cautiously forwards with her hands outstretched, until she felt the +curtains yield. She passed in between them into the recess of a +great bow window opening on to the park; and a sound, a strange, +creaking sound, brought her heart into her mouth. + +Some one was already in the room, then. Somebody had been quietly +watching as she came in from the lighted corridor. The sound grew +louder. Ann peered between the curtains, holding them apart with +shaking hands, and through that chink from behind her a vague +twilight flowed into the room. In the far corner, near to the door, +high up on a tall bookcase, something was clinging--something was +climbing down. Whoever it was, had been hiding behind the ornamental +top of the heavy mahogany book-case; was now using the shelves like +the rungs of a ladder. + +Ann was seized with a panic. A sob broke from her throat. She ran +for the door. But she was too late. A black figure dropped from the +book-case to the ground and, as Ann reached out her hands to the +door, a scarf was whipped about her mouth, stifling her cry. She was +jerked back into the room, but her fingers had touched the light +switch by the door, and as she stumbled and fell, the room was +lighted up. Her assailant fell upon her, driving the breath out of +her lungs, and knotted the scarf tightly at the back of her head. +Ann tried to lift herself, and recognised with a gasp of amazement +that the assailant who pinned her down by the weight of her body and +the thrust of her knees was Francine Rollard. Her panic gave place +to anger and a burning humiliation. She fought with all the strength +of her supple body. But the scarf about her mouth stifled and +weakened her, and with a growing dismay she understood that she was +no match for the hardy peasant girl. She was the taller of the two, +but her height did not avail her; she was like a child matched with a +wildcat. Francine's hands were made of steel. She snatched Ann's +arms behind her back and bound her wrists, as she lay face downwards, +her bosom labouring, her heart racing so that she felt that it must +burst. Then, as Ann gave up the contest, she turned and tied her by +the ankles. + +Francine was upon her feet again in a flash. She ran to the door, +opened it a little way and beckoned. Then she dragged her prisoner +up on to a couch, and Jeanne Leclerc and Espinosa slipped into the +room. + +"It's done?" said Espinosa. + +Francine laughed. + +"Ah, but she fought, the pretty baby! You should have given her the +coffee. Then she would have walked with us. Now she must be +carried. She's wicked, I can tell you." + +Jeanne Leclerc twisted a lace scarf about the girl's face to hide the +gag over her mouth, and, while Francine held her up, set her white +cloak about her shoulders and fastened it in front. Espinosa then +turned out the light and drew back the curtains. + +The room was at the back of the house. In the front of the window +the park stretched away. But it was the park of a French château, +where the cattle feed up to the windows, and only a strip about the +front terrace is devoted to pleasure-gardens and fine lawns. +Espinosa looked out upon meadow-land thickly studded with trees, and +cows dimly moving in the dusk of the summer night like ghosts. He +opened the window, and the throb of the music from the ball-room came +faintly to their ears. + +"We must be quick," said Espinosa. + +He lifted the helpless girl in his arms and passed out into the park. +They left the window open behind them, and between them they carried +their prisoner across the grass, keeping where it was possible in the +gloom of the trees, and aiming for a point in the drive where a +motorcar waited half-way between the house and the gates. A blur of +light from the terrace and ornamental grounds in front of it became +visible away upon their left, but here all was dark. Once or twice +they stopped and set Ann upon her feet, and held her so, while they +rested. + +"A few more yards," Espinosa whispered and, stifling an oath, he +stopped again. They were on the edge of the drive now, and just +ahead of him he saw the glimmer of a white dress and close to it the +glow of a cigarette. Swiftly he put Ann down again and propped her +against a tree. Jeanne Leclerc stood in front of her and, as the +truants from the ball-room approached, she began to talk to Ann, +nodding her head like one engrossed in a lively story. Espinosa's +heart stood still as he heard the man say: + +"Why, there are some others here! That is curious. Shall we see?" + +But even as he moved across the drive, the girl in the white dress +caught him by the arm. + +"That would not be very tactful," she said with a laugh. "Let us do +as we would be done by," and the couple sauntered past. + +Espinosa waited until they had disappeared. "Quick! Let us go!" he +whispered in a shaking voice. + +A few yards farther on they found Espinosa's closed car hidden in a +little alley which led from the main drive. They placed Ann in the +car. Jeanne Leclerc got in beside her, and Espinosa took the wheel. +As they took the road to the Val Terzon a distant clock struck +eleven. Within the car Jeanne Leclerc removed the gag from Ann +Upcott's mouth, drew the sack over her and fastened it underneath her +feet. At the branch road young Espinosa was waiting with his +motor-cycle and side-car. + +"I can add a few words to that story, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud when +she had ended. "First, Michel Le Vay went later into the library, +and bolted the window again, believing you to be well upon your way +to Paris. Second, Espinosa and Jeanne Leclerc were taken as they +returned to Madame Le Vay's ball." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: _What Happened on the Night of the 27th_ + +"We are not yet quite at the end," said Hanaud, as he sat with +Frobisher for awhile upon the lawn after Ann Upcott had gone in. +"But we are near to it. There is still my question to be answered. +'Why was the communicating door open between the bedroom of Madame +Harlowe and the treasure-room on the night when Ann Upcott came down +the stairs in the dark?' When we know that, we shall know why +Francine Rollard and Betty Harlowe between them murdered Madame +Harlowe." + +"Then you believe Francine Rollard had a hand in that crime too?" +asked Jim. + +"I am sure," returned Hanaud. "Do you remember the experiment I +made, the little scene of reconstruction? Betty Harlowe stretched +out upon the bed to represent Madame, and Francine whispering 'That +will do now'?" + +"Yes." + +Hanaud lit a cigarette and smiled. + +"Francine Rollard would not stand at the side of the bed. No! She +would stand at the foot and whisper those simple but appalling words. +But nowhere else. That was significant, my friend. She would not +stand exactly where she had stood when the murder was committed." He +added softly, "I have great hopes of Francine Rollard. A few days of +a prison cell and that untamed little tiger-cat will talk." + +"And what of Waberski in all this?" Jim exclaimed. + +Hanaud laughed and rose from his chair. + +"Waberski? He is for nothing in all this. He brought a charge in +which he didn't believe, and the charge happened to be true. That is +all." He took a step or two away and returned. "But I am wrong. +That is not all. Waberski is indeed for something in all this. For +when he was pressed to make good his charge and must rake up some +excuse for it somehow, by a piece of luck he thinks of a morning when +he saw Betty Harlowe in the street of Gambetta near to the shop of +Jean Cladel. And so he leads us to the truth. Yes, we owe something +to that animal Boris Waberski. Did I not tell you, Monsieur, that we +are all the servants of Chance?" + +Hanaud went from the garden and for three days Jim Frobisher saw him +no more. But the development which Monsieur Bex feared and for which +Hanaud hoped took place, and on the third day Hanaud invited Jim to +his office in the Prefecture. + +He had Jim's memorandum in his hand. + +"Do you remember what you wrote?" he asked. "See!" He pushed the +memorandum in front of Jim and pointed to a paragraph. + + +"But in the absence of any trace of poison in the dead woman's body, +it is difficult to see how the criminal can be brought to justice +except by: + +"(_a_) A confession. + +"(_b_) The commission of another crime of a similar kind. + +"Hanaud's theory--once a poisoner, always a poisoner." + + +Frobisher read it through. + +"Now that is very true," said Hanaud. "Never have I come across a +case more difficult. At every step we break down. I think I have my +fingers on Jean Cladel. I am five minutes too late. I think that I +shall get some useful evidence from a firm in Paris. The firm has +ceased to be for the last ten years. All the time I strike at air. +So I must take a risk--yes, and a serious one. Shall I tell you what +that risk was? I have to assume that Mademoiselle Ann will be +brought alive to the Hôtel de Brebizart on that night of Madame Le +Vay's ball. That she would be brought back I had no doubt. For one +thing, there could be no safer resting-place for her than under the +stone flags of the kitchen there. For another, there was the +portmanteau in the side-car. It was not light, the portmanteau. +Some friends of mine watched it being put into the side-car before +young Espinosa started for his rendezvous. I have no doubt it +weighed just as many kilos as Mademoiselle Ann." + +"I never understood the reason of that portmanteau," Frobisher +interrupted. + +"It was a matter of timing. There were twenty-five kilometres of a +bad track, with many sharp little twists between the Val Terzon and +the Hôtel de Brebizart. And a motor-cycle with an empty side-car +would take appreciably longer to cover the distance than a cycle with +a side-car weighted, which could take the corners at its top speed. +They were anxious to get the exact time the journey would take with +Ann Upcott in the side-car, so that there might be no needless +hanging about waiting for its arrival. But they were a little too +careful. Our friend Boris said a shrewd thing, didn't he? Some +crimes are discovered because the alibis are too unnaturally perfect. +Oh, there was no doubt they meant to bring back Mademoiselle Ann! +But suppose they brought her back dead! It wasn't likely--no! It +would be so much easier to finish her off with a dose of the +arrow-poison. No struggle, no blood, no trouble at all. I reckoned +that they would dope her at Madame Le Vay's ball and bring her back +half conscious, as indeed they meant to do. But I shivered all that +evening at the risk I had taken, and when that cycle shut off its +engine, as we stood in the darkness of the gallery, I was in despair." + +He shook his shoulders uncomfortably as though the danger was not yet +passed. + +"Anyway, I took the risk," he resumed, "and so we got fulfilled your +condition (_b_). The commission or, in this case, the attempted +commission of another crime of the same kind." + +Frobisher nodded. + +"But now," said Hanaud, leaning forward, "we have got your condition +(_a_) fulfilled--a confession; a clear and complete confession from +Francine Rollard, and so many admissions from the Espinosas, and +Jeanne Leclerc and Maurice Thevenet, that they amount to confessions. +We have put them all together, and here is the new part of the case +with which Monsieur Bex and you will have to deal--the charge not of +murder attempted but of murder committed--the murder of Madame +Harlowe." + +Jim Frobisher was upon the point of interrupting, but he thought +better of it. + +"Go on!" he contented himself with saying. + +"Why Betty Harlowe took to writing anonymous letters, Monsieur--who +shall say? The dulness of life for a girl young and beautiful and +passionate in a provincial town, as our friend Boris suggests? The +craving for excitement? Something bad and vicious and abnormal born +in her, part of her, and craving more and more expression as she grew +in years? The exacting attendance upon Madame? Probably all of +these elements combined to suggest the notion to her. And suddenly +it became easy for her. She discovered a bill in that box in Madame +Harlowe's bedroom, a receipted bill ten years old from the firm of +Chapperon, builders, of the Rue de Batignolles in Paris. You, by the +way, saw an unburnt fragment of the bill in the ashes upon the hearth +of the treasure-room. This bill disclosed to her the existence of +the hidden passage between the treasure-room and the Hôtel de +Brebizart. For it was the bill of the builders who had repaired it +at the order of Simon Harlowe. An old typewriting machine belonging +to Simon Harlowe and the absolute privacy of the Hôtel de Brebizart +made the game easy and safe. But as the opportunity grew, so did the +desire. Betty Harlowe tasted power. She took one or two people into +her confidence--her maid Francine, Maurice Thevenet, Jeanne Leclerc, +and Jean Cladel, a very useful personage--and once started the circle +grew; blackmail followed. Blackmail of Betty Harlowe, you +understand! She, the little queen, became the big slave. She must +provide Thevenet with his mistress, Espinosa with his car and his +house, Jeanne Leclerc with her luxuries. So the anonymous letters +become themselves blackmailing letters. Maurice Thevenet knows the +police side of Dijon and the province. Jeanne Leclerc has a--friend, +shall we say?--in the Director of an Insurance Company, and, believe +me, for a blackmailer nothing is more important than to know +accurately the financial resources of one's--let us say, clients. +Thus the game went merrily on until money was wanted and it couldn't +be raised. Betty Harlowe looked around Dijon. There was no one for +the moment to exploit. Yes, one person! Let us do Betty Harlowe the +justice to believe that the suggestion came from that promising young +novice, Maurice Thevenet! Who was that person, Monsieur Frobisher?" + +Even now Jim Frobisher was unable to guess the truth, led up to it +though he had been by Hanaud's exposition. + +"Why, Madame Harlowe herself," Hanaud explained, and, as Jim +Frobisher started back in a horror of disbelief, he continued: "Yes, +it is so! Madame Harlowe received a letter at dinner-time, just as +Ann Upcott did, on the night of Monsieur de Pouillac's ball. She +took her dinner in bed, you may remember, that night. That letter +was shown to Jeanne Baudin the nurse, who remembers it very well. It +demanded a large sum of money, and something was said about a number +of passionate letters which Madame Harlowe might not care to have +published--not too much, you understand, but enough to make it clear +that the liaison of Madame Raviart and Simon Harlowe was not a secret +from the Scourge. I'll tell you something else which will astonish +you, Monsieur Frobisher. That letter was shown not only to Jeanne +Baudin, but to Betty Harlowe herself when she came to say good night +and show herself in her new dance frock of silver tissue and her +silver slippers. It was no wonder that Betty Harlowe lost her head a +little when I set my little trap for her in the library and pretended +that I did not want to read what Madame had said to Jeanne Baudin +after Betty Harlowe had gone off to her ball. I hadn't one idea what +a very unpleasant little trap it was!" + +"But wait a moment!" Frobisher interrupted. "If Madame Harlowe +showed this letter first of all to Jeanne Baudin, and afterwards to +Betty Harlowe in Jeanne Baudin's presence, why didn't Jeanne Baudin +speak of it at once to the examining magistrate when Waberski brought +his accusation? She kept silent! Yes, she kept silent!" + +"Why shouldn't she?" returned Hanaud. "Jeanne Baudin is a good and +decent girl. For her, Madame Harlowe had died a natural death in her +sleep, the very form in which death might be expected to come for +her. Jeanne Baudin didn't believe a word of Waberski's accusation. +Why should she rake up old scandals? She herself proposed to Betty +Harlowe to say nothing about the anonymous letter." + +Jim Frobisher thought over the argument and accepted it. "Yes, I see +her point of view," he admitted, and Hanaud continued his narrative. + +"Well, then, Betty Harlowe is off to her ball on the Boulevard +Thiers. Ann Upcott is in her sitting-room. Jeanne Baudin has +finished her offices for the night. Madame Harlowe is alone. What +does she do? Drink? For that night--no! She sits and thinks. Were +there any of the letters which passed between her and Simon Harlowe, +before she was Simon Harlowe's wife, still existing? She had thought +to have destroyed them all. But she was a woman, she might have +clutched some back. If there were any, where would they be? Why in +that house at the end of the secret passage. Some such thoughts must +have passed through her mind. For she rose from her bed, slipped on +her dressing-gown and shoes, unlocked the communicating door between +her and the treasure-room and passed by the secret way into the empty +Hôtel de Brebizart. And what does she find there, Monsieur? A room +in daily use, a bundle of her letters ready in the top drawer of her +Empire writing-table, and on the writing-table Simon's Corona +machine, and the paper and envelopes of the anonymous letters. +Monsieur, there is only one person who can have access to that room, +the girl whom she has befriended, whom in her exacting way she no +doubt loved. And at eleven o'clock that night Francine Rollard is +startled by the entrance of Madame Harlowe into her bedroom. For a +moment Francine fancied that Madame had been drinking. She was very +quickly better informed. She was told to get up, to watch for Betty +Harlowe's return and to bring her immediately to Madame Harlowe's +bedroom. At one o'clock Francine Rollard is waiting in the dark +hall. As Betty comes in from her party, Francine Rollard gives her +the message. Neither of these two girls know as yet how much of +their villainies has been discovered. But something at all events. +Betty Harlowe bade Francine wait and ran upstairs silently to her +room. Betty Harlowe was prepared against discovery. She had been +playing with fire, and she didn't mean to be burnt. She had the +arrow-poison ready--yes, ready for herself. She filled her +hypodermic needle, and with that concealed in the palm of her glove +she went to confront her benefactress. + +"You can imagine that scene, the outraged woman whose romance and +tragedy were to be exploited blurting out her fury in front of +Francine Rollard. It wasn't Waberski who was to be stripped to the +skin--no, but the girl in the pretty silver frock and the silver +slippers. You can imagine the girl, too, her purpose changing under +the torrent of abuse. Why should she use the arrow-poison to destroy +herself when she can save everything--fortune, liberty, position--by +murder? Only she must be quick. Madame's voice is rising in gusts +of violence. Even in that house of the old thick walls, Jeanne +Baudin, some one, might be wakened by the clamour. And in a moment +the brutal thing is done. Madame Harlowe is flung back upon her bed. +Her mouth is covered and held by Francine Rollard. The needle does +its work. 'That will do now,' whispers Betty Harlowe. But at the +door of the treasure-room in the darkness Ann Upcott is standing, +unable to identify the voice which whispered, just as you and I were +unable, Monsieur, to identify a voice which whispered to us from the +window of Jean Cladel's house, but taking deep into her memory the +terrible words. And neither of the murderesses knew it. + +"They go calmly about their search for the letters. They cannot find +them, because Madame had pushed them into the coffer of old bills and +papers. They rearrange the bed, they compose their victim in it as +if she were asleep, they pass into the treasure-room, and they forget +to lock the door behind them. Very likely they visit the Hôtel de +Brebizart. Betty Harlowe has the rest of the arrow-poison and the +needle to put in some safe place, and where else is safe? In the end +when every care has been taken that not a scrap of incriminating +evidence is left to shout 'Murder' the next morning, Betty creeps up +the stairs to make sure that Ann Upcott is asleep; and Ann Upcott +waking, stretches up her hands and touches her face. + +"That, Monsieur," and Hanaud rose to his feet, "is what you would +call the case for the Crown. It is the case which you and Monsieur +Bex have to meet." + +Jim Frobisher made up his mind to say the things which he had almost +said at the beginning of this interview. + +"I shall tell Monsieur Bex exactly what you have told me. I shall +give him every assistance that I personally or my firm can give. But +I have no longer any formal connection with the defence." + +Hanaud looked at Frobisher in perplexity. + +"I don't understand, Monsieur. This is not the moment to renounce a +client." + +"Nor do I," rejoined Frobisher. "It is the other way about. +Monsieur Bex put it to me very--how shall I say?" + +Hanaud supplied the missing word with a twitch of his lips. + +"Very correctly." + +"He told me that Mademoiselle did not wish to see me again." + +Hanaud walked over to the window. The humiliation evident in +Frobisher's voice and face moved him. He said very gently, "I can +understand that, can't you? She has fought for a great stake all +this last week, her liberty, her fortune, her good name--and you. +Oh, yes," he continued, as Jim stirred at the table. "Let us be +frank! And you, Monsieur! You were a little different from her +friends. From the earliest moment she set her passions upon you. Do +you remember the first morning I came to the Maison Crenelle? You +promised Ann Upcott to put up there though you had just refused the +same invitation from Betty Harlowe. Such a fury of jealousy blazed +in her eyes, that I had to drop my stick with a clatter in the hall +lest she should recognise that I could not but have discovered her +secret. Well, having fought for this stake and lost, she would not +wish to see you. You had seen her, too, in her handcuffs and tied by +the legs like a sheep. I understand her very well." + +Jim Frobisher remembered that from the moment Hanaud burst into the +room at the Hôtel de Brebizart, Betty had never once even looked at +him. He got up from his chair and took up his hat and stick. + +"I must go back to my partner in London with this story as soon as I +have told it to Monsieur Bex," he said. "I should like it complete. +When did you first suspect Betty Harlowe?" + +Hanaud nodded. + +"That, too, I shall tell you. Oh, don't thank me! I am not so sure +that I should be so ready with all these confidences, if I was not +certain what the verdict in the Assize Court must be. I shall gather +up for you the threads which are still loose, but not here." + +He looked at his watch. + +"See, it is past noon! We shall once more have Philippe Le Bon's +Terrace Tower to ourselves. It may be, too, that we shall see Mont +Blanc across all the leagues of France. Come! Let us take your +memorandum and go there." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: _The Façade of Notre Dame_ + +For a second time they were fortunate. It was a day without mist or +clouds, and the towering silver ridge hung in the blue sky distinct +and magical. Hanaud lit one of his black cigarettes and reluctantly +turned away from it. + +"There were two great mistakes made," he said. "One at the very +beginning by Betty Harlowe. One at the very end by me, and of the +two mine was the least excusable. Let us begin, therefore, at the +beginning. Madame Harlowe has died a natural death. She is buried; +Betty Harlowe inherits the Harlowe fortune. Boris Waberski asks her +for money and she snaps her the fingers. Why should she not? Ah, +but she must have been very sorry a week later that she snapped her +the fingers! For suddenly he flings his bomb. Madame Harlowe was +poisoned by her niece Betty. Imagine Betty Harlowe's feelings when +she heard of that! The charge is preposterous. No doubt! But it is +also true. A minute back she is safe. Nothing can touch her. Now +suddenly her head is loose upon her neck. She is frightened. She is +questioned in the examining magistrate's room. The magistrate has +nothing against her. All will be well if she does not make a slip. +But there is a good chance she may make a slip. For she has done the +murder. Her danger is not any evidence which Waberski can bring, but +just herself. In two days she is still more frightened, for she +hears that Hanaud is called in from Paris. So she makes her mistake. +She sends a telegram to you in London." + +"Why was that a mistake?" Frobisher asked quickly. + +"Because I begin to ask myself at once: 'How does Betty Harlowe know +that Hanaud has been called in?' Oh, to be sure, I made a great +fluster in my office about the treachery of my colleagues in Dijon. +But I did not believe a word of that. No! I am at once curious +about Betty Harlowe. That is all. Still, I am curious. Well, we +come to Dijon and you tell her that you have shown me that telegram." + +"Yes," Jim admitted. "I did. I remember, too," he added slowly, +"that she put out her hand on the window sill--yes, as if to steady +herself." + +"But she was quick to recover," returned Hanaud with a nod of +appreciation. "She must account for that telegram. She cannot tell +me that Maurice Thevenet sent a hurried word to her. No! So when I +ask her if she has ever received one of these anonymous +letters--which, remember, were my real business in Dijon--she says at +once 'Yes, I received one on the Sunday morning which told me that +Monsieur Hanaud was coming from Paris to make an end of me.' That +was quick, eh? Yes, but I know it is a lie. For it was not until +the Sunday evening that any question of my being sent for arose at +all. You see Mademoiselle Betty was in a corner. I had asked her +for the letter. She does not say that she has destroyed it, lest I +should at once believe that she never received any such letter at +all. On the contrary she says that it is in the treasure-room which +is sealed up, knowing quite well that she can write it and place it +there by way of the Hôtel de Brebizart before the seals are removed. +But for the letter to be in the treasure-room she must have received +it on the Sunday morning, since it was on the Sunday morning that the +seals were affixed. She did not know when it was first proposed to +call me in. She draws a bow at a venture, and I know that she is +lying; and I am more curious than ever about Betty Harlowe." + +He stopped. For Jim Frobisher was staring at him with a look of +horror in his eyes. + +"It was I then who put you on her track?--I who came out to defend +her!" he cried. "For it was I who showed you the telegram." + +"Monsieur Frobisher, that would not have mattered if Betty Harlowe +had been, as you believed her, innocent," Hanaud replied gravely; and +Frobisher was silent. + +"Well, then, after my first interview with Betty Harlowe, I went over +the house whilst you and Betty talked together in the library!" + +"Yes," said Jim. + +"And in Mademoiselle Ann's sitting-room I found something which +interested me at the first glance. Now tell me what it was!" and he +cocked his head at Jim with the hope that his riddle would divert him +from his self-reproaches. And in that to some extent he succeeded. + +"That I can guess," Frobisher answered with the ghost of a smile. +"It was the treatise on Sporanthus." + +"Yes! The arrow-poison! The poison which leaves no trace! +Monsieur, that poison has been my nightmare. Who would be the first +poisoner to use it? How should I cope with him and prove that it +brought no more security than arsenic or prussic-acid? These are +questions which have terrified me. And suddenly, unexpectedly, in a +house where a death from heart failure has just occurred, I find a +dry-as-dust treatise upon the poison tucked away under a pile of +magazines in a young lady's sitting-room. I tell you I was +staggered. What was it doing there? How did it come there? I see a +note upon the cover, indicating a page. I turn to the page and +there, staring at me, is an account of Simon Harlowe's perfect +specimen of a poison-arrow. The anonymous letters? They are at once +forgotten. What if that animal Waberski, without knowing it, were +right, and Madame Harlowe was murdered in the Maison Crenelle? I +must find that out. I tuck the treatise up my back beneath my +waistcoat and I go downstairs again, asking myself some questions. +Is Mademoiselle Ann interested in such matters as Sporanthus +Hispidus? Or had she anything to hope for from Madame Harlowe's +death? Or did she perhaps not know at all that the treatise was +under that pile of magazines upon the table at the side? I do not +know, and my head is rather in a whirl. Then I catch that wicked +look of Betty Harlowe at her friend--Monsieur, a revealing look! I +have not the demure and simple young lady of convention to deal with +at all. No. I go away from the Maison Crenelle, still more curious +about Betty Harlowe." + +Jim Frobisher sat quickly down at Hanaud's side. + +"Are you sure of that?" he asked suspiciously. + +"Quite," Hanaud replied in wonder. + +"You have forgotten, haven't you, that immediately after you left the +Maison Crenelle that day you had the _sergent-de-ville_ removed from +its gates?" + +"No, I don't forget that at all," Hanaud answered imperturbably. +"The _sergent-de-ville_ in his white trousers was an absurdity--worse +than that, an actual hindrance. There is little use in watching +people who know that they are being watched. So I remove the +_sergent-de-ville_ and now I can begin really to watch those young +ladies of the Maison Crenelle. And that afternoon, whilst Monsieur +Frobisher is removing his luggage from his hotel, Betty Harlowe goes +out for a walk, is discreetly followed by Nicolas Moreau--and +vanishes. I don't blame Nicolas. He must not press too close upon +her heels. She was in that place of small lanes about the Hôtel de +Brebizart. No doubt it was through the little postern in the wall +which we ourselves used a few days afterwards that she vanished. +There was the anonymous letter to be written, ready for me to receive +when the seals of the treasure-room were broken. But I don't know +that yet. No! All that I know is that Betty Harlowe goes out for a +walk and is lost, and after an hour reappears in another street. +Meanwhile I pass my afternoon examining so far as I can how these +young ladies pass their lives and who are their friends. An +examination not very productive, and not altogether futile. For I +find some curious friends in Betty Harlowe's circle. Now, observe +this, Monsieur! Young girls with advanced ideas, social, political, +literary, what you will--in their case curious friends mean nothing! +They are to be expected. But with a young girl who is to all +appearance leading the normal life of her class, the case is +different. In her case curious friends are--curious. The Espinosas, +Maurice Thevenet, Jeanne Leclerc--flashy cheap people of that +type--how shall we account for them as friends of that delicate piece +of china, Betty Harlowe?" + +Jim Frobisher nodded his head. He, too, had been a trifle +disconcerted by the familiarity between Espinosa and Betty Harlowe. + +"The evening," Hanaud continued, "which you spent so pleasantly in +the cool of the garden with the young ladies, I spent with the +Edinburgh Professor. And I prepared a little trap. Yes, and the +next morning I came early to the Maison Crenelle and I set my little +trap. I replace the book about the arrows on the bookshelf in its +obvious place." + +Hanaud paused in his explanation to take another black cigarette from +his eternal blue bundle, and to offer one to Jim. + +"Then comes our interview with the animal Waberski; and he tells me +that queer story about Betty Harlowe in the street of Gambetta close +to the shop of Jean Cladel. He may be lying. He may be speaking the +truth and what he saw might be an accident. Yes! But also it fits +in with this theory of Madame Harlowe's murder which is now taking +hold of me. For if that poison was used, then some one who +understood the composition of drugs must have made the solution from +the paste upon the arrow. I am more curious than ever about Betty +Harlowe! And the moment that animal has left me, I spring my trap; +and I have a success beyond all my expectations. I point to the +treatise of the Edinburgh Professor. It was not in its place +yesterday. It is to-day. Who then replaced it? I ask that question +and Mademoiselle Ann is utterly at sea. She knows nothing about that +book. That is evident as Mont Blanc over there in the sky. On the +other hand Betty Harlowe knows at once who has replaced that book; +and in a most unwise moment of sarcasm, she allows me to see that she +knows. She knows that I found it yesterday, that I have studied it +since and replaced it. And she is not surprised. No, for she knows +where I found it. I am at once like Waberski. I know it in my heart +that she put it under those magazines in Ann Upcott's room, although +I do not yet know it in my head. Betty Harlowe had prepared to +divert suspicion from herself upon Ann Upcott, should suspicion +arise. But innocent people do not do that, Monsieur. + +"Then we go into the garden and Mademoiselle Ann tells us her story. +Monsieur Frobisher, I said to you immediately afterwards that all +great criminals who are women are great actresses. But never in my +life have I seen one who acted so superbly as Betty Harlowe while +that story was being unfolded. Imagine it! A cruel murder has been +secretly committed and suddenly the murderess has to listen to a true +account of that murder in the presence of the detective who is there +to fix the guilt! There was some one at hand all the time--almost an +eye-witness--perhaps an actual eye-witness. For she cannot know that +she is safe until the last word of the story is told. Picture to +yourself Betty Harlowe's feelings during that hour in the pleasant +garden, if you can! The questions which must have been racing +through her mind! Did Ann Upcott in the end creep forward and peer +through the lighted doorway? Does she know the truth--and has she +kept it hidden until this moment when Hanaud and Frobisher are +present and she can speak it safely? Will her next words be 'And +here at my side sits the murderess'? Those must have been terrible +moments for Betty Harlowe!" + +"Yet she gave no sign of any distress," Frobisher added. + +"But she took a precaution," Hanaud remarked. "She ran suddenly and +very swiftly into the house." + +"Yes. You seemed to me on the point of stopping her." + +"And I was," continued Hanaud. "But I let her go and she +returned----" + +"With the photographs of Mrs. Harlowe," Frobisher interrupted. + +"Oh, with more than those photographs," Hanaud exclaimed. "She +turned her chair towards Mademoiselle Ann. She sat with her +handkerchief in her hand and her face against her handkerchief, +listening--the tender, sympathetic friend. But when Mademoiselle Ann +told us that the hour of the murder was half-past ten, a weakness +overtook her--could not but overtake her. And in that moment of +weakness she dropped her handkerchief. Oh, she picked it up again at +once. Yes, but where the handkerchief had fallen her foot now +rested, and when the story was all ended, and we got up from our +chairs, she spun round upon her heel with a certain violence so that +there was left a hole in that well-watered turf. I was anxious to +discover what it was that she had brought out from the house in her +handkerchief, and had dropped with her handkerchief and had driven +with all the weight of her body into the turf so that no one might +see it. In fact I left my gloves behind in order that I might come +back and discover it. But she was too quick for me. She fetched my +gloves herself, much to my shame that I, Hanaud, should be waited on +by so exquisite a young lady. However, I found it afterwards when +you and Girardot and the others were all waiting for me in the +library. It was that tablet of cyanide of potassium which I showed +to you in the Prefecture. She did not know how much Ann Upcott was +going to reveal. The arrow-poison had been hidden away in the Hôtel +de Brebizart. But she had something else at hand--more rapid--death +like a thunderbolt. So she ran into the house for it. I tell you, +Monsieur, it wanted nerve to sit there with that tablet close to her +mouth. She grew very pale. I do not wonder. What I do wonder is +that she did not topple straight off her chair in a dead faint before +us all. But no! She sat ready to swallow that tablet at once if +there were need, before my hand could stop her. Once more I say to +you, people who are innocent do not do that." + +Jim had no argument wherewith to answer. + +"Yes," he was forced to admit. "She could have got the tablets no +doubt from Jean Cladel." + +"Very well, then," Hanaud resumed. "We have separated for luncheon +and in the afternoon the seals are to be removed. Before that takes +place, certain things must be done. The clock must be moved from the +mantelshelf in the treasure-room on to the marquetry cabinet. Some +letters too must be burnt." + +"Yes. Why?" Frobisher asked eagerly. + +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. + +"The letters were burned. It is difficult to say. For my part I +think those old letters between Simon Harlowe and Madame Raviart +alluded too often to the secret passage. But here I am guessing. +What I learnt for certain during that luncheon hour is that there is +a secret passage and that it runs from the treasure-room to the Hôtel +de Brebizart. For this time Nicolas Moreau makes no mistake. He +follows her to the Hôtel de Brebizart and I from this tower see the +smoke rising from the chimney. Look, Monsieur, there it is! But no +smoke rises from it to-day." + +He rose to his feet and turned his back upon Mont Blanc. The trees +in the garden, the steep yellow-patterned roof, and the chimneys of +the Maison Crenelle stood out above the lesser buildings which +surrounded them. Only from one of the chimneys did the smoke rise +to-day, and that one at the extreme end of the building where the +kitchens were. + +"We are back then in the afternoon. The seals are removed. We are +in Madame Harlowe's bedroom and something I cannot explain occurs." + +"The disappearance of the necklace," Frobisher exclaimed confidently; +and Hanaud grinned joyfully. + +"See, I set a trap for you and at once you are caught!" he cried. +"The necklace? Oh, no, no! I am prepared for that. The guilt is +being transferred to Mademoiselle Ann. Good! But it is not enough +to hide the book about the arrow in her room. No, we must provide +her also with a motive. Mademoiselle is poor; Mademoiselle inherits +nothing. Therefore the necklace worth a hundred thousand pounds +vanishes, and you must draw from its vanishing what conclusion you +will. No, the little matter I cannot explain is different. Betty +Harlowe and our good Girardot pay a visit to Jeanne Baudin's bedroom +to make sure that a cry from Madame's room could not be heard there." + +"Yes." + +"Our good Girardot comes back." + +"Yes." + +"But he comes alone. That is the little thing I cannot explain. +Where is Betty Harlowe? I ask for her before I go into the +treasure-room, and lo! very modestly and quietly she has slipped in +amongst us again. I am very curious about that, my friend, and I +keep my eyes open for an explanation, I assure you." + +"I remember," said Frobisher. "You stopped with your hand upon the +door and asked for Mademoiselle Harlowe. I wondered why you stopped. +I attached no importance to her absence." + +Hanaud flourished his hand. He was happy. He was in the artist's +mood. The work was over, the long strain and pain of it. Now let +those outside admire! + +"Of all that the treasure-room had to tell us, you know, Monsieur +Frobisher. But I answer a question in your memorandum. The instant +I am in the room, I look for the mouth of that secret passage from +the Hôtel de Brebizart. At once I see. There is only one place. +The elegant Sedan chair framed so prettily in a recess of the wall. +So I am very careful not to pry amongst its cushions for the poison +arrow; just as I am very careful not to ask for the envelope with the +post mark in which the anonymous letter was sent. If Betty Harlowe +thinks that she has overreached the old fox Hanaud--good! Let her +think so. So we go upstairs and I find the explanation of that +little matter of Betty Harlowe's absence which has been so troubling +me." + +Jim Frobisher stared at him. + +"No," he said. "I haven't got that. We went into Ann Upcott's +sitting-room. I write my memorandum with the shaft of the poison +arrow and you notice it Yes! But the matter of Betty Harlowe's +absence! No, I haven't got that." + +"But you have," cried Hanaud. "That pen! It was not there in the +pen-tray on the day before, when I found the book. There was just +one pen--the foolish thing young ladies use, a great goose-quill dyed +red--and nothing else. The arrow shaft had been placed there since. +When? Why, just now. It is clear, that. Where was that shaft of +the poison-arrow before? In one of two places. Either in the +treasure-room or in the Hôtel de Brebizart. Betty Harlowe has +fetched it away during that hour of freedom; she carries it in her +dress; she seizes her moment when we are all in Madame Harlowe's +bedroom and--pau, pau!--there it is in the pen-tray of Mademoiselle +Ann, to make suspicion still more convincing! Monsieur, I walk away +with Monsieur Bex, who has some admirable scheme that I should search +the gutters for a match-box full of pearls. I agree--oh yes, that is +the only way. Monsieur Bex has found it! On the other hand I get +some useful information about the Maison Crenelle and the Hôtel de +Brebizart. I carry that information to a very erudite gentleman in +the Palace of the Departmental Archives, and the next morning I know +all about the severe Etienne de Crenelle and the joyous Madame de +Brebizart. So when you and Betty Harlowe are rehearsing in the Val +Terzon, Nicolas Moreau and I are very busy in the Hôtel de +Brebizart--with the results which now are clear to you, and one of +which I have not told you. For the pearl necklace was in the drawer +of the writing-table." + +Jim Frobisher took a turn across the terrace. Yes, the story was +clear to him now--a story of dark passions and vanity, and greed of +power with cruelties for its methods. Was there no spark of hope and +cheer in all this desolation? He turned abruptly upon Hanaud. He +wished to know the last hidden detail. + +"You said that you had made the inexcusable mistake. What was it?" + +"I bade you read my estimate of Ann Upcott on the façade of the +Church of Notre Dame." + +"And I did," cried Jim Frobisher. He was still looking towards the +Maison Crenelle, and his arm swept to the left of the house. His +fingers pointed at the Renaissance church with its cupolas and its +loggia, to which Betty Harlowe had driven him. + +"There it is and under its porch is that terrible relief of the Last +Judgment." + +"Yes," said Hanaud quietly. "But that is the Church of St. Michel, +Monsieur." + +He turned Frobisher about. Between him and Mont Blanc, close at his +feet, rose the slender apse of a Gothic church, delicate in its +structure like a jewel. + +"That is the Church of Notre Dame. Let us go down and look at the +façade." + +Hanaud led Frobisher to the wonderful church and pointed to the +frieze. There Frobisher saw such images of devils half beast, half +human, such grinning hog-men, such tortured creatures with heads +twisted round so that they looked backwards, such old and drunken and +vicious horrors as imagination could hardly conceive; and amongst +them one girl praying, her sweet face tormented, her hands tightly +clasped, an image of terror and faith, a prisoner amongst all these +monsters imploring the passers-by for their pity and their help. + +"That, Monsieur Frobisher, is what I sent you out to see," said +Hanaud gravely. "But you did not see it." + +His face changed as he spoke. It shone with kindness. He lifted his +hat. + +Jim Frobisher, with his eyes fixed in wonder upon that frieze, heard +Ann Upcott's voice behind him. + +"And how do you interpret that strange work, Monsieur Hanaud?" She +stopped beside the two men. + +"That, Mademoiselle, I shall leave Monsieur Frobisher to explain to +you." + +Both Ann Upcott and Jim Frobisher turned hurriedly towards Hanaud. +But already he was gone. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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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.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +td.tdleft { vertical-align: top; + font-size: 85%; + padding: 2%; + padding-bottom: 0% + } + +td.tdright { vertical-align: top; + font-size: 85%; + padding: 2%; + padding-bottom: 0% + } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The House of the Arrow, by A. E. W. Mason</p> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> + +<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The House of the Arrow</p> +<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: A. E. W. Mason</p> +<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 26, 2022 [eBook #67514]<br /> +[Last Updated: March 13, 2022]<br> +[Last updated: October 19, 2022]</p> +<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> + <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW ***</div> + +<h1> +<br /><br /> + <i>The<br /> + House of the Arrow</i><br /> +</h1> + +<p class="t3b"> + <i>By</i><br /> +</p> + +<p class="t2"> + A. E. W. MASON<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>New York<br /> + George H. Doran Company</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t4"> + COPYRIGHT, 1924,<br /> + BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t4"> + THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t4"> + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Books by A. E. W. MASON<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + THE WINDING STAIR<br /> + THE FOUR FEATHERS<br /> + THE SUMMONS<br /> + THE BROKEN ROAD<br /> + MIRANDA OF THE BALCONY<br /> + CLEMENTINA<br /> + THE TURNSTILE<br /> + THE TRUANTS<br /> + AT THE VILLA ROSE<br /> + RUNNING WATER<br /> + THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER<br /> + THE PHILANDERERS<br /> + LAWRENCE CLAVERING<br /> + THE WATCHERS<br /> + A ROMANCE OF WASTDALE<br /> + ENSIGN KNIGHTLEY AND OTHER TALES<br /> + FROM THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE WORLD<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> + CONTENTS<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + CHAPTER<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + ONE: <a href="#chap01"><i>Letters of Mark</i></a><br /> + TWO: <a href="#chap02"><i>A Cry for Help</i></a><br /> + THREE: <a href="#chap03"><i>Servants of Chance</i></a><br /> + FOUR: <a href="#chap04"><i>Betty Harlowe</i></a><br /> + FIVE: <a href="#chap05"><i>Betty Harlowe Answers</i></a><br /> + SIX: <a href="#chap06"><i>Jim Changes His Lodging</i></a><br /> + SEVEN: <a href="#chap07"><i>Exit Waberski</i></a><br /> + EIGHT: <a href="#chap08"><i>The Book</i></a><br /> + NINE: <a href="#chap09"><i>The Secret</i></a><br /> + TEN: <a href="#chap10"><i>The Clock upon the Cabinet</i></a><br /> + ELEVEN: <a href="#chap11"><i>A New Suspect</i></a><br /> + TWELVE: <a href="#chap12"><i>The Breaking of the Seals</i></a><br /> + THIRTEEN: <a href="#chap13"><i>Simon Harlowe's Treasure-room</i></a><br /> + FOURTEEN: <a href="#chap14"><i>An Experiment and a Discovery</i></a><br /> + FIFTEEN: <a href="#chap15"><i>The Finding of the Arrow</i></a><br /> + SIXTEEN: <a href="#chap16"><i>Hanaud Laughs</i></a><br /> + SEVENTEEN: <a href="#chap17"><i>At Jean Cladel's</i></a><br /> + EIGHTEEN: <a href="#chap18"><i>The White Tablet</i></a><br /> + NINETEEN: <a href="#chap19"><i>A Plan Frustrated</i></a><br /> + TWENTY: <a href="#chap20"><i>A Map and the Necklace</i></a><br /> + TWENTY-ONE: <a href="#chap21"><i>The Secret House</i></a><br /> + TWENTY-TWO: <a href="#chap22"><i>The Corona Machine</i></a><br /> + TWENTY-THREE: <a href="#chap23"><i>The Truth About the Clock on the Marquetry Cabinet</i></a><br /> + TWENTY-FOUR: <a href="#chap24"><i>Ann Upcott's Story</i></a><br /> + TWENTY-FIVE: <a href="#chap25"><i>What Happened on the Night of the 27th</i></a><br /> + TWENTY-SIX: <a href="#chap26"><i>The Façade of Notre Dame</i></a><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER ONE: <i>Letters of Mark</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt, the solicitors +on the east side of Russell Square, counted amongst +their clients a great many who had undertakings +established in France; and the firm was very proud of this +branch of its business. +</p> + +<p> +"It gives us a place in history," Mr. Jeremy Haslitt +used to say. "For it dates from the year 1806, when +Mr. James Frobisher, then our very energetic senior +partner, organised the escape of hundreds of British +subjects who were detained in France by the edict of the first +Napoleon. The firm received the thanks of His Majesty's +Government and has been fortunate enough to retain the +connection thus made. I look after that side of our +affairs myself." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt's daily batch of letters, therefore, contained +as a rule a fair number bearing the dark-blue stamp of +France upon their envelopes. On this morning of early +April, however, there was only one. It was addressed in +a spidery, uncontrolled hand with which Mr. Haslitt was +unfamiliar. But it bore the postmark of Dijon, and +Mr. Haslitt tore it open rather quickly. He had a client in +Dijon, a widow, Mrs. Harlowe, of whose health he had +had bad reports. The letter was certainly written from +her house, La Maison Crenelle, but not by her. He +turned to the signature. +</p> + +<p> +"Waberski?" he said, with a frown. "Boris Waberski?" And +then, as he identified his correspondent, "Oh, +yes, yes." +</p> + +<p> +He sat down in his chair and read. The first part of +the letter was merely flowers and compliments, but +half-way down the second page its object was made clear as +glass. It was five hundred pounds. Old Mr. Haslitt +smiled and read on, keeping up, whilst he read, a +one-sided conversation with the writer. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a great necessity of that money," wrote Boris, +"and——" +</p> + +<p> +"I am quite sure of that," said Mr. Haslitt. +</p> + +<p> +"My beloved sister, Jeanne-Marie——" the letter +continued. +</p> + +<p> +"Sister-in-law," Mr. Haslitt corrected. +</p> + +<p> +"—cannot live for long, in spite of all the care and +attention I give to her," Boris Waberski went on. "She +has left me, as no doubt you know, a large share of her +fortune. Already, then, it is mine—yes? One may say +so and be favourably understood. We must look at the +facts with the eyes. Expedite me, then, by the +recommended post a little of what is mine and agree my +distinguished salutations." +</p> + +<p> +Haslitt's smile became a broad grin. He had in one +of his tin boxes a copy of the will of Jeanne-Marie +Harlowe drawn up in due form by her French notary at +Dijon, by which every farthing she possessed was +bequeathed without condition to her husband's niece and +adopted daughter, Betty Harlowe. Jeremy Haslitt almost +destroyed that letter. He folded it; his fingers twitched +at it; there was already actually a tear at the edges of the +sheets when he changed his mind. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said to himself. "No! With the Boris +Waberskis one never knows," and he locked the letter +away on a ledge of his private safe. +</p> + +<p> +He was very glad that he had when three weeks later +he read, in the obituary column of <i>The Times</i>, the +announcement of Mrs. Harlowe's death, and received a big +card with a very deep black border in the French style +from Betty Harlowe inviting him to the funeral at Dijon. +The invitation was merely formal. He could hardly have +reached Dijon in time for the ceremony had he started +off that instant. He contented himself with writing a few +lines of sincere condolence to the girl, and a letter to the +French notary in which he placed the services of the firm +at Betty's disposal. Then he waited. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall hear again from little Boris," he said, and he +heard within the week. The handwriting was more +spidery and uncontrolled than ever; hysteria and indignation +had played havoc with Waberski's English; also he +had doubled his demand. +</p> + +<p> +"It is outside belief," he wrote. "Nothing has she left +to her so attentive brother. There is something here I +do not much like. It must be one thousand pounds now, +by the recommended post. 'You have always had the +world against you, my poor Boris,' she say with the tears +all big in her dear eyes. 'But I make all right for you in +my will.' And now nothing! I speak, of course, to my +niece—ah, that hard one! She snap her the fingers at +me! Is that a behaviour? One thousand pounds, mister! +Otherwise there will be awkwardnesses! Yes! People +do not snap them the fingers at Boris Waberski without +the payment. So one thousand pounds by the recommended +post or awkwardnesses"; and this time Boris +Waberski did not invite Mr. Haslitt to agree any salutations, +distinguished or otherwise, but simply signed his +name with a straggling pen which shot all over the sheet. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt did not smile over this letter. He rubbed +the palms of his hands softly together. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we shall have to make some awkwardnesses +too," he said hastily, and he locked this second letter +away with the first. But Mr. Haslitt found it a little +difficult to settle to his work. There was that girl out +there in the big house at Dijon and no one of her race +near her! He got up from his chair abruptly and crossed +the corridor to the offices of his junior partner. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim, you were at Monte Carlo this winter," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"For a week," answered Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I asked you to call on a client of ours who +has a villa there—Mrs. Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher nodded. "I did. But Mrs. Harlowe +was ill. There was a niece, but she was out." +</p> + +<p> +"You saw no one, then?" Jeremy Haslitt asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No, that's wrong," Jim corrected. "I saw a strange +creature who came to the door to make Mrs. Harlowe's +excuses—a Russian." +</p> + +<p> +"Boris Waberski," said Mr. Haslitt. +</p> + +<p> +"That's the name." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt sat down in a chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me about him, Jim." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher stared at nothing for a few moments. +He was a young man of twenty-six who had only during +this last year succeeded to his partnership. Though quick +enough when action was imperative, he was naturally +deliberate in his estimates of other people's characters; and +a certain awe he had of old Jeremy Haslitt doubled that +natural deliberation in any matters of the firm's business. +He answered at length. +</p> + +<p> +"He is a tall, shambling fellow with a shock of grey +hair standing up like wires above a narrow forehead and +a pair of wild eyes. He made me think of a marionette +whose limbs have not been properly strung. I should +imagine that he was rather extravagant and emotional. +He kept twitching at his moustache with very long, +tobacco-stained fingers. The sort of man who might go +off at the deep end at any moment." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"That's just what I thought." +</p> + +<p> +"Is he giving you any trouble?" asked Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet," said Mr. Haslitt. "But Mrs. Harlowe is +dead, and I think it very likely that he will. Did he play +at the tables?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, rather high," said Jim. "I suppose that he lived +on Mrs. Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so," said Mr. Haslitt, and he sat for a little +while in silence. Then: "It's a pity you didn't see Betty +Harlowe. I stopped at Dijon once on my way to the +South of France five years ago when Simon Harlowe, the +husband, was alive. Betty was then a long-legged slip of +a girl in black silk stockings with a pale, clear face and +dark hair and big eyes—rather beautiful." Mr. Haslitt +moved in his chair uncomfortably. That old house with +its great garden of chestnuts and sycamores and that girl +alone in it with an aggrieved and half-crazed man thinking +out awkwardnesses for her—Mr. Haslitt did not like +the picture! +</p> + +<p> +"Jim," he said suddenly, "could you arrange your work +so that you could get away at short notice, if it becomes +advisable?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim looked up in surprise. Excursions and alarms, as +the old stage directions have it, were not recognised as a +rule by the firm of Frobisher & Haslitt. If its furniture +was dingy, its methods were stately; clients might be +urgent, but haste and hurry were words for which the +firm had no use No doubt, somewhere round the corner, +there would be an attorney who understood them. Yet +here was Mr. Haslitt himself, with his white hair and his +curious round face, half-babyish, half-supremely intelligent, +actually advocating that his junior partner should +be prepared to skip to the Continent at a word. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt I could," said Jim, and Mr. Haslitt looked +him over with approbation. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher had an unusual quality of which his +acquaintances, even his friends, knew only the outward +signs. He was a solitary person. Very few people up +till now had mattered to him at all, and even those he +could do without. It was his passion to feel that his life +and the means of his life did not depend upon the +purchased skill of other people; and he had spent the spare +months of his life in the fulfilment of his passion. A +half-decked sailing-boat which one man could handle, an +ice-axe, a rifle, an inexhaustible volume or two like <i>The +Ring and the Book</i>—these with the stars and his own +thoughts had been his companions on many lonely expeditions; +and in consequence he had acquired a queer little +look of aloofness which made him at once noticeable +amongst his fellows. A misleading look, since it +encouraged a confidence for which there might not be +sufficient justification. It was just this look which persuaded +Mr. Haslitt now. "This is the very man to deal with +creatures like Boris Waberski," he thought, but he did +not say so aloud. +</p> + +<p> +What he did say was: +</p> + +<p> +"It may not be necessary after all. Betty Harlowe has +a French lawyer. No doubt he is adequate. Besides"—and +he smiled as he recollected a phrase in Waberski's +second letter—"Betty seems very capable of looking after +herself. We shall see." +</p> + +<p> +He went back to his own office, and for a week he heard +no more from Dijon. His anxiety, indeed, was almost +forgotten when suddenly startling news arrived and by the +most unexpected channel. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher brought it. He broke into Mr. Haslitt's +office at the sacred moment when the senior partner was +dictating to a clerk the answers to his morning letters. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir!" cried Jim, and stopped short at the sight of the +clerk. Mr. Haslitt took a quick look at his young +partner's face and said: +</p> + +<p> +"We will resume these answers, Godfrey, later on." +</p> + +<p> +The clerk took his shorthand notebook out of the room, +and Mr. Haslitt turned to Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, what's your bad news, Jim?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim blurted it out. +</p> + +<p> +"Waberski accuses Betty Harlowe of murder." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt sprang to his feet. Jim Frobisher could +not have said whether incredulity or anger had the upper +hand with the old man, the one so creased his forehead, +the other so blazed in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Little Betty Harlowe!" he said in a wondering voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Waberski has laid a formal charge with the +Prefect of Police at Dijon. He accuses Betty of +poisoning Mrs. Harlowe on the night of April the +twenty-seventh." +</p> + +<p> +"But Betty's not arrested?" Mr. Haslitt exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"No, but she's under surveillance." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt sat heavily down in his arm-chair at his +table. Extravagant! Uncontrolled! These were very +mild epithets for Boris Waberski. Here was a devilish +malignity at work in the rogue, a passion for revenge +just as mean as could be imagined. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know all this, Jim?" he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"I have had a letter this morning from Dijon." +</p> + +<p> +"You?" exclaimed Mr. Haslitt, and the question caught +hold of Jim Frobisher and plunged him too among +perplexities. In the first shock of the news, the monstrous +fact of the accusation had driven everything else out of +his head. Now he asked himself why, after all, had the +news come to him and not to the partner who had the +Harlowe estate in his charge. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is strange," he replied. "And here's another +queer thing. The letter doesn't come from Betty +Harlowe, but from a friend, a companion of hers, Ann +Upcott." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt was a little relieved. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty had a friend with her, then? That's a good +thing." He reached out his hand across the table. "Let +me read the letter, Jim." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher had been carrying it in his hand, and he +gave it now to Jeremy Haslitt. It was a letter of many +sheets, and Jeremy let the edges slip and flicker under the +ball of his thumb. +</p> + +<p> +"Have I got to read all this?" he said ruefully, and +he set himself to his task. Boris Waberski had first of all +accused Betty to her face. Betty had contemptuously +refused to answer the charge, and Waberski had gone +straight off to the Prefect of Police. He had returned +in an hour's time, wildly gesticulating and talking aloud +to himself. He had actually asked Ann Upcott to back +him up. Then he had packed his bags and retired to an +hotel in the town. The story was set out in detail, with +quotations from Waberski's violent, crazy talk; and as +the old man read, Jim Frobisher became more and more +uneasy, more and more troubled. +</p> + +<p> +He was sitting by the tall, broad window which looked +out upon the square, expecting some explosion of wrath +and contempt. But he saw anxiety peep out of Mr. Haslitt's +face and stay there as he read. More than once +he stopped altogether in his reading, like a man seeking +to remember or perhaps to discover. +</p> + +<p> +"But the whole thing's as clear as daylight," Jim said +to himself impatiently. And yet—and yet—Mr. Haslitt +had sat in that arm-chair during the better part of the +day, during the better part of thirty years. How many +men and women during those years had crossed the +roadway below this window and crept into this quiet oblong +room with their grievances, their calamities, their +confessions? And had passed out again, each one contributing +his little to complete the old man's knowledge and sharpen +the edge of his wit? Then, if Mr. Haslitt was troubled, +there was something in that letter, or some mission from +it, which he himself in his novitiate had overlooked. He +began to read it over again in his mind to the best of his +recollection, but he had not got far before Mr. Haslitt +put the letter down. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely, sir," cried Jim, "it's an obvious case of blackmail." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt awoke with a little shake of his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Blackmail? Oh! that of course, Jim." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt got up and unlocked his safe. He took +from it the two Waberski letters and brought them across +the room to Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's the evidence, as damning as any one could +wish." +</p> + +<p> +Jim read the letters through and uttered a little cry of +delight. +</p> + +<p> +"The rogue has delivered himself over to us." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Mr. Haslitt. +</p> + +<p> +But to him, at all events, that was not enough; he was +still looking through the lines of the letter for something +beyond, which he could not find. +</p> + +<p> +"Then what's troubling you?" asked Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt took his stand upon the worn hearthrug +with his back towards the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"This, Jim," and he began to expound. "In ninety-five +of these cases out of a hundred, there is something else, +something behind the actual charge, which isn't +mentioned, but on which the blackmailer is really banking. +As a rule it's some shameful little secret, some blot on +the family honour, which any sort of public trial would +bring to light. And there must be something of that kind +here. The more preposterous Waberski's accusation is, +the more certain it is that he knows something to the +discredit of the Harlowe name, which any Harlowe would +wish to keep dark. Only, I haven't an idea what the +wretched thing can be!" +</p> + +<p> +"It might be some trifle," Jim suggested, "which a +crazy person like Waberski would exaggerate." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Mr. Haslitt agreed. "That happens. A man +brooding over imagined wrongs, and flighty and +extravagant besides—yes, that might well be, Jim." +</p> + +<p> +Jeremy Haslitt spoke in a more cheerful voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us see exactly what we do know of the family," +he said, and he pulled up a chair to face Jim Frobisher +and the window. But he had not yet sat down in it, when +there came a discreet knock upon the door, and a clerk +entered to announce a visitor. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet," said Mr. Haslitt before the name of the +visitor had been mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +"Very good, sir," said the clerk, and he retired. The +firm of Frobisher & Haslitt conducted its business in that +way. It was the real thing as a firm of solicitors, and +clients who didn't like its methods were very welcome to +take their affairs to the attorney round the corner. Just +as people who go to the real thing in the line of tailors +must put up with the particular style in which he cuts +their clothes. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt turned back to Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us see what we know," he said, and he sat down +in the chair. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWO: <i>A Cry for Help</i> +</h3> + +<p> +"Simon Harlow," he began, "was the owner of +the famous Clos du Prince vineyards on the Côte-d'Or +to the east of Dijon. He had an estate in Norfolk, +this big house, the Maison Crenelle in Dijon, and a villa +at Monte Carlo. But he spent most of his time in Dijon, +where at the age of forty-five he married a French lady, +Jeanne-Marie Raviart. There was, I believe, quite a +little romance about the affair. Jeanne-Marie was +married and separated from her husband, and Simon +Harlowe waited, I think, for ten years until the husband +Raviart died." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher moved quickly and Mr. Haslitt, who +seemed to be reading off this history in the pattern of +the carpet, looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see what you mean," he said, replying to Jim's +movement. "Yes, there might have been some sort of +affair between those two before they were free to marry. +But nowadays, my dear Jim! Opinion takes a more +human view than it did in my youth. Besides, don't you +see, this little secret, to be of any value to Boris +Waberski, must be near enough to Betty Harlowe—I don't say +to affect her if published, but to make Waberski think +that she would hate to have it published. Now Betty +Harlowe doesn't come into the picture at all until two +years after Simon and Jeanne-Marie were married, when +it became clear that they were not likely to have any +children. No, the love-affairs of Simon Harlowe are +sufficiently remote for us to leave them aside." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher accepted the demolition of his idea with +a flush of shame. +</p> + +<p> +"I was a fool to think of it," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit," replied Mr. Haslitt cheerfully. "Let us +look at every possibility. That's the only way which will +help us to get a glimpse of the truth. I resume, then. +Simon Harlowe was a collector. Yes, he had a passion +for collecting and a very catholic one. His one sitting-room +at the Maison Crenelle was a perfect treasure-house, +not only of beautiful things, but of out-of-the-way things +too. He liked to live amongst them and do his work +amongst them. His married life did not last long. For +he died five years ago at the age of fifty-one." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt's eyes once more searched for recollections +amongst the convolutions of the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +"That's really about all I know of him. He was a +pleasant fellow enough, but not very sociable. No, there's +nothing to light a candle for us there, I am afraid." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt turned his thoughts to the widow. +</p> + +<p> +"Jeanne-Marie Harlowe," he said. "It's extraordinary +how little I know about her, now I come to count it up. +Natural too, though. For she sold the Norfolk estate +and has since passed her whole time between Monte Carlo +and Dijon and—oh, yes—a little summer-house on the +Côte-d'Or amongst her vineyards." +</p> + +<p> +"She was left rich, I suppose?" Frobisher asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well off, at all events," Mr. Haslitt replied. +"The Clos du Prince Burgundy has a fine reputation, but +there's not a great deal of it." +</p> + +<p> +"Did she come to England ever?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never," said Mr. Haslitt. "She was content, it +seems, with Dijon, though to my mind the smaller +provincial towns of France are dull enough to make one +scream. However, she was used to it, and then her heart +began to trouble her, and for the last two years she has +been an invalid. There's nothing to help us there." And +Mr. Haslitt looked across to Jim for confirmation. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we are only left the child Betty Harlowe and—oh, +yes, your correspondent, your voluminous correspondent, +Ann Upcott. Who is she, Jim? Where did she +spring from? How does she find herself in the Maison +Crenelle? Come, confess, young man," and Mr. Haslitt +archly looked at his junior partner. "Why should Boris +Waberski expect her support?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher threw his arms wide. +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't an idea," he said. "I have never seen her. +I have never heard of her. I never knew of her existence +until that letter came this morning with her name signed +at the end of it." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt started up. He crossed the room to his +table and, fixing his folding glasses on the bridge of his +nose, he bent over the letter. +</p> + +<p> +"But she writes to you, Jim," he objected. "'Dear +Mr. Frobisher,' she writes. She doesn't address the firm +at all"; and he waited, looking at Jim, expecting him to +withdraw this denial. +</p> + +<p> +Jim, however, only shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"It's the most bewildering thing," he replied. "I can't +make head or tail of it"; and Mr. Haslitt could not doubt +now that he spoke the truth, so utterly and frankly baffled +the young man was. "Why should Ann Upcott write to +me? I have been asking myself that question for the last +half-hour. And why didn't Betty Harlowe write to you, +who have had her affairs in your care?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" +</p> + +<p> +That last question helped Mr. Haslitt to an explanation. +His face took a livelier expression. +</p> + +<p> +"The answer to that is in Waberski's, the second letter. +Betty—she snap her fingers at his awkwardnesses. She +doesn't take the charge seriously. She will have left it +to the French notary to dispose of it. Yes—I think that +makes Ann Upcott's letter to you intelligible, too. The +ceremonies of the Law in a foreign country would +frighten a stranger, as this girl is apparently, more than +they would Betty Harlowe, who has lived for four years +in the midst of them. So she writes to the first name in +the title of the firm, and writes to him as a man. That's +it, Jim," and the old man rubbed his hands together in +his satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"A girl in terror wouldn't get any comfort out of writing +to an abstraction. She wants to know that she's in +touch with a real person. So she writes, 'Dear +Mr. Frobisher.' That's it! You can take my word for it." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt walked back to his chair. But he did not +sit down in it; he stood with his hands in his pockets, +looking out of the window over Frobisher's head. +</p> + +<p> +"But that doesn't bring us any nearer to finding out +what is Boris Waberski's strong suit, does it? We +haven't a clue to it," he said ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +To both of the men, indeed, Mr. Haslitt's flat, +unillumined narrative of facts, without a glimpse into the +characters of any of the participants in the little drama, +seemed the most unhelpful thing. Yet the whole truth +was written there—the truth not only of Waberski's +move, but of all the strange terrors and mysteries into +which the younger of the two men was now to be plunged. +Jim Frobisher was to recognise that, when, shaken to the +soul, he resumed his work in the office. For it was +interrupted now. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt, looking out of the window over his partner's +head, saw a telegraph-boy come swinging across the +square and hesitate in the roadway below. +</p> + +<p> +"I expect that's a telegram for us," he said, with the +hopeful anticipation people in trouble have that +something from outside will happen and set them right. +</p> + +<p> +Jim turned round quickly. The boy was still upon the +pavement examining the numbers of the houses. +</p> + +<p> +"We ought to have a brass plate upon the door," said +Jim with a touch of impatience; and Mr. Haslitt's +eyebrows rose half the height of his forehead towards his +thick white hair. He was really distressed by the Waberski +incident, but this suggestion, and from a partner in +the firm, shocked him like a sacrilege. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear boy, what are you thinking of?" he expostulated. +"I hope I am not one of those obstinate old fogies +who refuse to march with the times. We have had, as +you know, a telephone instrument recently installed in the +junior clerks' office. I believe that I myself proposed it. +But a brass plate upon the door! My dear Jim! Let us +leave that to Harley Street and Southampton Row! But +I see that telegram is for us." +</p> + +<p> +The tiny Mercury with the shako and red cord to his +uniform made up his mind and disappeared into the hall +below. The telegram was brought upstairs and Mr. Haslitt +tore it open. He stared at it blankly for a few +seconds, then without a word, but with a very anxious +look in his eyes, he handed it to Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher read: +</p> + +<p class="quote"> +<i>Please, please, send some one to help me at once. +The Prefect of Police has called in Hanaud, a great +detective of the Sûrété in Paris. They must think +me guilty.—Betty Harlowe.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The telegram fluttered from Jim's fingers to the floor. +It was like a cry for help at night coming from a great +distance. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go, sir, by the night boat," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure!" said Mr. Haslitt a little absently. +</p> + +<p> +Jim, however, had enthusiasm enough for both. His +chivalry was fired, as is the way with lonely men, by the +picture his imagination drew. The little girl, Betty +Harlowe! What age was she? Twenty-one! Not a day +more. She had been wandering with all the proud +indifference of her sex and youth, until suddenly she found +her feet caught in some trap set by a traitor, and looked +about her; and terror came and with it a wild cry for +help. +</p> + +<p> +"Girls never notice danger signals," he said. "No, they +walk blindly into the very heart of catastrophe." Who +could tell what links of false and cunning evidence Boris +Waberski had been hammering away at in the dark, to +slip swiftly at the right moment over her wrist and ankle? +And with that question he was seized with a great +discouragement. +</p> + +<p> +"We know very little of Criminal Procedure, even in +our own country, in this office," he said regretfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Happily," said Mr. Haslitt with some tartness. With +him it was the Firm first and last. Messrs. Frobisher & +Haslitt never went in to the Criminal Courts. Litigation, +indeed, even of the purest kind was frowned upon. It is +true there was a small special staff, under the leadership +of an old managing clerk, tucked away upon an upper +floor, like an unpresentable relation in a great house, +which did a little of that kind of work. But it only did +it for hereditary clients, and then as a favour. +</p> + +<p> +"However," said Mr. Haslitt as he noticed Jim's +discomfort, "I haven't a doubt, my boy, that you will be +equal to whatever is wanted. But remember, there's +something at the back of this which we here don't +know." +</p> + +<p> +Jim shifted his position rather abruptly. This cry of +the old man was becoming parrot-like—a phrase, a +formula. Jim was thinking of the girl in Dijon and hearing +her piteous cry for help. She was not "snapping her +the fingers" now. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a matter of common sense," Mr. Haslitt insisted. +"Take a comparison. Bath, for instance, would never +call in Scotland Yard over a case of this kind. There +would have to be the certainty of a crime first, and then +grave doubt as to who was the criminal. This is a case +for an autopsy and the doctors. If they call in this man +Hanaud"—and he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +He picked the telegram up from the floor and read it +through again. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—Hanaud," he repeated, his face clouding and +growing bright and clouding again like a man catching at +and just missing a very elusive recollection. He gave up +the pursuit in the end. "Well, Jim, you had better take +the two letters of Waberski, and Ann Upcott's three-volume +novel, and Betty's telegram"—he gathered the +papers together and enclosed them in a long envelope—"and +I shall expect you back again with a smiling face in +a very few days. I should like to see our little Boris when +he is asked to explain those letters." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Haslitt gave the envelope to Jim and rang his bell. +</p> + +<p> +"There is some one waiting to see me, I think," he +said to the clerk who answered it. +</p> + +<p> +The clerk named a great landowner, who had been kicking +his heels during the last half-hour in an undusted +waiting-room with a few mouldy old Law books in a +battered glass case to keep him company. +</p> + +<p> +"You can show him in now," said Mr. Haslitt as Jim +retired to his own office; and when the great landowner +entered, he merely welcomed him with a reproach. +</p> + +<p> +"You didn't make an appointment, did you?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +But all through that interview, though his advice was +just the precise, clear advice for which the firm was +quietly famous, Mr. Haslitt's mind was still playing +hide-and-seek with a memory, catching glimpses of the fringes +of its skirt as it gleamed and vanished. +</p> + +<p> +"Memory is a woman," he said to himself. "If I don't +run after her she will come of her own accord." +</p> + +<p> +But he was in the common case of men with women: +he could not but run after her. Towards the end of the +interview, however, his shoulders and head moved with a +little jerk, and he wrote a word down on a slip of paper. +As soon as his client had gone, he wrote a note and sent +it off by a messenger who had orders to wait for an +answer. The messenger returned within the hour and +Mr. Haslitt hurried to Jim Frobisher's office. +</p> + +<p> +Jim had just finished handing over his affairs to various +clerks and was locking up the drawers of his desk. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim, I have remembered where I have heard the name +of this man Hanaud before. You have met Julius +Ricardo? He's one of our clients." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Frobisher. "I remember him—a rather +finnicking person in Grosvenor Square." +</p> + +<p> +"That's the man. He's a friend of Hanaud and +absurdly proud of the friendship. He and Hanaud were +somehow mixed up in a rather scandalous crime some +time ago—at Aix-les-Bains, I think. Well, Ricardo will +give you a letter of introduction to him, and tell you +something about him, if you will go round to Grosvenor +Square at five this afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"Capital!" said Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +He kept the appointment, and was told how he must +expect to be awed at one moment, leaped upon unpleasantly +at the next, ridiculed at a third, and treated with +great courtesy and friendship at the fourth. Jim +discounted Mr. Ricardo's enthusiasm, but he got the letter +and crossed the Channel that night. On the journey it +occurred to him that if Hanaud was a man of such high +mark, he would not be free, even at an urgent call, to +pack his bags and leave for the provinces in an instant. +Jim broke his journey, therefore, at Paris, and in the +course of the morning found his way to the Direction of +the Sûrété on the Quai d'Horloge just behind the Palais +de Justice. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud?" he asked eagerly, and the porter +took his card and his letter of introduction. The great +man was still in Paris, then, he thought with relief. He +was taken to a long dark corridor, lit with electric globes +even on that bright morning of early summer. There +he rubbed elbows with malefactors and gendarmes for +half an hour whilst his confidence in himself ebbed away. +Then a bell rang and a policeman in plain clothes went +up to him. One side of the corridor was lined with a +row of doors. +</p> + +<p> +"It is for you, sir," said the policeman, and he led +Frobisher to one of the doors and opened it, and +stood aside. Frobisher straightened his shoulders and +marched in. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER THREE: <i>Servants of Chance</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Frobisher found himself at one end of an oblong +room. Opposite to him a couple of windows looked +across the shining river to the big Théâtre du Chatelet +On his left hand was a great table with a few neatly +arranged piles of papers, at which a big, rather +heavily-built man was sitting. Frobisher looked at that man as +a novice in a duelling field might look at the master +swordsman whom he was committed to fight; with a little +shock of surprise that after all he appeared to be just +like other men. Hanaud, on his side, could not have +been said to have looked at Frobisher at all; yet when he +spoke it was obvious that somehow he had looked and to +very good purpose. He rose with a little bow and apologised. +</p> + +<p> +"I have kept you waiting, Mr. Frobisher. My dear +friend Mr. Ricardo did not mention your object in his +letter. I had the idea that you came with the usual +wish to see something of the underworld. Now that +I see you, I recognise your wish is more serious." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was a man of middle age with a head of +thick dark hair, and the round face and shaven chin of +a comedian. A pair of remarkably light eyes under +rather heavy lids alone gave a significance to him, at +all events when seen for the first time in a mood of +good-will. He pointed to a chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you take a seat? I will tell you, Mr. Frobisher, +I have a very soft place in my heart for Mr. Ricardo, and +a friend of his—— These are words, however. What +can I do?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher laid down his hat and stick upon a side +table and took the chair in front of Hanaud's table. +</p> + +<p> +"I am partner in a firm of lawyers which looks after +the English interests of a family in Dijon," he said, and +he saw all life and expression smoothed out of Hanaud's +face. A moment ago he had been in the company of a +genial and friendly companion; now he was looking at +a Chinaman. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"The family has the name of Harlowe," Jim continued. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +The ejaculation had no surprise in it, and hardly any +interest. Jim, however, persisted. +</p> + +<p> +"And the surviving member of it, a girl of twenty, +Betty Harlowe, has been charged with murder by a +Russian who is connected with the family by +marriage—Boris Waberski." +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" said Hanaud. "And why do you come to me, +Mr. Frobisher?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim stared at the detective. The reason of his coming +was obvious. +</p> + +<p> +And yet—he was no longer sure of his ground. +Hanaud had pulled open a drawer in his table and was +beginning to put away in it one of his files. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" he said, as who should say, "I am listening." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, perhaps I am under a mistake," said Jim. "But +my firm has been informed that you, Monsieur Hanaud, +are in charge of the case," he said, and Hanaud's movements +were at once arrested. He sat with the file poised +on the palm of his hand as though he was weighing it, +extraordinarily still; and Jim had a swift impression that +he was more than disconcerted. Then Hanaud put the +file into the drawer and closed the drawer softly. As +softly he spoke, but in a sleek voice which to Frobisher's +ears had a note in it which was actually alarming. +</p> + +<p> +"So you have been informed of that, Mr. Frobisher! +And in London! And—yes—this is only Wednesday! +News travels very quickly nowadays, to be sure! Well, +your firm has been correctly informed. I congratulate +you. The first point is scored by you." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher was quick to seize upon that word. He +had thought out upon his journey in what spirit he might +most usefully approach the detective. Hanaud's bitter +little remark gave him the very opening which he needed. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Monsieur Hanaud, I don't take that point of +view at all," he argued earnestly. "I am happy to believe +that there is going to be no antagonism between us. For, +if there were, I should assuredly get the worst of it. +No! I am certain that the one wish you have in this +matter is to get at the truth. Whilst my wish is that +you should just look upon me as a very second-rate +colleague who by good fortune can give you a little help." +</p> + +<p> +A smile flickered across Hanaud's face and restored it +to some of its geniality. +</p> + +<p> +"It has always been a good rule to lay it on with a +trowel," he observed. "Now, what kind of help, +Mr. Frobisher?" +</p> + +<p> +"This kind of help, Monsieur Hanaud. Two letters +from Boris Waberski demanding money, the second one +with threats. Both were received by my firm before he +brought this charge, and both of course remain +unanswered." +</p> + +<p> +He took the letters from the long envelope and handed +them across the table to Hanaud, who read them through +slowly, mentally translating the phrases into French as +he read. Frobisher watched his face for some expression +of relief or satisfaction. But to his utter disappointment +no such change came; and it was with a deprecating and +almost regretful air that Hanaud turned to him in the +end. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—no doubt these two letters have a certain +importance. But we mustn't exaggerate it. The case is very +difficult." +</p> + +<p> +"Difficult!" cried Jim in exasperation. He seemed to +be hammering and hammering in vain against some thick +wall of stupidity. Yet this man in front of him wasn't +stupid. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't understand it!" he exclaimed. "Here's the +clearest instance of blackmail that I can imagine——" +</p> + +<p> +"Blackmail's an ugly word, Mr. Frobisher," Hanaud +warned him. +</p> + +<p> +"And blackmail's an ugly thing," said Jim. "Come, +Monsieur Hanaud, Boris Waberski lives in France. You +will know something about him. You will have a +dossier." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud pounced upon the word with a little whoop +of delight, his face broke into smiles, he shook a +forefinger gleefully at his visitor. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, ah, ah, ah! A dossier! Yes, I was waiting for +that word! The great legend of the dossiers! You have +that charming belief too, Mr. Frobisher. France and her +dossiers! Yes. If her coal-mines fail her, she can always +keep warm by burning her dossiers! The moment you +land for the first time at Calais—bourn! your dossier +begins, eh? You travel to Paris—so! You dine at the +Ritz Hotel—so! Afterwards you go where you ought +not to go—so-o-o! And you go back late to the hotel +very uncomfortable because you are quite sure that somewhere +in the still night six little officials with black beards +and green-shaded lamps are writing it all down in your +dossier. But—wait!" +</p> + +<p> +He suddenly rose from his chair with his finger to his +lips, and his eyes opened wide. Never was a man so +mysterious, so important in his mystery. He stole on +tiptoe, with a lightness of step amazing in so bulky a man, +to the door. Noiselessly and very slowly, with an alert, +bright eye cocked at Frobisher like a bird's, he turned the +handle. Then he jerked the door swiftly inwards towards +him. It was the classic detection of the eavesdropper, +seen in a hundred comedies and farces; and carried out +with so excellent a mimicry that Jim, even in this office of +the Sûrété, almost expected to see a flustered chambermaid +sprawl heavily forward on her knees. He saw nothing, +however, but a grimy corridor lit with artificial light +in which men were patiently waiting. Hanaud closed the +door again, with an air of intense relief. +</p> + +<p> +"The Prime Minister has not overheard us. We are +safe," he hissed, and he crept back to Frobisher's side. +He stooped and whispered in the ear of that bewildered +man: +</p> + +<p> +"I can tell you about those dossiers. They are for +nine-tenths the gossip of the <i>concièrge</i> translated into the +language of a policeman who thinks that everybody had +better be in prison. Thus, the <i>concièrge</i> says: This +Mr. Frobisher—on Tuesday he came home at one in the +morning and on Thursday at three in fancy dress; and in the +policeman's report it becomes, 'Mr. Frobisher is of a loose +and excessive life.' And that goes into your dossier—yes, +my friend, just so! But here in the Sûrété—never +breathe a word of it, or you ruin me!—here we are like +your Miss Betty Harlowe, 'we snap us the fingers at those +dossiers.'" +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher's mind was of the deliberate order. To +change from one mood to another required a progression +of ideas. He hardly knew for the moment whether he +was upon his head or his heels. A minute ago Hanaud +had been the grave agent of Justice; without a hint he +had leaped to buffoonery, and with a huge enjoyment. +He had become half urchin, half clown. Jim could almost +hear the bells of his cap still tinkling. He simply stared, +and Hanaud with a rueful smile resumed his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"If we work together at Dijon, Monsieur Frobisher," +he said with whimsical regret, "I shall not enjoy myself +as I did with my dear little friend Mr. Ricardo at Aix. +No, indeed! Had I made this little pantomime for him, +he would have sat with the eyes popping out of his head. +He would have whispered, 'The Prime Minister comes +in the morning to spy outside your door—oh!' and he +would have been thrilled to the marrow of his bones. But +you—you look at me all cold and stony, and you say to +yourself, 'This Hanaud, he is a comic!'" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Jim earnestly, and Hanaud interrupted the +protest with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"It does not matter." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad," said Jim. "For you just now said something +which I am very anxious you should not withdraw. +You held me out a hope that we should work together." Hanaud +leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen," he said genially. "You have been frank and +loyal with me. So I relieve your mind. This Waberski +affair—the Prefect at Dijon does not take it very +seriously; neither do I here. It is, of course, a charge of +murder, and that has to be examined with care." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course." +</p> + +<p> +"And equally, of course, there is some little thing +behind it," Hanaud continued, surprising Frobisher with +the very words which Mr. Haslitt had used the day +before, though the one spoke in English and the other in +French. "As a lawyer you will know that. Some little +unpleasant fact which is best kept to ourselves. But it is +a simple affair, and with these two letters you have +brought me, simpler than ever. We shall ask Waberski +to explain these letters and some other things too, if he +can. He is a type, that Boris Waberski! The body of +Madame Harlowe will be exhumed to-day and the evidence +of the doctors taken, and afterwards, no doubt, +the case will be dismissed and you can deal with Waberski +as you please." +</p> + +<p> +"And that little secret?" asked Jim. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt it will come to light. But what does that +matter if it only comes to light in the office of the +examining magistrate, and does not pass beyond the door?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing at all," Jim agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"You will see. We are not so alarming after all, and +your little client can put her pretty head upon the pillow +without any fear that an injustice will be done to her." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Monsieur Hanaud!" Jim Frobisher cried +warmly. He was conscious of so great a relief that he +himself was surprised by it. He had been quite captured +by his pity for that unknown girl in the big house, set +upon by a crazy rascal and with no champion but another +girl of her own years. "Yes, this is good news to me." +</p> + +<p> +But he had hardly finished speaking before a doubt +crept into his mind as to the sincerity of the man sitting +opposite to him. Jim did not mean to be played and +landed like a silly fish, however inexperienced he might +be. He looked at Hanaud and wondered. Was this +present geniality of his any less assumed than his other +moods? Jim was unsettled in his estimate of the +detective. One moment a judge, and rather implacable, now +an urchin, now a friend! Which was travesty and which +truth? Luckily there was a test question which +Mr. Haslitt had put only yesterday as he looked out from the +window across Russell Square. Jim now repeated it. +</p> + +<p> +"The affair is simple, you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of the simplest." +</p> + +<p> +"Then how comes it, Monsieur Hanaud, that the examining +judge at Dijon still finds it necessary to call in to +his assistance one of the chiefs of the Sûrété of Paris?" +</p> + +<p> +The question was obviously expected, and no less +obviously difficult to answer. Hanaud nodded his head once +or twice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said, and again "Yes," like a man in doubt. +He looked at Jim with appraising eyes. Then with a +rush, "I shall tell you everything, and when I have told +you, you will give me your word that you will not betray +my confidence to any one in this world. For this is +serious." +</p> + +<p> +Jim could not doubt Hanaud's sincerity at this moment, +nor his friendliness. They shone in the man like a strong +flame. +</p> + +<p> +"I give you my word now," he said, and he reached out +his hand across the table. Hanaud shook it. "I can talk +to you freely, then," he answered, and he produced a little +blue bundle of very black cigarettes. "You shall smoke." +</p> + +<p> +The two men lit their cigarettes and through the blue +cloud Hanaud explained: +</p> + +<p> +"I go really to Dijon on quite another matter. This +Waberski affair, it is a pretence! The examining judge +who calls me in—see, now, you have a phrase for him," +and Hanaud proudly dropped into English more or less. +"He excuse his face! Yes, that is your expressive idiom. +He excuse his face, and you will see, my friend, that it +needs a lot of excusing, that face of his, yes. Now listen! +I get hot when I think of that examining judge." +</p> + +<p> +He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and, setting +his sentence in order, resumed in French. +</p> + +<p> +"The little towns, my friend, where life is not very +gay and people have the time to be interested in the affairs +of their neighbours, have their own crimes, and perhaps +the most pernicious of them all is the crime of anonymous +letters. Suddenly out of a clear sky they will come like +a pestilence, full of vile charges difficult to refute +and—who knows?—sometimes perhaps true. For a while +these abominations flow into the letter-boxes and not a +word is said. If money is demanded, money is paid. If +it is only sheer wickedness which drives that unknown +pen, those who are lashed by it none the less hold their +tongues. But each one begins to suspect his neighbour. +The social life of the town is poisoned. A great canopy +of terror hangs over it, until the postman's knock, a thing +so welcome in the sane life of every day, becomes a thing +to shiver at, and in the end dreadful things happen." +</p> + +<p> +So grave and quiet was the tone which Hanaud used +that Jim himself shivered, even in this room whence he +could see the sunlight sparkling on the river and hear +the pleasant murmur of the Paris streets. Above that +murmur he heard the sharp knock of the postman upon +the door. He saw a white face grow whiter and still +eyes grow haggard with despair. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a plague has descended upon Dijon," Hanaud +continued. "For more than a year it has raged. The +police would not apply to Paris for help. No, they did +not need help, they would solve this pretty problem for +themselves. Yes, but the letters go on and the citizens +complain. The police say, 'Hush! The examining +magistrate, he has a clue. Give him time!' But the +letters still go on. Then after a year comes this godsend +of the Waberski affair. At once the Prefect of Police +and the magistrate put their heads together. 'We will +send for Hanaud over this simple affair, and he will find +for us the author of the anonymous letters. We will +send for him very privately, and if any one recognises +him in the street and cries "There is Hanaud," we can say +he is investigating the Waberski affair. Thus the writer +of the letters will not be alarmed and we—we excuse our +faces.' Yes," concluded Hanaud heatedly, "but they +should have sent for me a year ago. They have lost a +year." +</p> + +<p> +"And during that year the dreadful things have +happened?" asked Jim. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded angrily. +</p> + +<p> +"An old, lonely man who lunches at the hotel and takes +his coffee at the Grande Taverne and does no harm to any +one, he flings himself in front of the Mediterranean +express and is cut to pieces. A pair of lovers shoot +themselves in the Forêt des Moissonières. A young girl comes +home from a ball; she says good night to her friends gaily +on the doorstep of her house, and in the morning she is +found hanging in her ball dress from a rivet in the wall +of her bedroom, whilst in the hearth there are the burnt +fragments of one of these letters. How many had she +received, that poor girl, before this last one drove her to +this madness? Ah, the magistrate. Did I not tell you? +He has need to excuse his face." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud opened a drawer in his desk and took from it +a green cover. +</p> + +<p> +"See, here are two of those precious letters," and +removing two typewritten sheets from the cover he handed +them to Frobisher. "Yes," he added, as he saw the disgust +on the reader's face, "those do not make a nice sauce +for your breakfast, do they?" +</p> + +<p> +"They are abominable," said Jim. "I wouldn't have +believed——" he broke off with a little cry. "One +moment, Monsieur Hanaud!" He bent his head again over +the sheets of paper, comparing them, scrutinising each +sentence. No, there were only the two errors which he +had noticed at once. But what errors they were! To +any one, at all events, with eyes to see and some luck in +the matter of experience. Why, they limited the area of +search at once! +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud, I can give you some more help," +he cried enthusiastically. He did not notice the broad +grin of delight which suddenly transfigured the detective's +face. "Help which may lead you very quickly to the +writer of these letters." +</p> + +<p> +"You can?" Hanaud exclaimed. "Give it to me, my +young friend. Do not keep me shaking in excitement. +And do not—oh! do not tell me that you have discovered +that the letters were typed upon a Corona machine. For +that we know already." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher flushed scarlet. That is just what he +had noticed with so much pride in his perspicuity. Where +the text of a sentence required a capital D, there were +instead the two noughts with the diagonal line separating +them (thus, %), which are the symbol of "per cent."; +and where there should have been a capital S lower down +the page, there was the capital S with the transverse lines +which stands for dollars. Jim was familiar with the +Corona machine himself, and he had remembered that if +one used by error the stop for figures, instead of the stop +for capital letters, those two mistakes would result. He +realised now, with Hanaud's delighted face in front of +him—Hanaud was the urchin now—that the Sûrété was +certain not to have overlooked those two indications even +if the magistrate at Dijon had; and in a moment he began +to laugh too. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I fairly asked for it, didn't I?" he said as he +handed the letter back. "I said a wise thing to you, +Monsieur, when I held it fortunate that we were not to be +on opposite sides." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's face lost its urchin look. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't make too much of me, my friend, lest you be +disappointed," he said in all seriousness. "We are the +servants of Chance, the very best of us. Our skill is to +seize quickly the hem of her skirt, when it flashes for the +fraction of a second before our eyes." +</p> + +<p> +He replaced the two anonymous letters in the green +cover and laid it again in the drawer. Then he gathered +together the two letters which Boris Waberski had +written and gave them back to Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"You will want these to produce at Dijon. You will +go there to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +"This afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" said Hanaud. "I shall take the night express." +</p> + +<p> +"I can wait for that," said Jim. But Hanaud shook +his head. +</p> + +<p> +"It is better that we should not go together, nor stay +at the same hotel. It will very quickly be known in Dijon +that you are the English lawyer of Miss Harlowe, and +those in your company will be marked men too. By the +way, how were you informed in London that I, Hanaud, +had been put in charge of this case?" +</p> + +<p> +"We had a telegram," replied Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes? And from whom? I am curious!" +</p> + +<p> +"From Miss Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Hanaud was for the second time in that +interview quite disconcerted. Of that Jim Frobisher +could have no doubt. He sat for so long a time, his cigarette +half-way to his lips, a man turned into stone. Then +he laughed rather bitterly, with his eyes alertly turned on +Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know what I am doing, Monsieur Frobisher?" +he asked. "I am putting to myself a riddle. +Answer it if you can! What is the strongest passion in +the world? Avarice? Love? Hatred? None of these +things. It is the passion of one public official to take a +great big club and hit his brother official on the back of +the head. It is arranged that I shall go secretly to Dijon +so that I may have some little chance of success. Good! +On Saturday it is so arranged, and already on Monday +my colleagues have so spread the news that Miss Harlowe +can telegraph it to you on Tuesday morning. But that is +kind, eh? May I please see the telegram?" +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher took it from the long envelope and handed it +to Hanaud, who received it with a curious eagerness and +opened it out on the table in front of them. He read it +very slowly, so slowly that Jim wondered whether he too +heard through the lines of the telegram, as through the +receiver of a telephone, the same piteous cry for help +which he himself had heard. Indeed, when Hanaud +raised his face all the bitterness had gone from it. +</p> + +<p> +"The poor little girl, she is afraid now, eh? The +slender fingers, they do not snap themselves any longer, +eh? Well, in a few days we make all right for her." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Jim stoutly. +</p> + +<p> +"Meanwhile I tear this, do I not?" and Hanaud held +up the telegraph form. "It mentions my name. It will +be safe with you, no doubt, but it serves no purpose. +Everything which is torn up here is burnt in the evening. +It is for you to say," and he dangled the telegram before +Jim Frobisher's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"By all means," said Jim, and Hanaud tore the telegram +across. Then he placed the torn pieces together and +tore them through once again and dropped them into his +waste-paper basket. "So! That is done!" he said. +"Now tell me! There is another young English girl in +the Maison Crenelle." +</p> + +<p> +"Ann Upcott," said Jim with a nod. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, tell me about her." +</p> + +<p> +Jim made the same reply to Hanaud which he had made +to Mr. Haslitt. +</p> + +<p> +"I have never seen her in my life. I never heard of her +until yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +But whereas Mr. Haslitt had received the answer with +amazement, Hanaud accepted it without comment. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we shall both make the acquaintance of that +young lady at Dijon," he said with a smile, and he rose +from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher had a feeling that the interview which +had begun badly and moved on to cordiality was turning +back upon itself and ending not too well. He was +conscious of a subtle difference in Hanaud's manner, not a +diminution in his friendliness, but—Jim could find +nothing but Hanaud's own phrase to define the change. He +seemed to have caught the hem of the skirt of Chance as +it flickered for a second within his range of vision. But +when it had flickered Jim could not even conjecture. +</p> + +<p> +He picked up his hat and stick. Hanaud was already +at the door with his hand upon the knob. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Monsieur Frobisher, and I thank you +sincerely for your visit." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall see you in Dijon," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely," Hanaud agreed with a smile. "On many +occasions. In the office, perhaps, of the examining +magistrate. No doubt in the Maison Crenelle." +</p> + +<p> +But Jim was not satisfied. It was a real collaboration +which Hanaud had appeared a few minutes ago not +merely to accept, but even to look forward to. Now, on +the contrary, he was evading it. +</p> + +<p> +"But if we are to work together?" Jim suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"You might want to reach me quickly," Hanaud +continued. "Yes. And I might want to reach you, if not +so quickly, still very secretly. Yes." He turned the +question over in his mind. "You will stay at the Maison +Crenelle, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Jim, and he drew a little comfort from +Hanaud's little start of disappointment. "There will be +no need for that," he explained. "Boris Waberski can +attempt nothing more. Those two girls will be safe +enough." +</p> + +<p> +"That's true," Hanaud agreed. "You will go, then, +to the big hotel in the Place Darcy. For me I shall stay +in one that is more obscure, and not under my own name. +Whatever chance of secrecy is still left for me, that I +shall cling to." +</p> + +<p> +He did not volunteer the name of the obscure hotel or +the name under which he proposed to masquerade, and +Jim was careful not to inquire. Hanaud stood with his +hand upon the knob of the door and his eyes thoughtfully +resting upon Frobisher's face. +</p> + +<p> +"I will trust you with a little trick of mine," he said, +and a smile warmed and lit his face to good humour. +"Do you like the pictures? No—yes? For me, I adore +them. Wherever I go I snatch an hour for the cinema. +I behold wonderful things and I behold them in the +dark—so that while I watch I can talk quietly with a +friend, and when the lights go up we are both gone, and +only our empty bocks are left to show where we were +sitting. The cinemas—yes! With their audiences which +constantly change and new people coming in who sit +plump down upon your lap because they cannot see an +inch beyond their noses, the cinemas are useful, I tell +you. But you will not betray my little secret?" +</p> + +<p> +He ended with a laugh. Jim Frobisher's spirits were +quite revived by this renewal of Hanaud's confidence. He +felt with a curious elation that he had travelled a long +way from the sedate dignities of Russell Square. He +could not project in his mind any picture of +Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt meeting a client in a dark corner +of a cinema theatre off the Marylebone Road. Such +manoeuvres were not amongst the firm's methods, and Jim +began to find the change exhilarating. Perhaps, after +all, Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt were a little musty, he +reflected. They missed—and he coined a phrase, he, Jim +Frobisher! ... they missed the ozone of police-work. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I'll keep your secret," he said with a thrill +in his voice. "I should never have thought of so capital +a meeting-place." +</p> + +<p> +"Good," said Hanaud. "Then at nine o'clock each +night, unless there is something serious to prevent me, I +shall be sitting in the big hall of the Grande Taverne. +The Grande Taverne is at the corner across the square +from the railway station. You can't mistake it. I shall +be on the left-hand side of the hall and close up to the +screen and at the edge near the billiard-room. Don't look +for me when the lights are raised, and if I am talking to +any one else, you will avoid me like poison. Is that +understood?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite," Jim returned. +</p> + +<p> +"And you have now two secrets of mine to keep." Hanaud's +face lost its smile. In some strange way it +seemed to sharpen, the light-coloured eyes became very +still and grave. "That also is understood, Monsieur +Frobisher," he said. "For I begin to think that we may both +of us see strange things before we leave Dijon again for +Paris." +</p> + +<p> +The moment of gravity passed. With a bow he held +open the door. But Jim Frobisher, as he passed out into +the corridor, was once again convinced that at some +definite point in the interview Hanaud had at all events +caught a glimpse of the flickering skirts of Chance, even +if he had not grasped them in his hands. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER FOUR: <i>Betty Harlowe</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher reached Dijon that night at an hour +too late for any visit, but at half-past nine on the next +morning he turned with a thrill of excitement into the +little street of Charles-Robert. This street was bordered +upon one side, throughout its length, by a high garden +wall above which great sycamores and chestnut trees +rustled friendlily in a stir of wind. Towards the farther +mouth of the street the wall was broken, first by the end of +a house with a florid observation-window of the +Renaissance period which overhung the footway; and again a +little farther on by a pair of elaborate tall iron gates. +Before these gates Jim came to a standstill. He gazed into +the courtyard of the Maison Crenelle, and as he gazed +his excitement died away and he felt a trifle ashamed of +it. There seemed so little cause for excitement. +</p> + +<p> +It was a hot, quiet, cloudless morning. On the left-hand +side of the court women-servants were busy in front +of a row of offices; at the end Jim caught glimpses of a +chauffeur moving between a couple of cars in a garage, +and heard him whistling gaily as he moved; on the right +stretched the big house, its steep slate roof marked out +gaily with huge diamond patterns of bright yellow, taking +in the sunlight through all its open windows. The hall +door under the horizontal glass fan stood open. One +of the iron gates, too, was ajar. Even the <i>sergent-de-ville</i> +in his white trousers out in the small street here seemed +to be sheltering from the sun in the shadow of the high +wall rather than exercising any real vigilance. It was +impossible to believe, with all this pleasant evidence of +normal life, that any threat was on that house or upon +any of its inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +"And indeed there is no threat," Jim reflected. "I +have Hanaud's word for it." +</p> + +<p> +He pushed the gate open and crossed to the front door. +An old serving-man informed him that Mademoiselle +Harlowe did not receive, but he took Jim's card nevertheless, +and knocked upon a door on the right of the big +square hall. As he knocked, he opened the door; and +from his position in the hall Jim looked right through a +library to a window at the end and saw two figures +silhouetted against the window, a man and a girl. The man +was protesting, rather extravagantly both in word and +gesture, to Jim's Britannic mind, the girl laughing—a +clear, ringing laugh, with just a touch of cruelty, at the +man's protestations. Jim even caught a word or two of +the protest spoken in French, but with a curiously metallic +accent. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been your slave too long," the man cried, and +the girl became aware that the door was open and that +the old man stood inside of it with a card upon a silver +salver. She came quickly forward and took the card. +Jim heard the cry of pleasure, and the girl came running +out into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"You!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "I had no +right to expect you so soon. Oh, thank you!" and she +gave him both her hands. +</p> + +<p> +Jim did not need her words to recognise in her the +"little girl" of Mr. Haslitt's description. Little in actual +height Betty Harlowe certainly was not, but she was such +a slender trifle of a girl that the epithet seemed in place. +Her hair was dark brown in colour, with a hint of copper +where the light caught it, parted on one side and very +neatly dressed about her small head. The broad forehead +and oval face were of a clear pallor and made vivid +the fresh scarlet of her lips; and the large pupils of her +grey eyes gave to her a look which was at once haunting +and wistful. As she held out her hands in a warm +gratitude and seized his, she seemed to him a creature of +delicate flame and fragile as fair china. She looked him +over with one swift comprehensive glance and breathed +a little sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall give you all my troubles to carry from now +on," she said, with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure. That's what I am here for," he +answered. "But don't take me for anything very choice +and particular." +</p> + +<p> +Betty laughed again and, holding him by the sleeve, +drew him into the library. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Espinosa," she said, presenting the stranger +to Jim. "He is from Cataluna, but he spends so much +of his life in Dijon that we claim him as a citizen." +</p> + +<p> +The Catalan bowed and showed a fine set of strong +white teeth. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I have the honour to represent a great Spanish +firm of wine-growers. We buy the wines here to mix +with our better brands, and we sell wine here to mix with +their cheaper ones." +</p> + +<p> +"You mustn't give your trade secrets away to me," Jim +replied shortly. He disliked Espinosa on sight, as they +say, and he was at no very great pains to conceal his +dislike. Espinosa was altogether too brilliant a personage. +He was a big, broad-shouldered man with black shining +hair and black shining eyes, a florid complexion, a curled +moustache, and gleaming rings upon his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Frobisher has come from London to see me on +quite different business," Betty interposed. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" said the Catalan a little defiantly, as though he +meant to hold his ground. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," replied Betty, and she held out her hand to him. +Espinosa raised it reluctantly to his lips and kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall see you when you return," said Betty, and she +walked to the door. +</p> + +<p> +"If I go away," Espinosa replied stubbornly. "It is not +certain, Mademoiselle Betty, that I shall go"; and with +a ceremonious bow to Jim he walked out of the room; +but not so quickly but that Betty glanced swiftly from +one man to the other with keen comparing eyes, and Jim +detected the glance. She closed the door and turned back +to Jim with a friendly little grimace which somehow put +him in a good humour. He was being compared to another +man to his advantage, and however modest one may +be, such a comparison promotes a pleasant warmth. +</p> + +<p> +"More trouble, Miss Harlowe," he said with a smile, +"but this time the sort of trouble which you must expect +for a good many years to come." +</p> + +<p> +He moved towards her, and they met at one of the two +side windows which looked out upon the courtyard. +Betty sat down in the window-seat. +</p> + +<p> +"I really ought to be grateful to him," she said, "for +he made me laugh. And it seems to me ages since I +laughed"; she looked out of the window and her eyes +suddenly filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! don't, please," cried Jim in a voice of trouble. +</p> + +<p> +The smile trembled once more on Betty's lips deliciously. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't," she replied. +</p> + +<p> +"I was so glad to hear you laugh," he continued, "after +your unhappy telegram to my partner and before I told +you my good news." +</p> + +<p> +Betty looked up at him eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good news?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher took once more from his long envelope +the two letters which Waberski had sent to his firm and +handed them to Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Read them," he said, "and notice the dates." +</p> + +<p> +Betty glanced at the handwriting. +</p> + +<p> +"From Monsieur Boris," she cried, and she settled +down in the window-seat to study them. In her short +black frock with her slim legs in their black silk stockings +extended and her feet crossed, and her head and white +neck bent over the sheets of Waberski's letters, she looked +to Jim like a girl fresh from school. She was quick +enough, however, to appreciate the value of the letters. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I always knew that it was money that +Monsieur Boris wanted," she said. "And when my +aunt's will was read and I found that everything had +been left to me, I made up my mind to consult you and +make some arrangement for him." +</p> + +<p> +"There was no obligation upon you," Jim protested. +"He wasn't really a relation at all. He married +Mrs. Harlowe's sister, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +"I know," replied Betty, and she laughed. "He always +objected to me because I would call him 'Monsieur +Boris' instead of 'uncle.' But I meant to do something +nevertheless. Only he gave me no time. He bullied me +first of all, and I do hate being bullied—don't you, +Mr. Frobisher?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do." +</p> + +<p> +Betty looked at the letters again. +</p> + +<p> +"That's when I snapped me the fingers at him, I suppose," +she continued, with a little gurgle of delight in the +phrase. "Afterwards he brought this horrible charge +against me, and to have suggested any arrangement would +have been to plead guilty." +</p> + +<p> +"You were quite right. It would indeed," Jim agreed +cordially. +</p> + +<p> +Up to this moment, a suspicion had been lurking at the +back of Jim Frobisher's mind that this girl had been a +trifle hard in her treatment of Boris Waberski. He was +a sponger, a wastrel, with no real claim upon her, it was +true. On the other hand, he had no means of livelihood, +and Mrs. Harlowe, from whom Betty drew her fortune, +had been content to endure and support him. Now, however, +the suspicion was laid, the little blemish upon the +girl removed and by her own frankness. +</p> + +<p> +"Then it is all over," Betty said, handing back the +letters to Jim with a sigh of relief. Then she smiled +ruefully—"But just for a little while I was really +frightened," she confessed. "You see, I was sent for and +questioned by the examining magistrate. Oh! I wasn't +frightened by the questions, but by him, the man. I've +no doubt it's his business to look severe, but I couldn't +help thinking that if any one looked as terrifically severe +as he did, it must be because he hadn't any brains and +wanted you not to know. And people without brains are +always dangerous, aren't they?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that wasn't encouraging," Jim agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"Then he forbade me to use a motor-car, as if he +expected me to run away. And to crown everything, when +I came away from the Palais de Justice, I met some +friends outside who gave me a long list of people who +had been condemned and only found to be innocent when +it was too late." +</p> + +<p> +Jim stared at her. +</p> + +<p> +"The brutes!" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we have all got friends like that," Betty returned +philosophically. "Mine, however, were particularly +odious. For they actually discussed, as a reason of +course, why I should engage the very best advocate, +whether, since Mrs. Harlowe had adopted me, the charge +couldn't be made one of matricide. In which case there +could be no pardon, and I must go to the guillotine with +a black veil over my head and naked feet." She saw +horror and indignation in Jim Frobisher's face and she +reached out a hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Malice in the provinces is apt to be a little blunt, +though"—and she lifted a slim foot in a shining slipper +and contemplated it whimsically—"I don't imagine that, +given the circumstances, I should be bothering my head +much as to whether I was wearing my best shoes and +stockings or none at all." +</p> + +<p> +"I never heard of so abominable a suggestion," cried Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"You can imagine, at all events, that I came home a +little rattled," continued Betty, "and why I sent off that +silly panicky telegram. I would have recalled it when I +rose to the surface again. But it was then too late. The +telegram had——" +</p> + +<p> +She broke off abruptly with a little rise of inflexion and +a sharp indraw of her breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is that?" she asked in a changed voice. She +had been speaking quietly and slowly, with an almost +humorous appreciation of the causes of her fear. Now +her question was uttered quickly and anxiety was +predominant in her voice. "Yes, who is that?" she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +A big, heavily built man sauntering past the great iron +gates had suddenly whipped into the courtyard. A +fraction of a second before he was an idler strolling along +the path, now he was already disappearing under the big +glass fan of the porch. +</p> + +<p> +"It's Hanaud," Jim replied, and Betty rose to her feet +as though a spring in her had been released, and stood +swaying. +</p> + +<p> +"You have nothing to fear from Hanaud," Jim Frobisher +reassured her. "I have shown him those two letters +of Waberski. From first to last he is your friend. +Listen. This is what he said to me only yesterday in +Paris." +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday, in Paris?" Betty asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I called upon him at the Sûrété. These were +his words. I remembered them particularly so that I +could repeat them to you just as they were spoken. 'Your +little client can lay her pretty head upon her pillow +confident that no injustice will be done to her.'" +</p> + +<p> +The bell of the front door shrilled through the house +as Jim finished. +</p> + +<p> +"Then why is he in Dijon? Why is he at the door +now?" Betty asked stubbornly. +</p> + +<p> +But that was the one question which Jim must not +answer. He had received a confidence from Hanaud. +He had pledged his word not to betray it. For a little +while longer Betty must believe that Waberski's accusation +against her was the true reason of Hanaud's presence +in Dijon, and not merely an excuse for it. +</p> + +<p> +"Hanaud acts under orders," Jim returned. "He is +here because he was bidden to come"; and to his relief +the answer sufficed. In truth, Betty's thoughts were +diverted to some problem to which he had not the key. +</p> + +<p> +"So you called upon Monsieur Hanaud in Paris," she +said, with a warm smile. "You have forgotten nothing +which could help me." She laid a hand upon the sill of +the open window. "I hope that he felt all the flattery +of my panic-stricken telegram to London." +</p> + +<p> +"He was simply regretful that you should have been +so distressed." +</p> + +<p> +"So you showed him the telegram?" +</p> + +<p> +"And he destroyed it. It was my excuse for calling +upon him with the letters." +</p> + +<p> +Betty sat down again on the window-seat and lifted a +finger for silence. Outside the door voices were speaking. +Then the door was opened and the old man-servant entered. +He carried this time no card upon a salver, but +he was obviously impressed and a trifle flustered. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle," he began, and Betty interrupted him. +All trace of anxiety had gone from her manner. She +was once more mistress of herself. +</p> + +<p> +"I know, Gaston. Show Monsieur Hanaud in at once." +</p> + +<p> +But Monsieur Hanaud was already in. He bowed +with a pleasant ceremony to Betty Harlowe and shook +hands cordially with Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"I was delighted as I came through the court, Mademoiselle, +to see that my friend here was already with you. +For he will have told you that I am not, after all, the ogre +of the fairy-books." +</p> + +<p> +"But you never looked up at the windows once," cried +Betty in perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled gaily. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, it is in the technique of my trade never +to look up at windows and yet to know what is going on +behind them. With your permission?" And he laid his +hat and cane upon a big writing-table in the middle of the +room. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER FIVE: <i>Betty Harlowe Answers</i> +</h3> + +<p> +"But we cannot see even through the widest of +windows," Hanaud continued, "what happened behind +them a fortnight ago. In those cases, Mademoiselle, we +have to make ourselves the nuisance and ask the questions." +</p> + +<p> +"I am ready to answer you," returned Betty quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, of that—not a doubt," Hanaud cried genially. +"Is it permitted to me to seat myself? Yes?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty jumped up, the pallor of her face flushed to pink. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon. Of course, Monsieur Hanaud." +</p> + +<p> +That little omission in her manners alone showed Jim +Frobisher that she was nervous. But for it, he would +have credited her with a self-command almost unnatural +in her years. +</p> + +<p> +"It is nothing," said Hanaud with a smile. "After all, +we are—the gentlest of us—disturbing guests." He took +a chair from the side of the table and drew it up close so +that he faced Betty. But whatever advantage was to be +gained from the positions he yielded to her. For the +light from the window fell in all its morning strength +upon his face, whilst hers was turned to the interior of +the room. +</p> + +<p> +"So!" he said as he sat down. "Mademoiselle, I will +first give you a plan of our simple procedure, as at present +I see it. The body of Madame Harlowe was exhumed +the night before last in the presence of your notary." +</p> + +<p> +Betty moved suddenly with a little shiver of revolt. +</p> + +<p> +"I know," he continued quickly. "These necessities +are distressing. But we do Madame Harlowe no hurt, +and we have to think of the living one, you, Miss Betty +Harlowe, and make sure that no suspicion shall rest upon +you—no, not even amongst your most loyal friends. +Isn't that so? Well, next, I put my questions to you +here. Then we wait for the analyst's report. Then the +Examining Magistrate will no doubt make you his +compliments, and I, Hanaud, will, if I am lucky, carry back +with me to that dull Paris, a signed portrait of the +beautiful Miss Harlowe against my heart." +</p> + +<p> +"And that will be all?" cried Betty, clasping her hands +together in her gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +"For you, Mademoiselle, yes. But for our little +Boris—no!" Hanaud grinned with a mischievous anticipation. +"I look forward to half an hour with that broken-kneed +one. I shall talk to him and I shall not be dignified—no, +not at all. I shall take care, too, that my good friend +Monsieur Frobisher is not present. He would take from +me all my enjoyment. He would look at me all prim like +my maiden aunt and he would say to himself, 'Shocking! +Oh, that comic! What a fellow! He is not proper.' No, +and I shall not be proper. But, on the other hand, I +will laugh all the way from Dijon to Paris." +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Hanaud had indeed begun to laugh already +and Betty suddenly joined in with him. Hers was a +clear, ringing laugh of enjoyment, and Jim fancied +himself once more in the hall hearing that laughter come +pealing through the open door. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, that is good!" exclaimed Hanaud. "You can +laugh, Mademoiselle, even at my foolishnesses. You must +keep Monsieur Frobisher here in Dijon and not let him +return to London until he too has learnt that divinest of +the arts." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud hitched his chair a little nearer, and a most +uncomfortable image sprang at once into Jim Frobisher's +mind. Just so, with light words and little jokes squeezed +out to tenuity, did doctors hitch up their chairs to the +bedsides of patients in a dangerous case. It took quite a +few minutes of Hanaud's questions before that image +entirely vanished from his thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" said Hanaud. "Now let us to business and +get the facts all clear and ordered!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Jim agreed, and he too hitched his chair a little +closer. It was curious, he reflected, how little he did +know of the actual facts of the case. +</p> + +<p> +"Now tell me, Mademoiselle! Madame Harlowe died, +so far as we know, quite peacefully in her bed during the +night." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," replied Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"During the night of April the 27th?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"She slept alone in her room that night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"That was her rule?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"I understand Madame Harlowe's heart had given her +trouble for some time." +</p> + +<p> +"She had been an invalid for three years." +</p> + +<p> +"And there was a trained nurse always in the house?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Now tell me, Mademoiselle, where did this nurse +sleep? Next door to Madame?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. A bedroom had been fitted up for her on the +same floor but at the end of the passage." +</p> + +<p> +"And how far away was this bedroom?" +</p> + +<p> +"There were two rooms separating it from my aunt's." +</p> + +<p> +"Large rooms?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Betty explained. "These rooms are on the +ground-floor, and are what you would call reception-rooms. +But, since Madame's heart made the stairs dangerous +for her, some of them were fitted up especially for +her use." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see," said Hanaud. "Two big reception-rooms +between, eh? And the walls of the house are thick. It is +not difficult to see that it was not built in these days. I +ask you this, Mademoiselle. Would a cry from Madame +Harlowe at night, when all the house was silent, be heard +in the nurse's room?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am very sure that it would not," Betty returned. +"But there was a bell by Madame's bed which rang in +the nurse's room. She had hardly to lift her arm to press +the button." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" said Hanaud. "A bell specially fitted up?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And the button within reach of the fingers. Yes. +That is all very well, if one does not faint, Mademoiselle. +But suppose one does! Then the bell is not very useful. +Was there no room nearer which could have been set +aside for the nurse?" +</p> + +<p> +"There was one next to my aunt's room, Monsieur +Hanaud, with a communicating door." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was puzzled and sat back in his chair. Jim +Frobisher thought the time had come for him to interpose. +He had been growing more and more restless as the +catechism progressed. He could not see any reason why +Betty, however readily and easily she answered, should +be needlessly pestered. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely, Monsieur Hanaud," he said, "it would save a +deal of time if we paid a visit to these rooms and saw +them for ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud swung round like a thing on a swivel. Admiration +beamed in his eyes. He gazed at his junior colleague +in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +"But what an idea!" he cried enthusiastically. "What +a fine idea! How ingenious! How difficult to conceive! +And it is you, Monsieur Frobisher, who have thought of +it! I make you my distinguished compliments!" Then +all his enthusiasm declined into lassitude. "But what a +pity!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud waited intently for Jim to ask for an explanation +of that sigh, but Jim simply got red in the face and +refused to oblige. He had obviously made an asinine +suggestion and was being rallied for it in front of the +beautiful Betty Harlowe, who looked to him for her +salvation; and on the whole he thought Hanaud to be a rather +insufferable person as he sat there brightly watching for +some second inanity. Hanaud in the end had to explain. +</p> + +<p> +"We should have visited those rooms before now, +Monsieur Frobisher. But the Commissaire of Police has +sealed them up and without his presence we must not +break the seals." +</p> + +<p> +An almost imperceptible movement was made by Betty +Harlowe in the window; an almost imperceptible smile +flickered for the space of a lightning-flash upon her lips; +and Jim saw Hanaud stiffen like a watch-dog when he +hears a sound at night. +</p> + +<p> +"You are amused, Mademoiselle?" he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +And the smile reappeared upon her face and was seen +to be what it was, pure wistfulness. "I had a hope those +great seals with their linen bands across the doors were +all now to be removed. It is fanciful, no doubt, but I +have a horror of them. They seem to me like an interdict +upon the house." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's manner changed in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"That I can very well understand, Mademoiselle," he +said, "and I will make it my business to see that those +seals are broken. Indeed, there was no great use in +affixing them, since they were only affixed when the charge +was brought and ten days after Madame Harlowe died." He +turned to Jim. "But we in France are all tied up in +red tape, too. However, the question at which I am +driving does not depend upon any aspect of the rooms. It +is this, Mademoiselle," and he turned back to Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Madame Harlowe was an invalid with a nurse in constant +attendance. How is it that the nurse did not sleep +in that suitable room with the communicating-door? +Why must she be where she could hear no cry, no sudden +call?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty nodded her head. Here was a question which +demanded an answer. She leaned forward, choosing her +words with care. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but for that, Monsieur, you must understand +something of Madame my aunt and put yourself for a +moment in her place. She would have it so. She was, as +you say, an invalid. For three years she had not gone +beyond the garden except in a private saloon once a year +to Monte Carlo. But she would not admit her malady. +No, she was in her mind strong and a fighter. She was +going to get well, it was always a question of a few weeks +with her, and a nurse in her uniform always near with +the door open, as though she were in the last stages of +illness—that distressed her." Betty paused and went on +again. "Of course, when she had some critical attack, +the nurse was moved. I myself gave the order. But as +soon as the attack subsided, the nurse must go. Madame +would not endure it." +</p> + +<p> +Jim understood that speech. Its very sincerity gave +him a glimpse of the dead woman, made him appreciate +her tough vitality. She would not give in. She did not +want the paraphernalia of malady always about her. No, +she would sleep in her own room, and by herself, like +other women of her age. Yes, Jim understood that and +believed every word that Betty spoke. Only—only—she +was keeping something back. It was that which troubled +him. What she said was true, but there was more to be +said. There had been hesitation in Betty's speech, too +nice a choice of words and then suddenly a little rush of +phrases to cover up the hesitations. He looked at +Hanaud, who was sitting without a movement and with his +eyes fixed upon Betty's face, demanding more from her +by his very impassivity. They were both, Jim felt sure, +upon the edge of that little secret which, according to +Haslitt as to Hanaud was always at the back of such wild +charges as Waberski brought—the little shameful family +secret which must be buried deep from the world's eyes. +And while Jim was pondering upon this explanation of +Betty's manner, he was suddenly startled out of his wits +by a passionate cry which broke from her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you look at me like that?" she cried to Hanaud, +her eyes suddenly ablaze in her white face and her +lips shaking. Her voice rose to a challenge. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you disbelieve me, Monsieur Hanaud?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud raised his hands in protest. He leaned back +in his chair. The vigilance of his eyes, of his whole +attitude, was relaxed. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle," he said with a +good deal of self-reproach. "I do not disbelieve you. I +was listening with both my ears to what you said, so that +I might never again have to trouble you with my +questions. But I should have remembered, what I forgot, +that for a number of days you have been living under a +heavy strain. My manner was at fault." +</p> + +<p> +The small tornado of passion passed. Betty sank back +in the corner of the window-seat, her head resting against +the side of the sash and her face a little upturned. +</p> + +<p> +"You are really very considerate, Monsieur Hanaud," +she returned. "It is I who should beg your pardon. For +I was behaving like a hysterical schoolgirl. Will you go +on with your questions?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Hanaud replied gently. "It is better that we +finish with them now. Let us come back to the night of +the twenty-seventh!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"Madame was in her usual health that night—neither +better nor worse." +</p> + +<p> +"If anything a little better," returned Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"So that you did not hesitate to go on that evening to a +dance given by some friends of yours?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim started. So Betty was actually out of the house +on that fatal night. Here was a new point in her favour. +"A dance!" he cried, and Hanaud lifted his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, Monsieur Frobisher!" he said. "Let +Mademoiselle speak!" +</p> + +<p> +"I did not hesitate," Betty explained. "The life of the +household had to go on normally. It would never have +done for me to do unusual things. Madame was quick +to notice. I think that although she would not admit +that she was dangerously ill, at the bottom of her mind +she suspected that she was; and one had to be careful not +to alarm her." +</p> + +<p> +"By such acts, for instance, as staying away from a +dance to which she knew that you had meant to go?" said +Hanaud. "Yes, Mademoiselle. I quite understand that." +</p> + +<p> +He cocked his head at Jim Frobisher, and added with +a smile, "Ah, you did not know that, Monsieur Frobisher. +No, nor our friend Boris Waberski, I think. Or +he would hardly have rushed to the Prefect of Police in +such a hurry. Yes, Mademoiselle was dancing with her +friends on this night when she is supposed to be +committing the most monstrous of crimes. By the way, +Mademoiselle, where was Boris Waberski on the night of the +27th?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was away," returned Betty. "He went away on +the 25th to fish for trout at a village on the River Ouche, +and he did not come back until the morning of the 28th." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly," said Hanaud. "What a type that fellow! +Let us hope he had a better landing-net for his trout than +the one he prepared so hastily for Mademoiselle Harlowe. +Otherwise his three days' sport cannot have amounted to +much." +</p> + +<p> +His laugh and his words called up a faint smile upon +Betty's face and then he swept back to his questions. +</p> + +<p> +"So you went to a dance, Mademoiselle. Where?" +</p> + +<p> +"At the house of Monsieur de Pouillac on the +Boulevard Thiers." +</p> + +<p> +"And at what hour did you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"I left this house at five minutes to nine." +</p> + +<p> +"You are sure of the hour?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite," said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you see Madame Harlowe before you went?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Betty answered. "I went to her room just before +I left. She took her dinner in bed, as she often did. +I was wearing for the dance a new frock which I had +bought this winter at Monte Carlo, and I went to her +room to show her how I looked in it." +</p> + +<p> +"Was Madame alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; the nurse was with her." +</p> + +<p> +And upon that Hanaud smiled with a great appearance +of cunning. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew that, Mademoiselle," he declared with a +friendly grin. "See, I set a little trap for you. For I +have here the evidence of the nurse herself, Jeanne +Baudin." +</p> + +<p> +He took out from his pocket a sheet of paper upon +which a paragraph was typed. "Yes, the examining +magistrate sent for her and took her statement." +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't know that," said Betty. "Jeanne left us the +day of the funeral and went home. I have not seen her +since." +</p> + +<p> +She nodded at Hanaud once or twice with a little smile +of appreciation. +</p> + +<p> +"I would not like to be a person with a secret to hide +from you, Monsieur Hanaud," she said admiringly. "I +do not think that I should be able to hide it for long." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud expanded under the flattery like a novice, and, +to Jim Frobisher's thinking, rather like a very vulgar +novice. +</p> + +<p> +"You are wise, Mademoiselle," he exclaimed. "For, +after all, I am Hanaud. There is only one," and he +thumped his chest and beamed delightedly. "Heavens, +these are politenesses! Let us get on. This is what the +nurse declared," and he read aloud from his sheet of +paper: +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle came to the bedroom, so that Madame +might admire her in her new frock of silver tissue and +her silver slippers. Mademoiselle arranged the pillows +and saw that Madame had her favourite books and her +drink beside the bed. Then she wished her good night, +and with her pretty frock rustling and gleaming, she +tripped out of the room. As soon as the door was closed, +Madame said to me——" and Hanaud broke off abruptly. +"But that does not matter," he said in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly and sharply Betty leaned forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Does it not, Monsieur?" she asked, her eyes fixed +upon his face, and the blood mounting slowly into her +pale cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Hanaud, and he began to fold the sheet +of paper. +</p> + +<p> +"What does the nurse report that Madame said to her +about me, as soon as the door was closed?" Betty asked, +measuring out her words with a slow insistence. "Come, +Monsieur! I have a right to know," and she held out +her hand for the paper. +</p> + +<p> +"You shall judge for yourself that it was of no +importance," said Hanaud. "Listen!" and once more he +read. +</p> + +<p> +"Madame said to me, looking at her clock, 'It is well +that Mademoiselle has gone early. For Dijon is not +Paris, and unless you go in time there are no partners +for you to dance with.' It was then ten minutes to nine." +</p> + +<p> +With a smile Hanaud gave the paper into Betty's hand; +and she bent her head over it swiftly, as though she +doubted whether what he had recited was really written +on that sheet, as if she rather trembled to think what +Mrs. Harlowe had said of her after she had gone from +the room. She took only a second or two to glance over +the page, but when she handed it back to him, her manner +was quite changed. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," she said with a note of bitterness, and +her deep eyes gleamed with resentment. Jim understood +the change and sympathised with it. Hanaud had spoken +of setting a trap when he had set none. For there was no +conceivable reason why she should hesitate to admit that +she had seen Mrs. Harlowe in the presence of the nurse, +and wished her good night before she went to the party. +But he had set a real trap a minute afterwards and into +that Betty had straightway stumbled. He had tricked +her into admitting a dread that Mrs. Harlowe might have +spoken of her in disparagement or even in horror after +she had left the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +"You must know, Monsieur Hanaud," she explained +very coldly, "that women are not always very generous +to one another, and sometimes have not the imagination—how +shall I put it?—to visualise the possible consequences +of things they may say with merely the intention +to hurt and do a little harm. Jeanne Baudin and I +were, so far as I ever knew, good friends, but one is never +sure, and when you folded up her statement in a hurry I +was naturally very anxious to hear the rest of it." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I agree," Jim intervened. "It did look as if the +nurse might have added something malevolent, which +could neither be proved nor disproved." +</p> + +<p> +"It was a misunderstanding, Mademoiselle," Hanaud +replied in a voice of apology. "We will take care that +there shall not be any other." He looked over the nurse's +statement again. +</p> + +<p> +"It is said here that you saw that Madame had her +favourite books and her drink beside the bed. That is +true." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"What was that drink?" +</p> + +<p> +"A glass of lemonade." +</p> + +<p> +"It was placed on a table, I suppose, ready for her every +night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Every night." +</p> + +<p> +"And there was no narcotic dissolved in it?" +</p> + +<p> +"None," Betty replied. "If Mrs. Harlowe was restless, +the nurse would give an opium pill and very +occasionally a slight injection of morphia." +</p> + +<p> +"But that was not done on this night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not to my knowledge. If it was done, it was done +after my departure." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," said Hanaud, and he folded the paper +and put it away in his pocket. "That is finished with. +We have you now out of the house at five minutes to nine +in the evening, and Madame in her bed with her health +no worse than usual." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" Hanaud changed his attitude. "Now let us +go over your evening, Mademoiselle! I take it that you +stayed at the house of M. de Pouillac until you returned +home." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"You remember with whom you danced? If it was +necessary, could you give me a list of your partners?" +</p> + +<p> +She rose and, crossing to the writing table, sat down +in front of it. She drew a sheet of paper towards her and +took up a pencil. Pausing now and again to jog her +memory with the blunt end of the pencil at her lips, she +wrote down a list of names. +</p> + +<p> +"These are all, I think," she said, handing the list to +Hanaud. He put it in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you!" He was all contentment now. Although +his questions followed without hesitation, one +upon the other, it seemed to Jim that he was receiving +just the answers which he expected. He had the air of +a man engaged upon an inevitable formality and anxious +to get it completely accomplished, rather than of one +pressing keenly a strict investigation. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Mademoiselle, at what hour did you arrive home?" +</p> + +<p> +"At twenty minutes past one." +</p> + +<p> +"You are sure of that exact time? You looked at your +watch? Or at the clock in the hall? Or what? How are +you sure that you reached the Maison Crenelle exactly at +twenty minutes past one?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud hitched his chair a little more forward, but +he had not to wait a second for the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no clock in the hall and I had no watch with +me," Betty replied. "I don't like those wrist-watches +which some girls wear. I hate things round my wrists," +and she shook her arm impatiently, as though she imagined +the constriction of a bracelet. "And I did not put +my watch in my hand-bag because I am so liable to leave +that behind. So I had nothing to tell me the time when I +reached home. I was not sure that I had not kept Georges—the +chauffeur—out a little later than he cared for. So +I made him my excuse, explaining that I didn't really +know how late I was." +</p> + +<p> +"I see. It was Georges who told you the time at the +actual moment of your arrival?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And Georges is no doubt the chauffeur whom I saw +at work as I crossed the courtyard?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He told me that he was glad to see me have a +little gaiety, and he took out his watch and showed it to +me with a laugh." +</p> + +<p> +"This happened at the front door, or at those big iron +gates, Mademoiselle?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"At the front door. There is no lodge-keeper and the +gates are left open when any one is out." +</p> + +<p> +"And how did you get into the house?" +</p> + +<p> +"I used my latch-key." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! All this is very clear." +</p> + +<p> +Betty, however, was not mollified by Hanaud's +satisfaction with her replies. Although she answered him +without delay, her answers were given mutinously. Jim +began to be a little troubled. She should have met +Hanaud half-way; she was imprudently petulant. +</p> + +<p> +"She'll make an enemy of this man before she has +done," he reflected uneasily. But he glanced at the +detective and was relieved. For Hanaud was watching her +with a smile which would have disarmed any less offended +young lady—a smile half friendliness and half amusement. +Jim took a turn upon himself. +</p> + +<p> +"After all," he argued, "this very imprudence pleads +for her better than any calculation. The guilty don't +behave like that." And he waited for the next stage in the +examination with an easy mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Now we have got you back home and within the +Maison Crenelle before half past one in the morning," +resumed Hanaud. "What did you do then?" +</p> + +<p> +"I went straight upstairs to my bedroom," said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Was your maid waiting up for you, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; I had told her that I should be late and that I +could undress myself." +</p> + +<p> +"You are considerate, Mademoiselle. No wonder that +your servants were pleased that you should have a little +gaiety." +</p> + +<p> +Even that advance did not appease the offended girl. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" she asked with a sort of silky sweetness which +was more hostile than any acid rejoinder. But it did +not stir Hanaud to any resentment. +</p> + +<p> +"When, then, did you first hear of Madame Harlowe's +death?" was asked. +</p> + +<p> +"The next morning my maid Francine came running +into my room at seven o'clock. The nurse Jeanne had +just discovered it. I slipped on my dressing-gown and +ran downstairs. As soon as I saw that it was true, I rang +up the two doctors who were in the habit of attending +here." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you notice the glass of lemonade?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It was empty." +</p> + +<p> +"Your maid is still with you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—Francine Rollard. She is at your disposal." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders and smiled doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"That, if it is necessary at all, can come later. We +have the story of your movements now from you, +Mademoiselle, and that is what is important." +</p> + +<p> +He rose from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been, I am afraid, a very troublesome person, +Mademoiselle Harlowe," he said with a bow. "But it is +very necessary for your own sake that no obscurities +should be left for the world's suspicions to play with. +And we are very close to the end of this ordeal." +</p> + +<p> +Jim had nursed a hope the moment Hanaud rose that +this wearing interview had already ended. Betty, for her +part, was indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +"That is for you to say, Monsieur," she said implacably. +</p> + +<p> +"Just two points then, and I think, upon reflection, +you will understand that I have asked you no question +which is unfair." +</p> + +<p> +Betty bowed. +</p> + +<p> +"Your two points, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"First, then. You inherit, I believe, the whole fortune +of Madame?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you expect to inherit it all? Did you know of her +will?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I expected that a good deal of the money would +be left to Monsieur Boris. But I don't remember that she +ever told me so. I expected it, because Monsieur Boris +so continually repeated that it was so." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt," said Hanaud lightly. "As to yourself, +was Madame generous to you during her life." +</p> + +<p> +The hard look disappeared from Betty's face. It +softened to sorrow and regret. +</p> + +<p> +"Very," she answered in a low voice. "I had one +thousand pounds a year as a regular allowance, and a +thousand pounds goes a long way in Dijon. Besides, if I +wanted more, I had only to ask for it." +</p> + +<p> +Betty's voice broke in a sob suddenly and Hanaud +turned away with a delicacy for which Jim was not +prepared. He began to look at the books upon the shelves, +that she might have time to control her sorrow, taking +down one here, one there, and speaking of them in a casual +tone. +</p> + +<p> +"It is easy to see that this was the library of Monsieur +Simon Harlowe," he said, and was suddenly brought to a +stop. For the door was thrown open and a girl broke into +the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty," she began, and stood staring from one to +another of Betty's visitors. +</p> + +<p> +"Ann, this is Monsieur Hanaud," said Betty with a +careless wave of her hand, and Ann went white as a +sheet. +</p> + +<p> +Ann! Then this girl was Ann Upcott, thought Jim +Frobisher, the girl who had written to him, the girl, all +acquaintanceship with whom he had twice denied, and he +had sat side by side with her, he had even spoken to her. +She swept across the room to him. +</p> + +<p> +"So you have come!" she cried. "But I knew that you +would!" +</p> + +<p> +Jim was conscious of a mist of shining yellow hair, a +pair of sapphire eyes, and of a face impertinently lovely +and most delicate in its colour. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I have come," he said feebly, and Hanaud +looked on with a smile. He had an eye on Betty Harlowe, +and the smile said as clearly as words could say, +"That young man is going to have a deal of trouble +before he gets out of Dijon." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER SIX: <i>Jim Changes His Lodging</i> +</h3> + +<p> +The library was a big oblong room with two tall +windows looking into the court, and the observation +window thrown out at the end over the footway of the +street. A door in the inner wall close to this window led +to a room behind, and a big open fire-place faced the +windows on the court. For the rest, the walls were lined with +high book-shelves filled with books, except for a vacant +space here and there where a volume had been removed. +Hanaud put back in its place the book which he had been +holding in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"One can easily see that this is the library of Simon +Harlowe, the collector," he said. "I have always thought +that if one only had the time to study and compare the +books which a man buys and reads, one would more +surely get the truth of him than in any other way. But +alas! one never has the time." He turned towards Jim +Frobisher regretfully. "Come and stand with me, Monsieur +Frobisher. For even a glance at the backs of them +tells one something." +</p> + +<p> +Jim took his place by Hanaud's side. +</p> + +<p> +"Look, here is a book on Old English Gold Plate, and +another—pronounce that title for me, if you please." +</p> + +<p> +Jim read the title of the book on which Hanaud's finger +was placed. +</p> + +<p> +"Marks and Monograms on Pottery and Porcelain." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud repeated the inscription and moved along. +From a shelf at the level of his breast and just to the +left of the window in which Betty was sitting, he took a +large, thinnish volume in a paper cover, and turned over +the plates. It was a brochure upon Battersea Enamel. +</p> + +<p> +"There should be a second volume," said Jim Frobisher +with a glance at the bookshelf. It was the idlest of +remarks. He was not paying any attention to the +paper-covered book upon Battersea Enamel. For he was really +engaged in speculating why Hanaud had called him to his +side. Was it on the chance that he might detect some +swift look of understanding as it was exchanged by the +two girls, some sign that they were in a collusion? If so, +he was to be disappointed. For though Betty and Ann +were now free from Hanaud's vigilant eye, neither of +them moved, neither of them signalled to the other. +Hanaud, however, seemed entirely interested in his book. +He answered Jim's suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, one would suppose that there were a second volume. +But this is complete," he said, and he put back the +book in its place. There was room next to it for another +quarto book, so long as it was no thicker, and Hanaud +rested his finger in the vacant place on the shelf, with his +thoughts clearly far away. +</p> + +<p> +Betty recalled him to his surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud," she said in her quiet voice from +her seat in the window, "there was a second point, you +said, on which you would like to ask me a question." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mademoiselle, I had not forgotten it." +</p> + +<p> +He turned with a curiously swift movement and stood +so that he had both girls in front of him, Betty on his +left in the window, Ann Upcott standing a little apart +upon his right, gazing at him with a look of awe. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you, Mademoiselle," he asked, "been pestered, +since Boris Waberski brought his accusation, with any +of these anonymous letters which seem to be flying about +Dijon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have received one," answered Betty, and Ann Upcott +raised her eyebrows in surprise. "It came on Sunday +morning. It was very slanderous, of course, and I should +have taken no notice of it but for one thing. It told me +that you, Monsieur Hanaud, were coming from Paris to +take up the case." +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" said Hanaud softly. "And you received this +letter on the Sunday morning? Can you show it to me, +Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not. You destroyed it, as such letter should +be destroyed." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I didn't," Betty answered. "I kept it. I put it +away in a drawer of my writing-table in my own sitting-room. +But that room is sealed up, Monsieur Hanaud. +The letter is in the drawer still." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud received the statement with a frank satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"It cannot run away, then, Mademoiselle," he said +contentedly. But the contentment passed. "So the Commissaire +of Police actually sealed up your private sitting-room. +That, to be sure, was going a little far." +</p> + +<p> +Betty shrugged her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"It was mine, you see, where I keep my private things. +And after all I was accused!" she said bitterly; but Ann +Upcott was not satisfied to leave the matter there. She +drew a step nearer to Betty and then looked at Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"But that is not all the truth," she said. "Betty's room +belongs to that suite of rooms in which Madame Harlowe's +bedroom was arranged. It is the last room of the +suite opening on to the hall, and for that reason, as the +Commissaire said with an apology, it was necessary to +seal it up with the others." +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud with a +smile. "Yes, that of course softens his action." He +looked whimsically at Betty in the window-seat. "It has +been my misfortune, I am afraid, to offend Mademoiselle +Harlowe. Will you help me to get all these troublesome +dates now clear? Madame Harlowe was buried, I +understand, on the Saturday morning twelve days ago!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur," said Ann Upcott. +</p> + +<p> +"And after the funeral, on your return to this house, +the notary opened and read the will?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"And in Boris Waberski's presence?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Then exactly a week later, on Saturday, the seventh of +May, he goes off quickly to the Prefecture of Police?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And on Sunday morning by the post comes the anonymous +letter?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud turned away to Betty, who bowed her head in +answer. +</p> + +<p> +"And a little later on the same morning comes the +Commissaire, who seals the doors." +</p> + +<p> +"At eleven o'clock, to be exact," replied Ann Upcott. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud bowed low. +</p> + +<p> +"You are both wonderful young ladies. You notice the +precise hour at which things happen. It is a rare gift, and +very useful to people like myself." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott had been growing easier and easier in her +manner with each answer that she gave. Now she could +laugh outright. +</p> + +<p> +"I do, at all events, Monsieur Hanaud," she said. "But +alas! I was born to be an old maid. A chair out of place, +a book disarranged, a clock not keeping time, or even a +pin on the carpet—I cannot bear these things. I notice +them at once and I must put them straight. Yes, it was +precisely eleven o'clock when the Commissaire of Police +rang the bell." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he search the rooms before he sealed them?" +Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No. We both of us thought his negligence strange," +Ann replied, "until he informed us that the Examining +Magistrate wanted everything left just as it was." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed genially. +</p> + +<p> +"That was on my account," he explained. "Who could +tell what wonderful things Hanaud might not discover +with his magnifying glass when he arrived from Paris? +What fatal fingerprints! Oh! Ho! ho! What scraps +of burnt letter! Ah! Ha! ha! But I tell you, +Mademoiselle, that if a crime has been committed in this house, +even Hanaud would not expect to make any startling +discoveries in rooms which had been open to the whole +household for a fortnight since the crime. However," +and he moved towards the door, "since I am here +now——" +</p> + +<p> +Betty was upon her feet like a flash of lightning. +Hanaud stopped and swung round upon her, swiftly, with +his eyes very challenging and hard. +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to break those seals now?" she asked +with a curious breathlessness. "Then may I come with +you—please, please! It is I who am accused. I have a +right to be present," and her voice rose into an earnest +cry. +</p> + +<p> +"Calm yourself, Mademoiselle," Hanaud returned +gently. "No advantage will be taken of you. I am going +to break no seals. That, as I have told you, is the +right of the Commissaire, who is a magistrate, and he +will not move until the medical analysis is ready. No, +what I was going to propose was that Mademoiselle +here," and he pointed to Ann, "should show me the outside +of those reception-rooms and the rest of the house." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," said Betty, and she sat down again in the +window-seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Hanaud. He turned back to Ann +Upcott. "Shall we go? And as we go, will you tell me +what you think of Boris Waberski?" +</p> + +<p> +"He has some nerve. I can tell you that, Monsieur +Hanaud," Ann cried. "He actually came back to this +house after he had lodged his charge, and asked me to +support him"; and she passed out of the room in front of +Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher followed the couple to the door and +closed it behind them. The last few minutes had set his +mind altogether at rest. The author of the anonymous +letters was the detective's real quarry. His manner had +quite changed when putting his questions about them. +The flamboyancies and the indifference, even his +amusement at Betty's ill-humour had quite disappeared. He +had got to business watchfully, quietly. Jim came back +into the room. He took his cigarette-case from his pocket +and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +"May I smoke?" he asked. As he turned to Betty for +permission, a fresh shock brought his thoughts and words +alike to a standstill. She was staring at him with panic +naked in her eyes and her face set like a tragic mask. +</p> + +<p> +"He believes me guilty," she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Jim, and he went to her side. But she +would not listen. +</p> + +<p> +"He does. I am sure of it. Don't you see that he was +bound to? He was sent from Paris. He has his reputation +to think of. He must have his victim before he +returns." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was sorely tempted to break his word. He had +only to tell the real cause which had fetched Hanaud out +of Paris and Betty's distress was gone. But he could +not. Every tradition of his life strove to keep him silent. +He dared not even tell her that this charge against her +was only an excuse. She must live in anxiety for a little +while longer. He laid his hand gently upon her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty, don't believe that!" he said, with a consciousness +of how weak that phrase was compared with the +statement he could have made. "I was watching Hanaud, +listening to him. I am sure that he already knew the +answers to the questions he was asking you. Why, he +even knew that Simon Harlowe had a passion for collecting, +though not a word had been said of it. He was asking +questions to see how you would answer them, setting +now and then a little trap, as he admitted——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Betty in trembling voice, "all the time he +was setting traps." +</p> + +<p> +"And every answer that you gave, even your manner +in giving them," Jim continued stoutly, "more and more +made clear your innocence." +</p> + +<p> +"To him?" asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, to him. I am sure of it." +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe caught at his arm and held it in both +her hands. She leaned her head against it. Through the +sleeve of his coat he felt the velvet of her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Jim," and +as she pronounced the name she smiled. She was thanking +him not so much for the stout confidence of his words, +as for the comfort which the touch of him gave to her. +</p> + +<p> +"Very likely I am making too much of little things," she +went on. "Very likely I am ungenerous, too, to Monsieur +Hanaud. But he lives amidst crimes and criminals. He +must be so used to seeing people condemned and passing +out of sight into blackness and horrors, that one more +or less, whether innocent or guilty, going that way, +wouldn't seem to matter very much." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Betty, I think that is a little unjust," Jim +Frobisher remarked gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, I take it back," she said, and she let his +arm go. "All the same, Jim, I am looking to you, not +to him," and she laughed with an appealing tremor in the +laugh which took his heart by storm. +</p> + +<p> +"Luckily," said he, "you don't have to look to any one," +and he had hardly finished the sentence before Ann +Upcott came back alone into the room. She was about +Betty's height and Betty's age and had the same sort of +boyish slenderness and carriage which marks the girls of +this generation. But in other respects, even to the colour +of her clothes, she was as dissimilar as one girl can be +from another. She was dressed in white from her coat to +her shoes, and she wore a big gold hat so that one was +almost at a loss to know where her hat ended and her +hair began. +</p> + +<p> +"And Monsieur Hanaud?" Betty asked. +</p> + +<p> +"He is prowling about by himself," she replied. "I +showed him all the rooms and who used them, and he +said that he would have a look at them and sent me back +to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he break the seals on the reception-rooms?" Betty +Harlowe asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no," said Ann. "Why, he told us that he couldn't +do that without the Commissaire." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he told us that," Betty remarked dryly. "But I +was wondering whether he meant what he told us." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I don't think Monsieur Hanaud's alarming," said +Ann. She gave Jim Frobisher the impression that at any +moment she might call him a dear old thing. She had +quite got over the first little shock which the announcement +of his presence had caused her. "Besides," and she +sat down by the side of Betty in the window-seat and +looked with the frankest confidence at Jim—"besides, we +can feel safe now, anyway." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher threw up his hands in despair. That +queer look of aloofness had played him false with Ann +Upcott now, as it had already done with Betty. If these +two girls had called on him for help when a sudden squall +found them in an open sailing-boat with the sheet of the +sail made fast, or on the ice-slope of a mountain, or with +a rhinoceros lumbering towards them out of some forest +of the Nile, he would not have shrunk from their trust. +But this was quite a different matter. They were calmly +pitting him against Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"You were safe before," he exclaimed. "Hanaud is +not your enemy, and as for me, I have neither experience +nor natural gifts for this sort of work"—and he broke off +with a groan. For both the girls were watching him with +a smile of complete disbelief. +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens, they think that I am being astute," he +reflected, "and the more I confess my incapacity the +astuter they'll take me to be." He gave up all arguments. +"Of course I am absolutely at your service," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Betty. "You will bring your luggage +from your hotel and stay here, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim was tempted to accept that invitation. But, on +the one hand, he might wish to see Hanaud at the Grande +Taverne; or Hanaud might wish to see him, and secrecy +was to be the condition of such meetings. It was better +that he should keep his freedom of movement complete. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't put you to so much trouble, Betty," he replied. +"There's no reason in the world that I should. +A call over the telephone and in five minutes I am at your +side." +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe seemed in doubt to press her invitation +or not. +</p> + +<p> +"It looks a little inhospitable in me," she began, and the +door opened, and Hanaud entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +"I left my hat and stick here," he said. He picked them +up and bowed to the girls. +</p> + +<p> +"You have seen everything, Monsieur Hanaud?" Betty +asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Everything, Mademoiselle. I shall not trouble you +again until the report of the analysis is in my hands. I +wish you a good morning." +</p> + +<p> +Betty slipped off the window-seat and accompanied him +out into the hall. It appeared to Jim Frobisher that she +was seeking to make some amends for her ill-humour; and +when he heard her voice he thought to detect in it some +note of apology. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be very glad if you will let me know the sense +of that report as soon as possible," she pleaded. "You, +better than any one, will understand that this is a difficult +hour for me." +</p> + +<p> +"I understand very well, Mademoiselle," Hanaud answered +gravely. "I will see to it that the hour is not +prolonged." +</p> + +<p> +Jim, watching them through the doorway, as they stood +together in the sunlit hall, felt ever so slight a touch upon +his arm. He wheeled about quickly. Ann Upcott was +at his side with all the liveliness and even the delicate +colour gone from her face, and a wild and desperate +appeal in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You will come and stay here? Oh, please!" she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"I have just refused," he answered. "You heard me." +</p> + +<p> +"I know," she went on, the words stumbling over one +another from her lips. "But take back your refusal. Do! +Oh, I am frightened out of my wits. I don't understand +anything. I am terrified!" And she clasped her hands +together in supplication. Jim had never seen fear so +stark, no, not even in Betty's eyes a few minutes ago. +It robbed her exquisite face of all its beauty, and made it +in a second, haggard and old. But before he could answer, +a stick clattered loudly upon the pavement of the +hall and startled them both like the crack of a pistol. +</p> + +<p> +Jim looked through the doorway. Hanaud was stooping +to pick up his cane. Betty made a dive for it, but +Hanaud already had it in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, Mademoiselle, but I can still touch my +toes. Every morning I do it five times in my pyjamas," +and with a laugh he ran down the couple of steps into the +courtyard and with that curiously quick saunter of his +was out into the street of Charles-Robert in a moment. +When Jim turned again to Ann Upcott, the fear had gone +from her face so completely that he could hardly believe +his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty, he is going to stay," she cried gaily. +</p> + +<p> +"So I inferred," replied Betty with a curious smile as +she came back into the room. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER SEVEN: <i>Exit Waberski</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher neither saw nor heard any more of +Hanaud that day. He fetched his luggage away from +the hotel and spent the evening with Betty Harlowe and +Ann Upcott at the Maison Crenelle. They took their +coffee after dinner in the garden behind the house, +descending to it by a short flight of stone steps from a great +door at the back of the hall. And by some sort of +unspoken compact they avoided all mention of Waberski's +charge. They had nothing to do but to wait now for the +analyst's report. But the long line of high, shuttered +windows just above their heads, the windows of the +reception-rooms, forbade them to forget the subject, and +their conversation perpetually dwindled down into long +silences. It was cool out here in the dark garden, cool +and very still; so that the bustle of a bird amongst the +leaves of the sycamores startled them and the rare footsteps +of a passer-by in the little street of Charles-Robert +rang out as though they would wake a dreaming city. +Jim noticed that once or twice Ann Upcott leaned swiftly +forward and stared across the dark lawns and glimmering +paths to the great screen of tall trees, as if her eyes +had detected a movement amongst their stems. But on +each occasion she said nothing and with an almost +inaudible sigh sank back in her chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there a door into the garden from the street?" +Frobisher asked, and Betty answered him. +</p> + +<p> +"No. There is a passage at the end of the house under +the reception-rooms from the courtyard which the gardeners +use. The only other entrance is through the hall +behind us. This old house was built in days when your +house really was your castle and the fewer the entrances, +the more safely you slept." +</p> + +<p> +The clocks of that city of Clocks clashed out the hour +of eleven, throwing the sounds of their strokes backwards +and forwards above the pinnacles and roof-tops in a sort +of rivalry. Betty rose to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"There's a day gone, at all events," she said, and Ann +Upcott agreed with a breath of relief. To Jim it seemed +a pitiful thing that these two girls, to whom each day +should be a succession of sparkling hours all too short, +must be rejoicing quietly, almost gratefully, that another +of them had passed. +</p> + +<p> +"It should be the last of the bad days," he said, and +Betty turned swiftly towards him, her great eyes shining +in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"Good night, Jim," she said, her voice ever so slightly +lingering like a caress upon his name and she held out +her hand. "It's terribly dull for you, but we are not +unselfish enough to let you go. You see, we are shunned +just now—oh, it's natural! To have you with us means +a great deal. For one thing," and there came a little lilt +in her voice, "I shall sleep to-night." She ran up the +steps and stood for a moment against the light from the +hall. "A long-legged slip of a girl, in black silk +stockings"—thus Mr. Haslitt had spoken of her as she was +five years ago, and the description fitted her still. +</p> + +<p> +"Good night, Betty," said Jim, and Ann Upcott ran +past him up the steps and waved her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Good night," said Jim, and with a little twist of her +shoulders Ann followed Betty. She came back, however. +She was wearing a little white frock of <i>crêpe de Chine</i> +with white stockings and satin shoes, and she gleamed at +the head of the steps like a slender thing of silver. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll bolt the door when you come in, won't you?" +She pleaded with a curious anxiety considering the height +of the strong walls about the garden. +</p> + +<p> +"I will," said Jim, and he wondered why in all this +business Ann Upcott stood out as a note of fear. It was +high time indeed, that the long line of windows was +thrown open and the interdict raised from the house and +its inmates. Jim Frobisher paced the quiet garden in the +darkness with a prayer at his heart that that time would +come to-morrow. In Betty's room above the reception-rooms +the light was still burning behind the latticed shutters +of the windows, in spite of her confidence that she +would sleep—yes, and in Ann Upcott's room too, at the +end of the house towards the street. A fury against +Boris Waberski flamed up in him. +</p> + +<p> +It was late before he himself went into the house and +barred the door, later still before he fell asleep. But +once asleep, he slept soundly, and when he waked, it was +to find his shutters thrown wide to the sunlight, his coffee +cold by his bedside, and Gaston, the old servant, in the +room. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud asked me to tell you he was in the +library," he said. +</p> + +<p> +Jim was out of bed in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"Already? What is the time, Gaston?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nine o'clock. I have prepared Monsieur's bath." He +removed the tray from the table by the bed. "I will bring +some fresh coffee." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you! And will you please tell Monsieur +Hanaud that I will not be long." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +Jim took his coffee while he dressed and hurried down +to the library, where he found Hanaud seated at the big +writing-table in the middle of the room, with a newspaper +spread out over the blotting-pad and placidly reading the +news. He spoke quickly enough, however, the moment +Jim appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"So you left your hotel in the Place Darcy, after all, +eh, my friend? The exquisite Miss Upcott! She had but +to sigh out a little prayer and clasp her hands together, +and it was done. Yes, I saw it all from the hall. What +it is to be young! You have those two letters which +Waberski wrote your firm?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Jim. He did not think it necessary to +explain that though the prayer was Ann Upcott's, it was +the thought of Betty which had brought him to the +Maison Grenelle. +</p> + +<p> +"Good! I have sent for him," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"To come to this house?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am expecting him now." +</p> + +<p> +"That's capital," cried Jim. "I shall meet him, then! +The damned rogue! I shouldn't wonder if I thumped +him," and he clenched his fist and shook it in a joyous +anticipation. +</p> + +<p> +"I doubt if that would be so helpful as you think. No, +I beg of you to place yourself in my hands this morning, +Monsieur Frobisher," Hanaud interposed soberly. +"If you confront Waberski at once with those two letters, +at once his accusation breaks down. He will withdraw +it. He will excuse himself. He will burst into a torrent +of complaints and reproaches. And I shall get nothing +out of him. That I do not want." +</p> + +<p> +"But what is there to be got?" Jim asked impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Something perhaps. Perhaps nothing," the detective +returned with a shrug of the shoulders. "I have a second +mission in Dijon, as I told you in Paris." +</p> + +<p> +"The anonymous letters?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. You were present yesterday when Mademoiselle +Harlowe told me how she learned that I was summoned +from Paris upon this case. It was not, after all, +any of my colleagues here who spread the news. It is +even now unknown that I am here. No, it was the writer +of the letters. And in so difficult a matter I can afford +to neglect no clue. Did Waberski know that I was going +to be sent for? Did he hear that at the Prefecture when +he lodged his charge on the Saturday or from the +examining magistrate on the same day? And if he did, to +whom did he talk between the time when he saw the +magistrate and the time when letters must be posted if they +are to be delivered on the Sunday morning? These are +questions I must have the answer to, and if we at once +administer the knock-out with your letters, I shall not +get them. I must lead him on with friendliness. You +see that." +</p> + +<p> +Jim very reluctantly did. He had longed to see +Hanaud dealing with Waberski in the most outrageous +of his moods, pouncing and tearing and trampling with +the gibes of a schoolboy and the improprieties of the +gutter. Hanaud indeed had promised him as much. But +he found him now all for restraint and sobriety and more +concerned apparently with the authorship of the anonymous +letters than with the righting of Betty Harlowe. +Jim felt that he had been defrauded. +</p> + +<p> +"But I am to meet this man," he said. "That must not +be forgotten." +</p> + +<p> +"And it shall not be," Hanaud assured him. He led +him over to the door in the inner wall close to the +observation window and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +"See! If you will please to wait in here," and as the +disappointment deepened on Jim's face, he added, "Oh, +I do not ask you to shut the door. No. Bring up a chair +to it—so! And keep the door ajar so! Then you will +see and hear and yet not be seen. You are content? Not +very. You would prefer to be on the stage the whole +time like an actor. Yes, we all do. But, at all events, +you do not throw up your part," and with a friendly grin +he turned back to the table. +</p> + +<p> +A shuffling step which merged into the next step with +a curiously slovenly sound rose from the courtyard. +</p> + +<p> +"It was time we made our little arrangements," said +Hanaud in an undertone. "For here comes our hero from +the Steppes." +</p> + +<p> +Jim popped his head through the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud!" he whispered excitedly. "Monsieur +Hanaud! It cannot be wise to leave those windows +open on the courtyard. For if we can hear a footstep so +loudly in this room, anything said in this room will be +easily overheard in the court." +</p> + +<p> +"But how true that is!" Hanaud replied in the same +voice and struck his forehead with his fist in anger at his +folly. "But what are we to do? The day is so hot. +This room will be an oven. The ladies and Waberski +will all faint. Besides, I have an officer in plain clothes +already stationed in the court to see that it is kept empty. +Yes, we will risk it." +</p> + +<p> +Jim drew back. +</p> + +<p> +"That man doesn't welcome advice from any one," +he said indignantly, but he said it only to himself; and +almost before he had finished, the bell rang. A few +seconds afterwards Gaston entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Boris," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Hanaud with a nod. "And will you tell +the ladies that we are ready?" +</p> + +<p> +Boris Waberski, a long, round-shouldered man with +bent knees and clumsy feet, dressed in black and holding +a soft black felt hat in his hand, shambled quickly into +the room and stopped dead at the sight of Hanaud. +Hanaud bowed and Waberski returned the bow; and +then the two men stood looking at one another—Hanaud +all geniality and smiles, Waberski a rather grotesque +figure of uneasiness like one of those many grim +caricatures carved by the imagination of the Middle Ages on +the columns of the churches of Dijon. He blinked in +perplexity at the detective and with his long, +tobacco-stained fingers tortured his grey moustache. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you be seated?" said Hanaud politely. "I think +that the ladies will not keep us waiting." +</p> + +<p> +He pointed towards a chair in front of the writing-table +but on his left hand and opposite to the door. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand," said Waberski doubtfully. "I +received a message. I understood that the Examining +Magistrate had sent for me." +</p> + +<p> +"I am his agent," said Hanaud. "I am——" and he +stopped. "Yes?" +</p> + +<p> +Boris Waberski stared. +</p> + +<p> +"I said nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon. I am—Hanaud." +</p> + +<p> +He shot the name out quickly, but he was answered by +no start, nor by any sign of recognition. +</p> + +<p> +"Hanaud?" Waberski shook his head. "That no +doubt should be sufficient to enlighten me," he said with +a smile, "but it is better to be frank—it doesn't." +</p> + +<p> +"Hanaud of the Sûrété of Paris." +</p> + +<p> +And upon Waberski's face there came slowly a look of +utter consternation. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" he said, and again "Oh!" with a lamentable look +towards the door as if he was in two minds whether to +make a bolt of it. Hanaud pointed again to the chair, +and Waberski murmured, "Yes—to be sure," and made +a little run to it and sank down. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher, watching from his secret place, was +certain of one thing. Boris Waberski had not written the +anonymous letter to Betty nor had he contributed the +information about Hanaud to the writer. He might well +have been thought to have been acting ignorance of +Hanaud's name, up to the moment when Hanaud explained +who Hanaud was. But no longer. His consternation +then was too genuine. +</p> + +<p> +"You will understand, of course, that an accusation +so serious as the one you have brought against Mademoiselle +Harlowe demands the closest inquiry," Hanaud continued +without any trace of irony, "and the Examining +Magistrate in charge of the case honoured us in Paris +with a request for help." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is very difficult," replied Boris Waberski, +twisting about as if he was a martyr on red-hot plates. +</p> + +<p> +But the difficulty was Waberski's, as Jim, with that +distressed man in full view, was now able to appreciate. +Waberski had rushed to the Prefecture when no answer +came from Messrs. Frobisher & Haslitt to his letter of +threats, and had brought his charge in a spirit of +disappointment and rancour, with a hope no doubt that some +offer of cash would be made to him and that he could +withdraw it. Now he found the trained detective service +of France upon his heels, asking for his proofs and +evidence. This was more than he had bargained for. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought," Hanaud continued easily, "that a little +informal conversation between you and me and the two +young ladies, without shorthand writers or secretaries, +might be helpful." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed," said Waberski hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +"As a preliminary of course," Hanaud added dryly, "a +preliminary to the more serious and now inevitable +procedure." +</p> + +<p> +Waberski's gleam of hopefulness was extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure," he murmured, plucking at his lean throat +nervously. "Cases must proceed." +</p> + +<p> +"That is what they are there for," said Hanaud +sententiously; and the door of the library was pushed open. +Betty came into the room with Ann Upcott immediately +behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"You sent for me," she began to Hanaud, and then she +saw Boris Waberski. Her little head went up with a +jerk, her eyes smouldered. "Monsieur Boris," she said, +and again she spoke to Hanaud. "Come to take possession, +I suppose?" Then she looked round the room for +Jim Frobisher, and exclaimed in a sudden dismay: +</p> + +<p> +"But I understood that——" and Hanaud was just in +time to stop her from mentioning any name. +</p> + +<p> +"All in good time, Mademoiselle," he said quickly. +"Let us take things in their order." +</p> + +<p> +Betty took her old place in the window-seat. Ann +Upcott shut the door and sat down in a chair a little apart +from the others. Hanaud folded up his newspaper and +laid it aside. On the big blotting-pad which was now +revealed lay one of those green files which Jim Frobisher +had noticed in the office of the Sûrété. Hanaud opened +it and took up the top paper. He turned briskly to +Waberski. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, you state that on the night of the 27th of +April, this girl here, Betty Harlowe, did wilfully give to +her adoptive mother and benefactress, Jeanne-Marie +Harlowe, an overdose of a narcotic by which her death was +brought about." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Waberski with an air of boldness, "I declare +that." +</p> + +<p> +"You do not specify the narcotic?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was probably morphine, but I cannot be sure." +</p> + +<p> +"And administered, according to you, if this summary +which I hold here is correct, in the glass of lemonade +which Madame Harlowe had always at her bedside." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laid the sheet of foolscap down again. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not charge the nurse, Jeanne Baudin, with +complicity in this crime?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no!" Waberski exclaimed with a sort of horror, +with his eyes open wide and his eyebrows running up his +forehead towards his hedge of wiry hair. "I have not a +suspicion of Jeanne Baudin. I pray you, Monsieur +Hanaud, to be clear upon that point. There must be no +injustice! No! Oh, it is well that I came here to-day! +Jeanne Baudin! Listen! I would engage her to nurse +me to-morrow, were my health to fail." +</p> + +<p> +"One cannot say more than that," replied Hanaud with +a grave sympathy. "I only asked you the question +because undoubtedly Jeanne Baudin was in Madame's +bedroom when Mademoiselle entered it to wish Madame +good night and show off her new dancing-frock." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I understand," said Waberski. He was growing +more and more confident, so suave and friendly was this +Monsieur Hanaud of the Sûrété. "But the fatal drug +was slipped into that glass without a doubt when Jeanne +Baudin was not looking. I do not accuse her. No! It +is that hard one," and his voice began to shake and his +mouth to work, "who slipped it in and then hurried off +to dance till morning, whilst her victim died. It is terrible +that! Yes, Monsieur Hanaud, it is terrible. My poor +sister!" +</p> + +<p> +"Sister-in-law." +</p> + +<p> +The correction came with an acid calm from an armchair +near the door in which Ann Upcott was reclining. +</p> + +<p> +"Sister to me!" replied Waberski mournfully and he +turned to Hanaud. "Monsieur, I shall never cease to +reproach myself. I was away fishing in the forest. If +I had stayed at home! Think of it! I ask you to——" +and his voice broke. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but you did come back, Monsieur Waberski," +Hanaud said, "and this is where I am perplexed. You +loved your sister. That is clear, since you cannot even +think of her without tears." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," Waberski shaded his eyes with his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Then why did you, loving her so dearly, wait for so +long before you took any action to avenge her death? +There will be some good reason not a doubt, but I have +not got it." Hanaud continued, spreading out his hands. +"Listen to the dates. Your dear sister dies on the night +of the 27th of April. You return home on the 28th; and +you do nothing, you bring no charge, you sit all quiet. +She is buried on the 30th, and after that you still do +nothing, you sit all quiet. It is not until one week after +that you launch your accusation against Mademoiselle. +Why? I beg you, Monsieur Waberski, not to look at +me between the fingers, for the answer is not written on +my face, and to explain this difficulty to me." +</p> + +<p> +The request was made in the same pleasant, friendly +voice which Hanaud had used so far and without any +change of intonation. But Waberski snatched his hand +away from his forehead and sat up with a flush on his +face. +</p> + +<p> +"I answer you at once," he exclaimed. "From the first +I knew it here," and he thumped his heart with his fist, +"that murder had been committed. But as yet I did not +know it here," and he patted his forehead, "in my head. +So I think and I think and I think. I see reasons and +motives. They build themselves up. A young girl of +beauty and style, but of a strange and secret character, +thirsting in her heart for colour and laughter and +enjoyment and the power which her beauty offers her if she +will but grasp it, and yet while thirsting, very able to +conceal all sign of thirst. That is the picture I give you +of that hard one, Betty Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +For the first time since the interview had commenced, +Betty herself showed some interest in it. Up till now +she had sat without a movement, a figure of disdain in +an ice-house of pride. Now she flashed into life. She +leaned forward, her elbow on her crossed knee, her chin +propped in her hand, her eyes on Waberski, and a smile +of amusement at this analysis of herself giving life to +her face. Jim Frobisher, on the other hand, behind his +door felt that he was listening to blasphemies. Why did +Hanaud endure it? There was information, he had said, +which he wanted to get from Boris Waberski. The point +on which he wanted information was settled long ago, at +the very beginning of this informal session. It was as +clear as daylight that Waberski had nothing to do with +Betty's anonymous letter. Why, then, should Hanaud +give this mountebank of a fellow a free opportunity to +slander Betty Harlowe? Why should he question and +question as if there were solid weight in the accusation? +Why, in a word, didn't he fling open this door, allow +Frobisher to produce the blackmailing letters to +Mr. Haslitt, and then stand aside while Boris Waberski was +put into that condition in which he would call upon the +services of Jeanne Baudin? Jim indeed was furiously +annoyed with Monsieur Hanaud. He explained to +himself that he was disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Boris Waberski, after a little nervous check +when Betty had leaned forward, continued his description. +</p> + +<p> +"For such a one Dijon would be tiresome. It is true +there was each year a month or so at Monte Carlo, just +enough to give one a hint of what might be, like a +cigarette to a man who wants to smoke. And then back +to Dijon! Ah, Monsieur, not the Dijon of the Dukes of +Burgundy, not even the Dijon of the Parliament of the +States, but the Dijon of to-day, an ordinary, dull, +provincial town of France which keeps nothing of its former +gaieties and glory but some old rare buildings and a little +spirit of mockery. Imagine, then, Monsieur, this hard +one with a fortune and freedom within her grasp if only +she has the boldness on some night when Monsieur Boris +is out of the way to seize them! Nor is that all. For +there is an invalid in the house to whom attentions are +owed—yes, and must be given." Waberski, in a flight of +excitement checked himself and half closed his eyes, with +a little cunning nod. "For the invalid was not so easy. +No, even that dear one had her failings. Oh, yes, and we +will not forget them when the moment comes for the +extenuating pleas. No, indeed," and he flung his arm +out nobly. "I myself will be the first to urge them to the +judge of the Assizes when the verdict is given." +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe leaned back once more indifferent. +From an arm-chair near the door, a little gurgle of +laughter broke from the lips of Ann Upcott. Even Hanaud +smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," he said; "but we have not got quite as far +as the Court of Assizes, Monsieur Waberski. We are +still at the point where you know it in your heart but not +in your head." +</p> + +<p> +"That is so," Waberski returned briskly. "On the +seventh of May, a Saturday, I bring my accusation to the +Prefecture. Why? For, on the morning of that day I +am certain. I know it at last here too," and up went his +hand to his forehead, and he hitched himself forward on +to the edge of his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I am in the street of Gambetta, one of the small popular +new streets, a street with some little shops and a reputation +not of the best. At ten o'clock I am passing quickly +through that street when from a little shop a few yards +in front of me out pops that hard one, my niece." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the whole character of that session had +changed. Jim Frobisher, though he sat apart from it, +felt the new tension, and was aware of the new expectancy. +A moment ago Boris Waberski as he sat talking +and gesticulating had been a thing for ridicule, almost for +outright laughter. Now, though his voice still jumped +hysterically from high notes to low notes and his body +jerked like a marionette's, he held the eyes of every +one—every one, that is, except Betty Harlowe. He was no +longer vague. He was speaking of a definite hour and a +place and of a definite incident which happened there. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, in that bad little street I see her. I do not +believe my senses. I step into a little narrow alley and I +peep round the corner. I peep with my eyes," and +Waberski pointed to them with two of his fingers as though +there was something peculiarly convincing in the fact +that he peeped with them and not with his elbows, "and +I am sure. Then I wait until she is out of sight, and +I creep forward to see what shop it is she visited in that +little street of squalor. Once more I do not believe my +eyes. For over the door I read the name, Jean Cladel, +Herbalist." +</p> + +<p> +He pronounced the name in a voice of triumph and sat +back in his chair, nodding his head violently at intervals +of a second. There was not a sound in the room until +Hanaud's voice broke the silence. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand," he said softly. "Who is this +Jean Cladel, and why should a young lady not visit his +shop?" +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," Waberski replied. "You are not +of Dijon. No! or you would not have asked that question. +Jean Cladel has no better name than the street he +very suitably lives in. Ask a Dijonnais about Jean Cladel, +and you will see how he becomes silent and shrugs his +shoulders as if here was a topic on which it was becoming +to be silent. Better still, Monsieur Hanaud, ask at +the Prefecture. Jean Cladel! Twice he has been tried +for selling prohibited drugs." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was stung at last out of his calm. +</p> + +<p> +"What is that?" he cried in a sharp voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, twice, Monsieur. Each time he has scraped +through, that is true. He has powerful friends, and +witnesses have been spirited away. But he is known! Jean +Cladel! Yes, Jean Cladel!" +</p> + +<p> +"Jean Cladel, Herbalist of the street Gambetta," +Hanaud repeated slowly. "But"—and he leaned back in +an easier attitude—"you will see my difficulty, Monsieur +Waberski. Ten o'clock is a public hour. It is not a likely +hour for any one to choose for so imprudent a visit, even +if that one were stupid." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and so I reasoned too," Waberski interposed +quickly. "As I told you, I could not believe my eyes. +But I made sure—oh, there was no doubt, Monsieur +Hanaud. And I thought to myself this. Crimes are +discovered because criminals, even the acutest, do sooner +or later some foolish thing. Isn't it so? Sometimes they +are too careful; they make their proofs too perfect for an +imperfect world. Sometimes they are too careless or are +driven by necessity to a rash thing. But somehow a +mistake is made and justice wins the game." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Aha! a student of crime, Monsieur!" He turned to +Betty, and it struck upon Jim Frobisher with a curious +discomfort that this was the first time Hanaud had looked +directly at Betty since the interview had begun. +</p> + +<p> +"And what do you say to this story, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a lie," she answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not visit Jean Cladel in the street of Gambetta +at ten o'clock on the morning of the 7th of May?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did not, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +Waberski smiled and twisted his moustache. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course! Of course! We could not expect Mademoiselle +to admit it. One fights for one's skin, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"But, after all," Hanaud interrupted, with enough +savagery in his voice to check all Waberski's complacency, +"let us not forget that on the 7th of May, Madame +Harlowe had been dead for ten days. Why should +Mademoiselle still be going to the shop of Jean Cladel?" +</p> + +<p> +"To pay," said Waberski. "Oh, no doubt Jean Cladel's +wares are expensive and have to be paid for more than +once, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"By wares you mean poison," said Hanaud. "Let us +be explicit." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Poison which was used to murder Madame Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +"I say so," Waberski declared, folding his arms across +his breast. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," said Hanaud. He took from his green +file a second paper written over in a fine hand and +emphasised by an official stamp. "Then what will you say, +Monsieur, if I tell you that the body of Madame +Harlowe has been exhumed?" Hanaud continued, and +Waberski's face lost what little colour it had. He stared +at Hanaud, his jaw working up and down nervously, and +he did not say a word. +</p> + +<p> +"And what will you say if I tell you," Hanaud +continued, "that no more morphia was discovered in it than +one sleeping-dose would explain and no trace at all of any +other poison?" +</p> + +<p> +In a complete silence Waberski took his handkerchief +from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. The game was +up. He had hoped to make his terms, but his bluff was +called. He had not one atom of faith in his own accusation. +There was but one course for him to take, and that +was to withdraw his charge and plead that his affection +for his sister-in-law had led him into a gross mistake. +But Boris Waberski was never the man for that. He had +that extra share of cunning which shipwrecks always the +minor rogue. He was unwise enough to imagine that +Hanaud might be bluffing too. +</p> + +<p> +He drew his chair a little nearer to the table. He +tittered and nodded at Hanaud confidentially. +</p> + +<p> +"You say 'if I tell you,'" he said smoothly. "Yes, but +you do not tell me, Monsieur Hanaud—no, not at all. +On the contrary, what you say is this: 'My friend Waberski, +here is a difficult matter which, if exposed, means a +great scandal, and of which the issue is doubtful. There +is no good in stirring the mud.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I say that?" Hanaud asked, smiling pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +Waberski felt sure of his ground now. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and more than that. You say, 'You have been +badly treated, my friend Waberski, and if you will now +have a little talk with that hard one your niece——'" +</p> + +<p> +And his chair slid back against the bookcase and he sat +gaping stupidly like a man who has been shot. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud had sprung to his feet, he stood towering +above the table, his face suddenly dark with passion. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I say all that, do I?" he thundered. "I came +all the way from Paris to Dijon to preside over a little +bargain in a murder case! I—Hanaud! Oh! ho! ho! +I'll teach you a lesson for that! Read this!" and bending +forward he thrust out the paper with the official seal. +"It is the report of the analysts. Take it, I tell you, and +read it!" +</p> + +<p> +Waberski reached out a trembling arm, afraid to +venture nearer. Even when he had the paper in his hands, +they shook so he could not read it. But since he had +never believed in his charge that did not matter. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he muttered, "no doubt I have made a mistake." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud caught the word up. +</p> + +<p> +"Mistake! Ah, there's a fine word! I'll show you +what sort of a mistake you have made. Draw up your +chair to this table in front of me! So! And take a +pen—so! And a sheet of paper—so! and now you write +for me a letter." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," Waberski agreed. All the bravado had +gone from his bearing, all the insinuating slyness. He +was in a quiver from head to foot. "I will write that I +am sorry." +</p> + +<p> +"That is not necessary," roared Hanaud. "I will see +to it that you are sorry. No! You write for me what I +dictate to you and in English. You are ready? Yes? +Then you begin. 'Dear Sirs.' You have that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," said Waberski, scribbling hurriedly. His +head was in a whirl. He flinched as he wrote under the +towering bulk of the detective. He had as yet no +comprehension of the goal to which he was being led. +</p> + +<p> +"Good! 'Dear Sirs,'" Hanaud repeated. "But we +want a date for that letter. April 30th, eh? That will +do. The day Madame Harlowe's will was read and you +found you were left no money. April 30th—put it in. +So! Now we go on. 'Dear Sirs, Send me at once one +thousand pounds by the recommended post, or I make +some awkwardnesses——'" +</p> + +<p> +Waberski dropped his pen and sprang back out of his +chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand—I can't write that.... There +is an error—I never meant..." he stammered, his +hands raised as if to ward off an attack. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, you never meant the blackmail!" Hanaud cried +savagely. "Ah! Ha! Ha! It is good for you that I +now know that! For when, as you put it so delicately +to Mademoiselle, the moment comes for the extenuating +pleas, I can rise up in the Court and urge it. Yes! I +will say: 'Mr. the President, though he did the blackmail, +poor fellow, he never meant it. So please to give him +five years more,'" and with that Hanaud swept across +the room like a tornado and flung open the door behind +which Frobisher was waiting. +</p> + +<p> +"Come!" he said, and he led Jim into the room. "You +produce the two letters he wrote to your firm, Monsieur +Frobisher. Good!" +</p> + +<p> +But it was not necessary to produce them. Boris +Waberski had dropped into a chair and burst into tears. +There was a little movement of discomfort made by +every one in that room except Hanaud; and even his +anger dropped. He looked at Waberski in silence. +</p> + +<p> +"You make us all ashamed. You can go back to your +hotel," he said shortly. "But you will not leave Dijon, +Monsieur Waberski, until it is decided what steps we shall +take with you." +</p> + +<p> +Waberski rose to his feet and stumbled blindly to the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"I make my apologies," he stammered. "It is all a +mistake. I am very poor ... I meant no harm," and +without looking at any one he got himself out of the +room. +</p> + +<p> +"That type! He at all events cannot any more think +that Dijon is dull," said Hanaud, and once more he +adventured on the dangerous seas of the English +language. "Do you know what my friend Mister Ricardo +would have said? No? I tell you. He would have said, +'That fellow! My God! What a sauce!'" +</p> + +<p> +Those left in the room, Betty, Ann Upcott, and Jim +Frobisher, were in a mood to welcome any excuse for +laughter. The interdict upon the house was raised, the +charge against Betty proved of no account, the whole +bad affair was at an end. Or so it seemed. But Hanaud +went quickly to the door and closed it, and when he +turned back there was no laughter at all upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Now that that man has gone," he said gravely, "I +have something to tell you three which is very serious. I +believe that, though Waberski does not know it, Madame +Harlowe was murdered by poison in this house on the +night of April the twenty-seventh." +</p> + +<p> +The statement was received in a dreadful silence. Jim +Frobisher stood like a man whom some calamity has +stunned. Betty leaned forward in her seat with a face of +horror and incredulity; and then from the arm-chair by +the door where Ann Upcott was sitting there burst a loud, +wild cry. +</p> + +<p> +"There was some one in the house that night," she cried. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud swung round to her, his eyes blazing. +</p> + +<p> +"And it is you who tell me that, Mademoiselle?" he +asked in a curious, steady voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It's the truth," she cried with a sort of relief +in her voice, that at last a secret was out which had grown +past endurance. "I am sure now. There was a stranger +in the house." And though her face was white as paper, +her eyes met Hanaud's without fear. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER EIGHT: <i>The Book</i> +</h3> + +<p> +The two startling declarations, one treading upon the +heels of the other, set Jim Frobisher's brain whirling. +Consternation and bewilderment were all jumbled +together. He had no time to ask "how," for he was +already asking "What next?" His first clear thought +was for Betty, and as he looked at her, a sharp anger +against both Hanaud and Ann Upcott seized and shook +him. Why hadn't they both spoken before? Why must +they speak now? Why couldn't they leave well alone? +</p> + +<p> +For Betty had fallen back in the window-seat, her +hands idle at her sides and her face utterly weary and +distressed. Jim thought of some stricken patient who +wakes in the morning to believe for a few moments that +the malady was a bad dream; and then comes the stab +and the cloud of pain settles down for another day. A +moment ago Betty's ordeal seemed over. Now it was +beginning a new phase. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry," he said to her. +</p> + +<p> +The report of the analysts was lying on the writing-table +just beneath his eyes. He took it up idly. It was +a trick, of course, with its seals and its signatures, a +trick of Hanaud's to force Waberski to a retraction. He +glanced at it, and with an exclamation began carefully +to read it through from the beginning to the end. When +he had finished, he raised his head and stared at Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"But this report is genuine," he cried. "Here are +the details of the tests applied and the result. There was +no trace discovered of any poison." +</p> + +<p> +"No trace at all," Hanaud replied. He was not in the +least disturbed by the question. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I don't understand why you bring the accusation +or whom you accuse," Frobisher exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"I have accused no one," said Hanaud steadily. "Let +us be clear about that! As to your other question—look!" +</p> + +<p> +He took Frobisher by the elbow and led him to that +bookshelf by the window before which they had stood +together yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +"There was an empty space here yesterday. You yourself +drew my attention to it. You see that the space is +filled to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud took down the volume which occupied the +space. It was of quarto size, fairly thick and bound in a +paper cover. +</p> + +<p> +"Look at that," he said; and Jim Frobisher as he took +it noticed with a queer little start that although Hanaud's +eyes were on his face they were blank of all expression. +They did not see him. Hanaud's senses were concentrated +on the two girls at neither of whom he so much +as glanced. He was alert to them, to any movement they +might make of surprise or terror. Jim threw up his +head in a sudden revolt. He was being used for another +trick, as some conjurer may use a fool of a fellow whom +he has persuaded out of his audience on to his platform. +Jim looked at the cover of the book, and cried with +enough violence to recall Hanaud's attention: +</p> + +<p> +"I see nothing here to the point. It is a treatise printed +by some learned society in Edinburgh." +</p> + +<p> +"It is. And if you will look again, you will see that +it was written by a Professor of Medicine in that +University. And if you will look a third time you will see +from a small inscription in ink that the copy was +presented with the Professor's compliments to Mr. Simon +Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud, whilst he was speaking, went to the second +of the two windows which looked upon the court and putting +his head out, spoke for a little while in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall not need our sentry here any more," he +said as he turned back into the room. "I have sent him +upon an errand." +</p> + +<p> +He went back to Jim Frobisher, who was turning over +a page of the treatise here and there and was never a +scrap the wiser. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Strophanthus Hispidus," Jim read aloud the title of +the treatise. "I can't make head or tail of it." +</p> + +<p> +"Let me try!" said Hanaud, and he took the book out +of Frobisher's hands. "I will show you all how I spent +the half-hour whilst I was waiting for you this morning." +</p> + +<p> +He sat down at the writing-table, placed the treatise on +the blotting-pad in front of him and laid it open at a +coloured plate. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the fruit of the plant Strophanthus Hispidus, +when it is ripening," he said. +</p> + +<p> +The plate showed two long, tapering follicles joined +together at their stems and then separating like a pair +of compasses set at an acute angle. The backs of these +follicles were rounded, dark in colour and speckled; the +inner surfaces, however, were flat, and the curious +feature of them was that, from longitudinal crevices, a +number of silky white feathers protruded. +</p> + +<p> +"Each of these feathers," Hanaud continued, and he +looked up to find that Ann Upcott had drawn close to +the table and that Betty Harlowe herself was leaning +forward with a look of curiosity upon her face—"each +of these feathers is attached by a fine stalk to an elliptical +pod, which is the seed, and when the fruit is quite ripe +and these follicles have opened so that they make a +straight line, the feathers are released and the wind +spreads the seed. It is wonderful, eh? See!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud turned the pages until he came to another plate. +Here a feather was represented in complete detachment +from the follicle. It was outspread like a fan and was +extraordinarily pretty and delicate in its texture; and +from it by a stem as fine as a hair the seed hung like a +jewel. +</p> + +<p> +"What would you say of it, Mademoiselle?" Hanaud +asked, looking up into the face of Ann Upcott with a +smile. "An ornament wrought for a fine lady, by a +dainty artist, eh?" and he turned the book round so that +she on the opposite side of the table might the better +admire the engraving. +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe, it seemed, was now mastered by her +curiosity. Jim Frobisher, gazing down over Hanaud's +shoulder at the plate and wondering uneasily whither he +was being led, saw a shadow fall across the book. And +there was Betty, standing by the side of her friend with +the palms of her hands upon the edge of the table and her +face bent over the book. +</p> + +<p> +"One could wish it was an ornament, this seed of the +Strophanthus Hispidus," Hanaud continued with a shake +of the head. "But, alas! it is not so harmless." +</p> + +<p> +He turned the book around again to himself and once +more turned the pages. The smile had disappeared +altogether from his face. He stopped at a third plate; and +this third plate showed a row of crudely fashioned arrows +with barbed heads. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud glanced up over his shoulder at Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you understand now the importance of this book, +Monsieur Frobisher?" he asked. "No? The seeds of +this plant make the famous arrow-poison of Africa. The +deadliest of all the poisons since there is no antidote +for it." His voice grew sombre. "The wickedest of all +the poisons, since it leaves no trace." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher was startled. "Is that true?" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Hanaud; and Betty suddenly leaned +forward and pointed to the bottom of the plate. +</p> + +<p> +"There is a mark there below the hilt of that arrow," +she said curiously. "Yes, and a tiny note in ink." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment a little gift of vision was vouchsafed +to Jim Frobisher, born, no doubt, of his perplexities and +trouble. A curtain was rung up in his brain. He saw +no more than what was before him—the pretty group +about the table in the gold of the May morning, but it +was all made grim and terrible and the gold had withered +to a light that was grey and deathly and cold as the +grave. There were the two girls in the grace of their +beauty and their youth, daintily tended, fastidiously +dressed, bending their shining curls over that plate of the +poison arrows like pupils at a lecture. And the man +delivering the lecture, so close to them, with speech so +gentle, was implacably on the trail of murder, and maybe +even now looked upon one of these two girls as his +quarry; was even now perhaps planning to set her in +the dock of an Assize Court and send her out afterwards, +carried screaming and sobbing with terror in the first +grey of the morning to the hideous red engine erected +during the night before the prison gates. Jim saw +Hanaud the genial and friendly, as in some flawed mirror, +twisted into a sinister and terrifying figure. How could +he sit so close with them at the table, talk to them, point +them out this and that diagram in the plates, he being +human and knowing what he purposed. Jim broke in +upon the lecture with a cry of exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +"But this isn't a poison! This is a book about a poison. +The book can't kill!" +</p> + +<p> +At once Hanaud replied to him: +</p> + +<p> +"Can't it?" he cried sharply. "Listen to what Mademoiselle +said a minute ago. Below the hilt of this arrow +marked 'Figure F,' the Professor has written a tiny note." +</p> + +<p> +This particular arrow was a little different from the +others in the shape of its shaft. Just below the triangular +iron head the shaft expanded. It was as though the head +had been fitted into a bulb; as one sees sometimes wooden +penholders fine enough and tapering at the upper end, +and quite thick just above the nib. +</p> + +<p> +"'See page 37,'" said Hanaud, reading the Professor's +note, and he turned back the pages. +</p> + +<p> +"Page 37. Here we are!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud ran a finger half-way down the page and +stopped at a word in capitals. +</p> + +<p> +"Figure F." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud hitched his chair a little closer to the table; +Ann Upcott moved round the end of the table that she +might see the better; even Jim Frobisher found himself +stooping above Hanaud's shoulder. They were all +conscious of a queer tension; they were expectant like +explorers on the brink of a discovery. Whilst Hanaud read +the paragraph aloud, it seemed that no one breathed; and +this is what he read: +</p> + +<p> +"'Figure F is the representation of a poison arrow +which was lent to me by Simon Harlowe, Esq., of +Blackman's, Norfolk, and the Maison Crenelle at Dijon. It +was given to him by a Mr. John Carlisle, a trader on the +Shire River in the Kombe country, and is the most perfect +example of a poison arrow which I have seen. The +Strophanthus seed has been pounded up in water and mixed +with the reddish clay used by the Kombe natives, and +the compound is thickly smeared over the head of the +arrow shaft and over the actual iron dart except at the +point and the edges. The arrow is quite new and the +compound fresh.'" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud leaned back in his chair when he had come to +the end of this paragraph. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, Monsieur Frobisher, the question we have to +answer. Where is to-day Simon Harlowe's arrow?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty looked up into Hanaud's face. +</p> + +<p> +"If it is anywhere in this house, Monsieur, it should be +in the locked cabinet in my sitting-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Your sitting-room?" Hanaud exclaimed sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It is what we call the Treasure Room—half +museum, half living-room. My uncle Simon used it, +Madame too. It was their favourite room, full of curios +and beautiful things. But after Simon Harlowe died +Madame would never enter it. She locked the door which +communicated with her dressing-room, so that she might +never even in a moment of forgetfulness enter it. The +room has a door into the hall. She gave the room to +me." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's forehead cleared of its wrinkles. +</p> + +<p> +"I understand," he said. "And that room is sealed." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever seen the arrow, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not that I remember. I only looked into the cabinet +once. There are some horrible things hidden away +there"; and Betty shivered and shook the recollection of +them from her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"The chances are that it's not in the house at all, that +it never came back to the house," Frobisher argued +stubbornly. "The Professor in all probability would have +kept it." +</p> + +<p> +"If he could," Hanaud rejoined. "But it's out of all +probability that a collector of rare things would have +allowed him to keep it. No!" and he sat for a little time +in a muse. "Do you know what I am wondering?" he +asked at length, and then answered his own question. "I +am wondering whether after all Boris Waberski was not +in the street of Gambetta on the seventh of May and close, +very close, to the shop of Jean Cladel the herbalist." +</p> + +<p> +"Boris! Boris Waberski," cried Jim. Was he in +Hanaud's eyes the criminal? After all, why not? After +all, who more likely if criminal there was, since Boris +Waberski thought himself an inheritor under Mrs. Harlowe's +will? +</p> + +<p> +"I am wondering whether he was not doing that very +thing which he attributed to you, Mademoiselle Betty," +Hanaud continued. +</p> + +<p> +"Paying?" Betty cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Paying—or making excuses for not paying, which +is more probable, or recovering the poison arrow now +clean of its poison, which is most probable of all." +</p> + +<p> +At last Hanaud had made an end of his secrecies and +reticence. His suspicion, winged like the arrow in the +plate, was flying straight to this evident mark. Jim drew +a breath like a man waking from a nightmare; in all of +that small company a relaxation was visible; Ann Upcott +drew away from the table; Betty said softly as though +speaking to herself, "Monsieur Boris! Monsieur Boris! +Oh, I never thought of that!" and, to Jim's admiration +there was actually a note of regret in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +It was audible, too, to Hanaud, since he answered with +a smile: +</p> + +<p> +"But you must bring yourself to think of it, Mademoiselle. +After all, he was not so gentle with you that you +need show him so much good will." +</p> + +<p> +A slight rush of colour tinged Betty's cheeks. Jim +was not quite sure that a tiny accent of irony had not +pointed Hanaud's words. +</p> + +<p> +"I saw him sitting here," she replied quickly, "half an +hour ago—abject—in tears—a man!" She shrugged her +shoulders with a gesture of distaste. "I wish him +nothing worse. I was satisfied." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled again with a curious amusement, an +appreciation which Frobisher was quite at a loss to +understand. But he had from time to time received an +uneasy impression that a queer little secret duel was all +this while being fought by Betty Harlowe and Hanaud +underneath the smooth surface of questions and answers—a +duel in which now one, now the other of the combatants +got some trifling scratch. This time it seemed +Betty was hurt. +</p> + +<p> +"You are satisfied, Mademoiselle, but the Law is not," +Hanaud returned. "Boris Waberski expected a legacy. +Boris Waberski needed money immediately, as the first +of the two letters which he wrote to Monsieur Frobisher's +firm clearly shows. Boris Waberski had a motive." He +looked from one to the other of his audience with a nod +to drive the point home. "Motives, no doubt, are signposts +rather difficult to read, and if one reads them amiss, +they lead one very wide astray. Granted! But you +must look for your signposts all the same and try to read +them aright. Listen again to the Professor of Medicine +in the University of Edinburgh! He is as precise as a +man can be." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's eyes fell again upon the description of +Figure F in the treatise still open upon the table in front +of him. +</p> + +<p> +"The arrow was the best specimen of a poison arrow +which he had ever come across. The poison paste was +thickly and smoothly spread over the arrow head and +some inches of the shaft. The arrow was unused and the +poison fresh, and these poisons retain their energy for +many, many years. I tell you that if this book and this +arrow were handed over to Jean Cladel, Herbalist, Jean +Cladel could with ease make a solution in alcohol which +injected from a hypodermic needle, would cause death +within fifteen minutes and leave not one trace." +</p> + +<p> +"Within fifteen minutes?" Betty asked incredulously, +and from the arm-chair against the wall, where Ann +Upcott had once more seated herself, there broke a +startled exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" she cried, but no one took any notice of her +at all. Both Jim and Betty had their eyes fixed upon +Hanaud, and he was altogether occupied in driving his +argument home. +</p> + +<p> +"Within fifteen minutes? How do you know?" cried Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"It is written here, in the book." +</p> + +<p> +"And where would Jean Cladel have learnt to handle +the paste with safety, how to prepare the solution?" Jim +went on. +</p> + +<p> +"Here! Here! Here!" answered Hanaud, tapping +with his knuckles upon the treatise. "It is all written +out here—experiment after experiment made upon living +animals and the action of the poison measured and +registered by minutes. Oh, given a man with a working +knowledge of chemicals such as Jean Cladel must possess, +and the result is certain." +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe leaned forward again over the book and +Hanaud turned it half round between them, so that both, +by craning their heads, could read. He turned the pages +back to the beginning and passed them quickly in review. +</p> + +<p> +"See, Mademoiselle, the time tables. Strophanthus +constricts the muscles of the heart like digitalis, only much +more violently, much more swiftly. See the contractions +of the heart noted down minute after minute, until the +moment of death and all—here is the irony!—so that by +means of these experiments, the poison may be transformed +into a medicine and the weapon of death become +an agent of life—as in good hands, it has happened." Hanaud +leaned back and contemplated Betty Harlowe between +his half-closed eyes. "That is wonderful, Mademoiselle. +What do you think?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty slowly closed the book. +</p> + +<p> +"I think, Monsieur Hanaud," she said, "it is no less +wonderful that you should have studied this book so +thoroughly during the half-hour you waited for us here this +morning." +</p> + +<p> +It was Hanaud's turn to change colour. The blood +mounted into his face. He was for a second or two quite +disconcerted. Jim once more had a glimpse of the secret +duel and rejoiced that this time it was Hanaud, the great +Hanaud, who was scratched. +</p> + +<p> +"The study of poisons is particularly my work," he +answered shortly. "Even at the Sûrété we have to +specialise nowadays," and he turned rather quickly towards +Frobisher. "You are thoughtful, Monsieur?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim was following out his own train of thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered. Then he spoke to Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Boris Waberski had a latch-key, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she replied. +</p> + +<p> +"He took it away with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think so." +</p> + +<p> +"When are the iron gates locked?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is the last thing Gaston does before he goes to bed." +</p> + +<p> +Jim's satisfaction increased with every answer he received. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, Monsieur Hanaud," he cried, "all this while +we have been leaving out a question of importance. Who +put this book back upon its shelf? And when? Yesterday +at noon the space was empty. This morning it is +filled. Who filled it? Last night we sat in the garden +after dinner behind the house. What could have been +easier than for Waberski to slip in with his latch-key at +some moment when the court was empty, replace the book +and slip out again unnoticed? Why——" +</p> + +<p> +A gesture of Betty's brought him to a halt. +</p> + +<p> +"Unnoticed? Impossible!" she said bitterly. "The +police have a <i>sergent-de-ville</i> at our gates, night and day." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"He is there no longer. After you were good enough +to answer me so frankly yesterday morning the questions +it was my duty to put to you, I had him removed at +once." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that's true," Jim exclaimed joyfully. He +remembered now that when he had driven up with his +luggage from the hotel in the afternoon, the street of +Charles-Robert had been quite empty. Betty Harlowe +stood taken aback by her surprise. Then a smile made +her face friendly; her eyes danced to the smile, and she +dipped to the detective a little mock curtsy. But her voice +was warm with gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you, Monsieur. I did not notice yesterday +that the man had been removed, or I should have thanked +you before. Indeed I was not looking for so much +consideration at your hands. As I told my friend Jim, I +believed that you went away thinking me guilty." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud raised a hand in protest. To Jim it was the +flourish of the sword with which the duellist saluted at +the end of the bout. The little secret combat between +these two was over. Hanaud, by removing the sergeant +from before the gates, had given a sign surely not only +to Betty but to all Dijon that he found nothing to justify +any surveillance of her goings out and comings in, or +any limitations upon her freedom. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you see," Jim insisted. He was still worrying at +his solution of the case like a dog with a bone. "You +see Waberski had the road clear for him last night." +</p> + +<p> +Betty, however, would not have it. She shook her head +vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't believe that Monsieur Boris is guilty of so +horrible a murder. More," and she turned her great eyes +pleadingly upon Hanaud, "I don't believe that any murder +was committed here at all. I don't want to believe it," +and for a moment her voice faltered. +</p> + +<p> +"After all, Monsieur Hanaud, what are you building +this dreadful theory upon? That a book of my Uncle +Simon was not in his library yesterday and is there +to-day. We know nothing more. We don't know even +whether Jean Cladel exists at all." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall know that, Mademoiselle, very soon," said +Hanaud, staring down at the book upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +"We don't know whether the arrow is in the house, +whether it ever was." +</p> + +<p> +"We must make sure, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud +stubbornly. +</p> + +<p> +"And even if you had it now, here with the poison +clinging in shreds to the shaft, you still couldn't be sure +that the rest of it had been used. Here is a report, +Monsieur, from the doctors. Because it says that no trace +of the poison can be discovered, you can't infer that a +poison was administered which leaves no trace. You +never can prove it. You have nothing to go upon. It's +all guesswork, and guesswork which will keep us living in +a nightmare. Oh, if I thought for a moment that murder +had been committed, I'd say, 'Go on, go on'! But it +hasn't. Oh, it hasn't!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty's voice rang with so evident a sincerity, there +was so strong a passion of appeal, for peace, for an +end of suspicion, for a right to forget and be forgotten, +that Jim fancied no man could resist it. Indeed, Hanaud +sat for a long while with his eyes bent upon the table +before he answered her. But when at last he did, gently +though his voice began, Jim knew at once that she had +lost. +</p> + +<p> +"You argue and plead very well, Mademoiselle Betty," +he said. "But we have each of us our little creeds by +which we live for better or for worse. Here is mine, a +very humble one. I can discover extenuations in most +crimes: even crimes of violence. Passion, anger, even +greed! What are they but good qualities developed +beyond the bounds? Things at the beginning good and +since grown monstrous! So, too, in the execution. This +or that habit of life makes natural this or that weapon +which to us is hideous and abnormal and its mere use a +sign of a dreadful depravity. Yes, I recognise these +palliations. But there is one crime I never will +forgive—murder by poison. And one criminal in whose pursuit +I will never tire nor slacken, the Poisoner." Through the +words there ran a real thrill of hatred, and though +Hanaud's voice was low, and he never once raised his +eyes from the table, he held the three who listened to him +in a dreadful spell. +</p> + +<p> +"Cowardly and secret, the poisoner has his little world +at his mercy, and a fine sort of mercy he shows to be +sure," he continued bitterly. "His hideous work is so +easy. It just becomes a vice like drink, no more than +that to the poisoner, but with a thousand times the pleasure +drink can give. Like the practice of some abominable +art. I tell you the truth now! Show me one victim +to-day and the poisoner scot-free, and I'll show you +another victim before the year's out. Make no mistake! +Make no mistake!" +</p> + +<p> +His voice rang out and died away. But the words +seemed still to vibrate in the air of that room, to strike +the walls and rebound from them and still be audible. +Jim Frobisher, for all his slow imagination, felt that had +a poisoner been present and heard them, some cry of +guilt must have rent the silence and betrayed him. His +heart stopped in its beats listening for a cry, though his +reason told him there was no mouth in that room from +which the cry could come. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked up at Betty when he had finished. He +begged her pardon with a little flutter of his hands and a +regretful smile. "You must take me, therefore, as God +made me, Mademoiselle, and not blame me more than +you can help for the distress I still must cause you. +There was never a case more difficult. Therefore never +one about which one way or the other I must be more +sure." +</p> + +<p> +Before Betty could reply there came a knock upon the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in," Hanaud cried out, and a small, dark, alert +man in plain clothes entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Nicolas Moreau, who was keeping watch in +the courtyard. I sent him some while ago upon an +errand," he explained and turned again to Moreau. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Nicolas?" +</p> + +<p> +Nicolas stood at attention, with his hands at the seams +of his trousers, in spite of his plain clothes, and he recited +rather than spoke in a perfectly expressionless official +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"In accordance with instructions I went to the shop +of Jean Cladel. It is number seven. From the Rue +Gambetta I went to the Prefecture. I verified your +statement. Jean Cladel has twice appeared before the Police +Correctionelle for selling forbidden drugs and has twice +been acquitted owing to the absence of necessary witnesses." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Nicolas." +</p> + +<p> +Moreau saluted, turned on his heel, and went out of +the room. There followed a moment of silence, of +discouragement. Hanaud looked ruefully at Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"You see! I must go on. We must search in that +locked cabinet of Simon Harlowe's for the poison arrow, +if by chance it should be there." +</p> + +<p> +"The room is sealed," Frobisher reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +"We must have those seals removed," he replied, and +he took his watch from his pocket and screwed up his +face in grimace. +</p> + +<p> +"We need Monsieur the Commissary, and Monsieur the +Commissary will not be in a good humour if we disturb +him now. For it is twelve o'clock, the sacred hour of +luncheon. You will have observed upon the stage that +Commissaries of Police are never in a good humour. It +is because——" But Hanaud's audience was never to +hear his explanation of this well-known fact. For he +stopped with a queer jerk of his voice, his watch still +dangling from his fingers upon its chain. Both Jim and +Betty looked at once where he was looking. They saw +Ann Upcott standing up against the wall with her hand +upon the top rail of a chair to prevent herself from +falling. Her eyes were closed, her whole face a mask +of misery. Hanaud was at her side in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle," he asked with a breathless sort of +eagerness, "what is it you have to tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is true, then?" she whispered. "Jean Cladel +exists?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And the poison arrow could have been used?" she +faltered, and the next words would not be spoken, but +were spoken at the last. "And death would have +followed in fifteen minutes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my oath it is true," Hanaud insisted. "What +is it you have to tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +"That I could have hindered it all. I shall never +forgive myself. I could have hindered the murder." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's eyes narrowed as he watched the girl. Was +he disappointed, Frobisher wondered? Did he expect +quite another reply? A swift movement by Betty +distracted him from these questions. He saw Betty looking +across the room at them with the strangest glittering eyes +he had ever seen. And then Ann Upcott drew herself +away from Hanaud and stood up against the wall at her +full height with her arms outstretched. She seemed to +be setting herself apart as a pariah; her whole attitude +and posture cried, "Stone me! I am waiting." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud put his watch into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, we will let the Commissary eat his +luncheon in peace, and we will hear your story first. But +not here. In the garden under the shade of the trees." He +took his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. "Indeed +I too feel the heat. This room is as hot as an oven." +</p> + +<p> +When Jim Frobisher looked back in after time upon +the incidents of that morning, nothing stood out so vividly +in his memories, no, not even the book of arrows and its +plates, not Hanaud's statement of his creed, as the picture +of him twirling his watch at the end of his chain, whilst +it sparkled in the sunlight and he wondered whether +he should break in now upon the Commissaire of Police +or let him eat his luncheon in quiet. So much that was +then unsuspected by them all, hung upon the exact +sequence of events. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER NINE: <i>The Secret</i> +</h3> + +<p> +The garden chairs were already set out upon a lawn +towards the farther end of the garden in the shadow +of the great trees. Hanaud led the way towards them. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be in the cool here and with no one to +overhear us but the birds," he said, and he patted and +arranged the cushions in a deep arm-chair of basket work +for Ann Upcott. Jim Frobisher was reminded again of +the solicitude of a doctor with an invalid and again the +parallel jarred upon him. But he was getting a clearer +insight into the character of this implacable being. The +little courtesies and attentions were not assumed. They +were natural, but they would not hinder him for a +moment in his pursuit. He would arrange the cushions with +the swift deft hands of a nurse—yes, but he would slip +the handcuffs on the wrists of his invalid, a moment +afterwards, no less deftly and swiftly, if thus his duty +prompted him. +</p> + +<p> +"There!" he said. "Now, Mademoiselle, you are +comfortable. For me, if I am permitted, I shall smoke." +</p> + +<p> +He turned round to ask for permission of Betty, who +with Jim had followed into the garden behind him. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," she answered; and coming forward, she +sat down in another of the chairs. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud pulled out of a pocket a bright blue bundle of +thin black cigarettes and lit one. Then he sat in a chair +close to the two girls. Jim Frobisher stood behind +Hanaud. The lawn was dappled with sunlight and cool +shadows. The blackbird and the thrush were calling from +bough and bush, the garden was riotous with roses and +the air sweet with their perfume. It was a strange +setting for the eerie story which Ann Upcott had to tell of +her adventures in the darkness and silence of a night; but +the very contrast seemed to make the story still more +vivid. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not go to Monsieur de Pouillac's Ball on the +night of April the 27th," she began, and Jim started, so +that Hanaud raised his hand to prevent him interrupting. +He had not given a thought to where Ann Upcott had +been upon that night. To Hanaud, however, the +statement brought no surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"You were not well?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"It wasn't that," Ann replied. "But Betty and I had—I +won't say a rule, but a sort of working arrangement +which I think had been in practice ever since I came to +the Maison Crenelle. We didn't encroach upon each +other's independence." +</p> + +<p> +The two girls had recognised from their first coming +together that privacy was the very salt of companionship. +Each had a sanctuary in her own sitting-room. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think Betty has ever been in mine, I only once +or twice in hers," said Ann. "We had each our own +friends. We didn't pester each other with questions as +to where we had been and with whom. In a word, we +weren't all the time shadows upon each other's heels." +</p> + +<p> +"A wise rule, Mademoiselle," Hanaud agreed cordially. +"A good many households are split from roof to cellar +by the absence of just such a rule. The de Pouillacs then +were Mademoiselle Betty's friends." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. As soon as Betty had gone," Ann resumed, +"I told Gaston that he might turn off the lights and go +to bed whenever he liked; and I went upstairs to my own +sitting-room, which is next to my bedroom. You can see +the windows from here. There!" +</p> + +<p> +They were in a group facing the back of the long house +across the garden. To the right of the hall stretched the +line of shuttered windows, with Betty's bedroom just +above. Ann pointed to the wing on the left of the hall +and towards the road. +</p> + +<p> +"I see. You are above the library, Mademoiselle," said +Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I had a letter to write," Ann continued, and +suddenly faltered. She had come upon some obstacle in +the telling of her story which she had forgotten when +she had uttered her cry in the library. She gasped. +"Oh!" she murmured, and again "Oh!" in a low voice. +She glanced anxiously at Betty, but she got no help from +her at all. Betty was leaning forward with her elbows +upon her knees and her eyes on the grass at her feet and +apparently miles away in thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mademoiselle," Hanaud asked smoothly. +</p> + +<p> +"It was an important letter," Ann went on again, +choosing her words warily, much as yesterday at one +moment in her interrogatory Betty herself had +done—concealing something, too, just as Betty had done. "I +had promised faithfully to write it. But the address was +downstairs in Betty's room. It was the address of a +doctor," and having said that, it seemed that she had +cleared her obstacle, for she went on in a more easy and +natural tone. +</p> + +<p> +"You know what it is, Monsieur Hanaud. I had been +playing tennis all the afternoon. I was pleasantly tired. +There was a letter to be written with a good deal of care +and the address was all the way downstairs. I said to +myself that I would think out the terms of my letter +first." +</p> + +<p> +And here Jim Frobisher, who had been shifting impatiently +from one foot to the other, broke in upon the +narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"But what was this letter about and to what doctor?" +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud swung round almost angrily. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, please!" he cried. "These things will all come to +light of themselves in their due order, if we leave them +alone and keep them in our memories. Let Mademoiselle +tell her story in her own way," and he was back at +Ann Upcott again in a flash. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mademoiselle. You determined to think out the +tenor of your letter." +</p> + +<p> +A hint of a smile glimmered upon the girl's face for a +second. "But it was an excuse really, an excuse to sit +down in my big arm-chair, stretch out my legs and do +nothing at all. You can guess what happened." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled and nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"You fell fast asleep. Conscience does not keep young +people, who are healthy and tired, awake," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"No, but it wakes up with them," Ann returned, "and +upbraids at once bitterly. I woke up rather chilly, as +people do who have gone to sleep in their chairs. I was +wearing a little thin frock of pale blue tulle—oh, a +feather-weight of a frock! Yes, I was cold and my conscience +was saying, 'Oh, big lazy one! And your letter? Where +is it?' +</p> + +<p> +"In a moment I was standing up and the next I was +out of the room on the landing, and I was still half dazed +with sleep. I closed my door behind me. It was just +chance that I did it. The lights were all out on the +staircase and in the hall below. The curtains were drawn +across the windows. There was no moon that night. I +was in a darkness so complete that I could not see the +glimmer of my hand when I raised it close before my +face." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud let the end of his cigarette drop at his feet. +Betty had raised her face and was staring at Ann with +her mouth parted. For all of them the garden had +disappeared with its sunlight and its roses and its singing +birds. They were upon that staircase with Ann Upcott +in the black night. The swift changes of colour in her +cheeks and of expression in her eyes—the nervous +vividness of her compelled them to follow with her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mademoiselle?" said Hanaud quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"The darkness didn't matter to me," she went on, with +an amazement at her own fearlessness, now that she +knew the after-history of that evening. "I am afraid +now. I wasn't then," and Jim remembered how the night +before in the garden her eyes had shifted from this dark +spot to that in search of an intruder. Certainly she was +afraid now! Her hands were clenched tight upon the +arms of her chair, her lips shook. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew every tread of the stairs. My hand was on +the balustrade. There was no sound. It never occurred +to me that any one was awake except myself. I did +not even turn on the light in the hall by the switch at +the bottom of the stairs. I knew that there was a switch +just inside the door of Betty's room, and that was enough. +I think, too, that I didn't want to rouse anybody. At the +foot of the stairs I turned right like a soldier. Exactly +opposite to me across the hall was the door of Betty's +room. I crossed the hall with my hands out in front of +me," and Betty, as though she herself were crossing the +hall, suddenly thrust both her hands out in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, one would have to do that," she said slowly. "In +the dark—with nothing but space in front of one—— Yes!" +and then she smiled as she saw that Hanaud's eyes +were watching her curiously. "Don't you think so, +Monsieur Hanaud?" +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt," said he. "But let us not interrupt Mademoiselle." +</p> + +<p> +"I touched the wall first," Ann resumed, "just at the +angle of the corridor and the hall." +</p> + +<p> +"The corridor with the windows on to the courtyard +on the one side and the doors of the receptions on the +other?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Were the curtains drawn across all those windows too, +Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. There was not a glimmer of light anywhere. I +felt my way along the wall to my right—that is, in the +hall, of course, not the corridor—until my hands slipped +off the surface and touched nothing. I had reached the +embrasure of the doorway. I felt for the door-knob, +turned it and entered the room. The light switch was in +the wall at the side of the door, close to my left hand. I +snapped it down. I think that I was still half asleep when +I turned the light on in the treasure-room, as we called +it. But the next moment I was wide awake—oh, I have +never been more wide awake in my life. My fingers +indeed were hardly off the switch after turning the light +on, before they were back again turning the light off. But +this time I eased the switch up very carefully, so that +there should be no snap—no, not the tiniest sound to +betray me. There was so short an interval between the +two movements of my hand that I had just time to notice +the clock on the top of the marquetry cabinet in the +middle of the wall opposite to me, and then once more I +stood in darkness, but stock still and holding my breath—a +little frightened—yes, no doubt a little frightened, but +more astonished than frightened. For in the inner wall +of the room, at the other end, close by the window, +there,"—and Ann pointed to the second of those shuttered +windows which stared so blankly on the garden—"the door +which was always locked since Simon Harlowe's death +stood open and a bright light burned beyond." +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe uttered a little cry. +</p> + +<p> +"That door?" she exclaimed, now at last really +troubled. "It stood open? How can that have been?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shifted his position in his chair, and asked her +a question. +</p> + +<p> +"On which side of the door was the key, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"On Madame's, if the key was in the lock at all." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! You don't remember whether it was?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Betty. "Of course both Ann and I were +in and out of Madame's bedroom when she was ill, but +there was a dressing-room between the bedroom and the +communicating door of my room, so that we should not +have noticed." +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure," Hanaud agreed. "The dressing-room in +which the nurse might have slept and did when Madame +had a seizure. Do you remember whether the communicating +door was still open or unlocked on the next +morning?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty frowned and reflected, and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot remember. We were all in great trouble. +There was so much to do. I did not notice." +</p> + +<p> +"No. Indeed why should you?" said Hanaud. He +turned back to Ann. "Before you go on with this curious +story, Mademoiselle, tell me this! Was the light beyond +the open door, a light in the dressing-room or in the room +beyond the dressing-room, Madame Harlowe's bedroom, +or didn't you notice?" +</p> + +<p> +"In the far room, I think," Ann answered confidently. +"There would have been more light in the treasure-room +otherwise. The treasure-room is long no doubt, but +where I stood I was completely in darkness. There was +only this panel of yellow light in the open doorway. It +lay in a band straight across the carpet and it lit up the +sedan chair opposite the doorway until it all glistened +like silver." +</p> + +<p> +"Oho, there is a sedan chair in that museum?" said +Hanaud lightly. "It will be interesting to see. So the +light, Mademoiselle, came from the far room?" +</p> + +<p> +"The light and—and the voices," said Ann with a +quaver in her throat. +</p> + +<p> +"Voices!" cried Hanaud. He sat up straight in his +chair, whilst Betty Harlowe went as white as a ghost. +"Voices! What is this? Did you recognise those +voices?" +</p> + +<p> +"One, Madame's. There was no mistaking it. It was +loud and violent for a moment. Then it went off into +a mumble of groans. The other voice only spoke once +and very few words and very clearly. But it spoke in +a whisper. There was too a sound of—movements." +</p> + +<p> +"Movements!" said Hanaud sharply; and with his +voice his face seemed to sharpen too. "Here's a word +which does not help us much. A procession moves. So +does the chair if I push it. So does my hand if I cover +a mouth and stop a cry. Is it that sort of movement you +mean, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +Under the stern insistence of his questions Ann Upcott +suddenly weakened. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am afraid so," she said with a loud cry, and she +clapped her hands to her face. "I never understood until +this morning when you spoke of how the arrow might +be used. Oh, I shall never forgive myself. I stood in +the darkness, a few yards away—no more—I stood quite +still and listened and just beyond the lighted doorway +Madame was being killed!" She drew her hands from +her face and beat upon her knees with her clenched fists +in a frenzy. +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes, I believe that now!' Madame cried in the hoarse, +harsh voice we knew: 'Stripped, eh? Stripped to the +skin!' and she laughed wildly; and then came the sound, +as though—yes, it might have been that!—as though she +were forced down and held, and Madame's voice died to +a mumble and then silence—and then the other voice in a +low clear whisper, 'That will do now.' And all the +while I stood in the darkness—oh!" +</p> + +<p> +"What did you do after that clear whisper reached your +ears?" Hanaud commanded. "Take your hands from +your face, if you please, and let me hear." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott obeyed him. She flung her head back with +the tears streaming down her face. +</p> + +<p> +"I turned," she whispered. "I went out of the room. +I closed the door behind me—oh, ever so gently. I +fled." +</p> + +<p> +"Fled? Fled? Where to?" +</p> + +<p> +"Up the stairs! To my room." +</p> + +<p> +"And you rang no bell? You roused no one? You +fled to your room! You hid your head under the +bed-clothes like a child! Come, come, Mademoiselle!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud broke off his savage irony to ask, +</p> + +<p> +"And whose voice did you think it was that whispered +so clearly, 'That will do now?' The stranger's you spoke +of in the library this morning?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Monsieur," Ann replied. "I could not tell. With +a whisper one voice is like another." +</p> + +<p> +"But you must have given that voice an owner. To +run away and hide—no one would do that." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought it was Jeanne Baudin's." +</p> + +<p> +And Hanaud sat back in his chair again, gazing at +the girl with a look in which there was as much horror as +incredulity. Jim Frobisher stood behind him ashamed +of his very race. Could there be a more transparent +subterfuge? If she thought that the nurse Jeanne Baudin +was in the bedroom, why did she turn and fly? +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud. His voice had +suddenly become gentle, almost pleading. "You will not +make me believe that." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott turned with a helpless gesture towards +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"You see!" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Betty answered. She sat in doubt for a second +or two and then sprang to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait!" she said, and before any one could have +stopped her she was skimming half-way across the garden +to the house. Jim Frobisher wondered whether Hanaud +had meant to stop her and then had given up the idea as +quite out of the question. Certainly he had made some +small quick movement; and even now, he watched Betty's +flight across the broad lawn between the roses with an +inscrutable queer look. +</p> + +<p> +"To run like that!" he said to Frobisher, "with a boy's +nimbleness and a girl's grace! It is pretty, eh? The long +slim legs that twinkle, the body that floats!" and Betty +ran up the stone steps into the house. +</p> + +<p> +There was a tension in Hanaud's attitude with which +his light words did not agree, and he watched the blank +windows of the house with expectancy. Betty, however, +was hardly a minute upon her errand. She reappeared +upon the steps with a largish envelope in her hand and +quickly rejoined the group. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, we have tried to keep this back from you," +she said, without bitterness but with a deep regret. "I +yesterday, Ann to-day, just as we have tried for many +years to keep it from all Dijon. But there is no help for +it now." +</p> + +<p> +She opened the envelope and, taking out a cabinet +photograph, handed it to Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the portrait of Madame, my aunt, at the time +of her marriage with my uncle." +</p> + +<p> +It was the three-quarter length portrait of a woman, +slender with the straight carriage of youth, in whose face +a look of character had replaced youth's prettiness. It +was a face made spiritual by suffering, the eyes shadowed +and wistful, the mouth tender, and conveying even in the +hard medium of a photograph some whimsical sense of +humour. It made Jim Frobisher, gazing over Hanaud's +shoulder, exclaim not "She was beautiful," but "I would +like to have known her." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! A companion," Hanaud added. +</p> + +<p> +Betty took a second photograph from the envelope. +</p> + +<p> +"But this, Monsieur, is the same lady a year ago." +</p> + +<p> +The second photograph had been taken at Monte Carlo, +and it was difficult to believe that it was of the same +woman, so tragic a change had taken place within those +ten years. Hanaud held the portraits side by side. The +grace, the suggestion of humour had all gone; the figure +had grown broad, the features coarse and heavy; the +cheeks had fattened, the lips were pendulous; and there +was nothing but violence in the eyes. It was a dreadful +picture of collapse. +</p> + +<p> +"It is best to be precise, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud +gently, "though these photographs tell their unhappy story +clearly enough. Madame Harlowe, during the last years +of her life, drank?" +</p> + +<p> +"Since my uncle's death," Betty explained. "Her life, +as very likely you know already, had been rather miserable +and lonely before she married him. But she had a +dream then on which to live. After Simon Harlowe died, +however——" and she ended her explanation with a +gesture. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Hanaud replied, "of course, Mademoiselle, we +have known, Monsieur Frobisher and I, ever since we +came into this affair that there was some secret. We +knew it before your reticence of yesterday or Mademoiselle +Upcott's of to-day. Waberski must have known of +something which you would not care to have exposed +before he threatened your lawyers in London, or brought +his charges against you." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he knew and the doctors and the servants of +course who were very loyal. We did our best to keep +our secret but we could never be sure that we had +succeeded." +</p> + +<p> +A friendly smile broadened Hanaud's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we can make sure now and here," he said, and +both the girls and Jim stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +"How?" they exclaimed in an incredulous voice. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud beamed. He held them in suspense. He +spread out his hands. The artist as he would have said, +the mountebank as Jim Frobisher would have expressed +it, had got the upper hand in him, and prepared his +effect. +</p> + +<p> +"By answering me one simple question," he said. +"Have either of you two ladies received an anonymous +letter upon the subject?" +</p> + +<p> +The test took them all by surprise; yet each one of +them recognised immediately that they could hardly have +a better. All the secrets of the town had been exploited +at one time or another by this unknown person or group +of persons—all the secrets that is, except this one of +Mrs. Harlowe's degradation. For Betty answered, +</p> + +<p> +"No! I never received one." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I," added Ann. +</p> + +<p> +"Then your secret is your secret still," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"For how long now?" Betty asked quickly, and Hanaud +did not answer a word. He could make no promise +without being false to what he had called his creed. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a pity," said Betty wistfully. "We have striven +so hard, Ann and I," and she gave to the two men a +glimpse of the life the two girls had led in the Maison +Crenelle. "We could do very little. We had neither of +us any authority. We were both of us dependent upon +Madame's generosity, and though no one could have +been kinder when—when Madame was herself, she was +not easy when she had—the attacks. There was too much +difference in age between us and her for us really to do +anything but keep guard. +</p> + +<p> +"She would not brook interference; she drank alone in +her bedroom; she grew violent and threatening if any +one interfered. She would turn them all into the street. +If she needed any help she could ring for the nurse, as +indeed she sometimes, though rarely, did." It was a +dreadful and wearing life as Betty Harlowe described it +for the two young sentinels. +</p> + +<p> +"We were utterly in despair," Betty continued. "For +Madame, of course, was really ill with her heart, and we +always feared some tragedy would happen. This letter +which Ann was to write when I was at Monsieur de +Pouillac's ball seemed our one chance. It was to a doctor +in England—he called himself a doctor at all events—who +advertised that he had a certain remedy which could +be given without the patient's knowledge in her food and +drink. Oh, I had no faith in it, but we had got to try it." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked round at Frobisher triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +"What did I say to you, Monsieur Frobisher, when you +wanted to ask a question about this letter? You see! +These things disclose themselves in their due order if you +leave them alone." +</p> + +<p> +The triumph went out of his voice. He rose to his +feet and, bowing to Betty with an unaffected stateliness +and respect, he handed her back the photographs. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, I am very sorry," he said. "It is clear +that you and your friend have lived amongst difficulties +which we did not suspect. And, for the secret, I shall do +what I can." +</p> + +<p> +Jim quite forgave him the snub which had been +administered to him for the excellence of his manner +towards Betty. He had a hope even that now he would +forswear his creed, so that the secret might still be kept +and the young sentinels receive their reward for their close +watch. But Hanaud sat down again in his chair, and +once more turned towards Ann Upcott. He meant to go +on then. He would not leave well alone. Jim was all +the more disappointed, because he could not but realise +that the case was more and more clearly building itself +from something unsubstantial into something solid, from +a conjecture to an argument—this case against some one. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TEN: <i>The Clock upon the Cabinet</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Ann Upcott's story was in the light of this new +disclosure intelligible enough. Standing in the darkness, +she had heard, as she thought, Mrs. Harlowe in one +of her violent outbreaks. Then with a sense of relief she +had understood that Jeanne Baudin the nurse was with +Mrs. Harlowe, controlling and restraining her and finally +administering some sedative. She had heard the outcries +diminish and cease and a final whisper from the nurse to +her patient or even perhaps to herself, "That will do +now." Then she had turned and fled, taking care to +attract no attention to herself. Real cowardice had nothing +to do with her flight. The crisis was over. Her +intervention, which before would only have been a provocation +to a wilder outburst on the part of Mrs. Harlowe, was +now altogether without excuse. It would once more have +aroused the invalid, and next day would have added to +the discomfort and awkwardness of life in the Maison +Crenelle. For Mrs. Harlowe sober would have known +that Ann had been a witness of one more of her dreadful +exhibitions. The best thing which Ann could do, she did, +given that her interpretation of the scene was the true one. +She ran noiselessly back in the darkness to her room. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Hanaud. "But you believe now that your +interpretation was not correct. You believe now that +whilst you stood in the darkness with the door open and +the light beyond, Madame Harlowe was being murdered, +coldly and cruelly murdered a few feet away from you." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott shivered from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to believe it," she cried. "It's too +horrible." +</p> + +<p> +"You believe now that the one who whispered 'That +will do now,' was not Jeanne Baudin," Hanaud insisted, +"but some unknown person, and that the whisper was +uttered after murder had been done to a third person +in that room." +</p> + +<p> +Ann twisted her body from this side to that; she wrung +her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid of it!" she moaned. +</p> + +<p> +"And what is torturing you now, Mademoiselle, is +remorse that you did not step silently forward and from +the darkness of the treasure-room look through that +lighted doorway." He spoke with a great consideration +and his insight into her distress was in its way a solace +to her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she exclaimed eagerly. "I told you this morning +I could have hindered it. I didn't understand until +this morning. You see, that night something else +happened"; and now indeed stark fear drew the colour from +her cheeks and shone in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Something else?" Betty asked with a quick indraw of +her breath, and she shifted her chair a little so that she +might face Ann. She was wearing a black coat over a +white silk shirt open at the throat, and she took her +handkerchief from a side pocket of the coat and drew it across +her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mademoiselle," Hanaud explained. "It is clear +that something else happened that night to your friend, +something which, taken together with our talk this +morning over the book of arrows, had made her believe that +murder was done." He looked at Ann. "You went +then to your room?" +</p> + +<p> +Ann resumed her story. +</p> + +<p> +"I went to bed. I was very—what shall I say?—disturbed +by Madame's outburst, as I thought it. One +never knew what was going to happen in this house. It +was on my nerves. For a time I tumbled from side to +side in my bed. I was in a fever. Then suddenly I was +asleep, sound asleep. But only for a time. I woke up +and it was still pitch dark in my room. There was not +a thread of light from the shutters. I turned over from +my side on to my back and I stretched out my arms +above my head. As God is my Judge I touched a +face——" and even after all these days the terror of that +moment was so vivid and fresh to her that she shuddered +and a little sob broke from her lips. "A face quite close +to me bending over me, in silence. I drew my hands +away with a gasp. My heart was in my throat. I lay +just for a second or two dumb, paralysed. Then my +voice came back to me and I screamed." +</p> + +<p> +It was the look of the girl as she told her story +perhaps more than the words she used; but something of her +terror spread like a contagion amongst her hearers. Jim +Frobisher's shoulders worked uneasily. Betty with her +big eyes wide open, her breath suspended, hung upon +Ann's narrative. Hanaud himself said: +</p> + +<p> +"You screamed? I do not wonder." +</p> + +<p> +"I knew that no one could hear me and that lying down +I was helpless," Ann continued. "I sprang out of bed +in a panic, and now I touched no one. I was so scared out +of my wits that I had lost all sense of direction. I +couldn't find the switch of the electric light. I stumbled +along a wall feeling with my hands. I heard myself +sobbing as though I was a stranger. At last I knocked +against a chest of drawers and came a little to myself. +I found my way then to the switch and turned on the +light. The room was empty. I tried to tell myself that +I had been dreaming, but I knew that the tale wasn't +true. Some one had been stealthily bending down close, +oh, so close over me in the darkness. My hand that had +touched the face seemed to tingle. I asked myself with +a shiver, what would have happened to me if just at that +moment I had not waked up? I stood and listened, but +the beating of my heart filled the whole room with noise. +I stole to the door and laid my ear against the panel. Oh, +I could easily have believed that one after another an +army was creeping on tiptoe past my door. At last I +made up my mind. I flung the door open wide. For a +moment I stood back from it, but once the door was +open I heard nothing. I stole out to the head of the +great staircase. Below me the hall was as silent as an +empty church. I think that I should have heard a spider +stir. I suddenly realised that the light was streaming +from my room and that some of it must reach me. I +cried at once, 'Who's there?' And then I ran back to my +room and locked myself in. I knew that I should sleep +no more that night. I ran to the windows and threw open +the shutters. The night had cleared, the stars were bright +in a clean black sky and there was a freshness of morning +in the air. I had been, I should think, about five +minutes at the window when—you know perhaps, Monsieur, +how the clocks in Dijon clash out and take up the +hour from one another and pass it on to the hills—all of +them struck three. I stayed by the window until the +morning came." +</p> + +<p> +After she had finished no one spoke for a little while. +Then Hanaud slowly lit another cigarette, looking now +upon the ground, now into the air, anywhere except at the +faces of his companions. +</p> + +<p> +"So this alarming thing happened just before three +o'clock in the morning?" he asked gravely. "You are +very sure of that, I suppose? For, you see, it may be +of the utmost importance." +</p> + +<p> +"I am quite sure, Monsieur," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"And you have told this story to no one until this +moment?" +</p> + +<p> +"To no one in the world," replied Ann. "The next +morning Madame Harlowe was found dead. There were +the arrangements for the funeral. Then came Monsieur +Boris's accusation. There were troubles enough in the +house without my adding to them. Besides, no one would +have believed my story of the face in the darkness; and +I didn't of course associate it then with the death of +Mrs. Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +"No," Hanaud agreed. "For you believed that death +to have been natural." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and I am not sure that it wasn't natural now," +Ann protested. "But to-day I had to tell you this story, +Monsieur Hanaud"; and she leaned forward in her chair +and claimed his attention with her eyes, her face, every +tense muscle of her body. "Because if you are right and +murder was done in this house on the twenty-seventh, I +know the exact hour when it was done." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded his head once or twice slowly. He +gathered up his feet beneath him. His eyes glittered very +brightly as he looked at Ann. He gave Frobisher the +queer impression of an animal crouching to spring. +</p> + +<p> +"The clock upon the marquetry cabinet," he said, +"against the middle of the wall in the treasure-room. +The white face of it and the hour which leapt at you +during that fraction of a second when your fingers were +on the switch." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Ann with a slow and quiet emphasis. "The +hour was half-past ten." +</p> + +<p> +With that statement the tension was relaxed. Betty's +tightly-clenched hand opened and her trifle of a +handkerchief fluttered down on the grass. Hanaud changed +from that queer attitude of a crouching animal. Jim +Frobisher drew a great breath of relief. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that is very important," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"Important. I should think it was!" cried Jim. +</p> + +<p> +For this was clear and proven to him. If murder had +been done on the night of the 27th of April, there was +just one person belonging to the household of the Maison +Crenelle who could have no share in it; and that one +person was his client, Betty Harlowe. +</p> + +<p> +Betty was stooping to pick up her handkerchief when +Hanaud spoke to her; and she drew herself erect again +with a little jerk. +</p> + +<p> +"Does that clock on the marquetry cabinet keep good +time, Mademoiselle?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Very good," she answered. "Monsieur Sabin the +watch-maker in the Rue de la Liberté has had it more +than once to clean. It is an eight-day clock. It will be +going when the seals are broken this afternoon. You will +see for yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud, however, accepted her declaration on the spot. +He rose to his feet and bowed to her with a certain +formality but with a smile which redeemed it. +</p> + +<p> +"At half-past ten Mademoiselle Harlowe was dancing +at the house of M. de Pouillac on the Boulevard Thiers," +he said. "Of that there is no doubt. Inquiries have been +made. Mademoiselle did not leave that house until after +one in the morning. There is evidence enough of that +to convince her worst enemy, from her chauffeur and her +dancing partners to M. de Pouillac's coachman, who stood +at the bottom of the steps with a lantern during that +evening and remembers to have held open for Mademoiselle +the door of her car when she went away." +</p> + +<p> +"So that's that," said Jim to himself. Betty at all +events was out of the net for good. And with that +certainty there came a revolution in his thoughts. Why +shouldn't Hanaud's search go on? It was interesting to +watch the building up of this case against an unknown +criminal—a case so difficult to bring to its proper +conclusion in the Court of Assize, a case of poison where there +was no trace of poison, a case where out of a mass of +conjectures, here and there and more and more definite +facts were coming into view; just as more and more +masts of ships stand up out of a tumbled sea, the nearer +one approaches land. Yes, now he wanted Hanaud to +go on, delving astutely, letting, in his own phrase, things +disclose themselves in their due sequence. But there +was one point which Hanaud had missed, which should +be brought to his notice. The mouse once more, he +thought with all a man's vanity in his modesty, would +come to the help of the netted lion. He cleared his +throat. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Ann, there is one little question I would like to +ask you," he began, and Hanaud turned upon him, to his +surprise, with a face of thunder. +</p> + +<p> +"You wish to ask a question?" he said. "Well, +Monsieur, ask it if you wish. It is your right." +</p> + +<p> +His manner added, what his voice left unsaid, "and +your responsibility." Jim hesitated. He could see no +harm in the question he proposed to ask. It was of vital +importance. Yet Hanaud stood in front of him with a +lowering face, daring him to put it. Jim did not doubt +any longer that Hanaud was quite aware of his point +and yet for some unknown reason objected to its +disclosure. Jim yielded, but not with a very good grace. +</p> + +<p> +"It is nothing," he said surlily, and Hanaud at once +was all cheerfulness again. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we will adjourn," he said, looking at his watch. +"It is nearly one o'clock. Shall we say three for the +Commissary of Police? Yes? Then I shall inform him +and we will meet in the library at three and"—with a +little bow to Betty—"the interdict shall be raised." +</p> + +<p> +"At three, then," she said gaily. She sprang up from +her chair, stooped, picked up her handkerchief with a +swift and supple movement, twirled upon her heel and +cried, "Come along, Ann!" +</p> + +<p> +The four people moved off towards the house. Betty +looked back. +</p> + +<p> +"You have left your gloves behind you on your chair," +she said suddenly to Hanaud. Hanaud looked back. +</p> + +<p> +"So I have," he said, and then in a voice of protest, +"Oh, Mademoiselle!" +</p> + +<p> +For Betty had already darted back and now returned +dangling the gloves in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, how shall I thank you?" he asked as +he took them from her. Then he cocked his head at +Frobisher, who was looking a little stiff. +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! ha! my young friend," he said with a grin. "You +do not like that so much kindness should be shown me. +No! You are looking very proper. You have the poker +in the back. But ask yourself this: 'What are youth +and good looks compared with Hanaud?'" +</p> + +<p> +No, Jim Frobisher did not like Hanaud at all when +the urchin got the upper hand in him. And the worst +of it was that he had no rejoinder. He flushed very +red, but he really had no rejoinder. They walked in +silence to the house, and Hanaud, picking up his hat and +stick, took his leave by the courtyard and the big gates. +Ann drifted into the library. Jim felt a touch upon his +arm. Betty was standing beside him with a smile of +amusement upon her face. +</p> + +<p> +"You didn't really mind my going back for his gloves, +did you?" she asked. "Say you didn't, Jim!" and the +amusement softened into tenderness. "I wouldn't have +done it for worlds if I had thought you'd have minded." +</p> + +<p> +Jim's ill-humour vanished like mist on a summer morning. +</p> + +<p> +"Mind?" he cried. "You shall pin a rose in his button-hole +if it pleases you, and all I'll say will be, 'You might +do the same for me'!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty laughed and gave his arm a friendly squeeze. +</p> + +<p> +"We are friends again, then," she said, and the next +moment she was out on the steps under the glass face of +the porch. "Lunch at two, Ann!" she cried. "I must +walk all the grime of this morning out of my brain." +</p> + +<p> +She was too quick and elusive for Jim Frobisher. She +had something of Ariel in her conception—a delicate +creature of fire and spirit and air. She was across the +courtyard and out of sight in the street of Charles-Robert +before he had quite realised that she was going. He +turned doubtfully towards the library, where Ann Upcott +stood in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"I had better follow her," he said, reaching for his hat +</p> + +<p> +Ann smiled and shook her head wisely. +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't. I know Betty. She wants to be alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think so?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure." +</p> + +<p> +Jim twiddled his hat in his hands, not half as sure upon +the point as she was. Ann watched him with a rather +rueful smile for a little while. Then she shrugged her +shoulders in a sudden exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +"There is something you ought to do," she said. "You +ought to let Monsieur Bex, Betty's notary here, know that +the seals are to be broken this afternoon. He ought to be +here. He was here when they were affixed. Besides, he +has all the keys of Mrs. Harlowe's drawers and cupboards." +</p> + +<p> +"That's true," Jim exclaimed. "I'll go at once." +</p> + +<p> +Ann gave him Monsieur Bex's address in the Place +Etienne Dolet, and from the window of the library +watched him go upon his errand. She stood at the +window for a long while after he had disappeared. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER ELEVEN: <i>A New Suspect</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex the notary came out into the hall +of his house when Frobisher sent his card in to +him. He was a small, brisk man with a neat pointed +beard, his hair cut <i>en brosse</i> and the corner of his napkin +tucked into his neck between the flaps of his collar. +</p> + +<p> +Jim explained that the seals were to be removed from +the rooms of the Maison Grenelle, but said nothing at +all of the new developments which had begun with the +discovery of the book of the arrows. +</p> + +<p> +"I have had communications with Messrs. Frobisher +and Haslitt," the little man exclaimed. "Everything has +been as correct as it could possibly be. I am happy to +meet a partner of so distinguished a firm. Yes. I will +certainly present myself at three with my keys and see +the end of this miserable scandal. It has been a +disgrace. That young lady so delicious and so correct! +And that animal of a Waberski! But we can deal with +him. We have laws in France." +</p> + +<p> +He gave Jim the impression that there were in his +opinion no laws anywhere else, and he bowed his visitor +into the street. +</p> + +<p> +Jim returned by the Rue des Godrans and the main +thoroughfare of the town, the street of Liberty. As he +crossed the semicircle of the Place d'Armes in front of +the Hôtel de Ville, he almost ran into Hanaud smoking a +cigar. +</p> + +<p> +"You have lunched already?" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +"An affair of a quarter of an hour," said Hanaud with +a wave of the hand. "And you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not until two. Miss Harlowe wanted a walk." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"How I understand that! The first walk after an +ordeal! The first walk of a convalescent after an +operation! The first walk of a defendant found innocent of +a grave charge! It must be worth taking, that walk. +But console yourself, my friend, for the postponement +of your luncheon. You have met me!" and he struck +something of an attitude. +</p> + +<p> +Now Jim had the gravest objection to anything theatrical, +especially when displayed in public places, and he +answered stiffly, "That is a pleasure, to be sure." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud grinned. To make Jim look "proper" was +becoming to him an unfailing entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I reward you," he said, though for what Jim +could not imagine. "You shall come with me. At this +hour, on the top of old Philippe le Bon's Terrace Tower, +we shall have the world to ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +He led the way into the great courtyard of the Hôtel +de Ville. Behind the long wing which faced them, a +square, solid tower rose a hundred and fifty feet high +above the ground. With Frobisher at his heels, Hanaud +climbed the three hundred and sixteen steps and emerged +upon the roof into the blue and gold of a cloudless May +in France. They looked eastwards, and the beauty of +the scene took Frobisher's breath away. Just in front, +the slender apse of Notre Dame, fine as a lady's +ornament, set him wondering how in the world through all +these centuries it had endured; and beyond, rich and +green and wonderful, stretched the level plain with its +shining streams and nestling villages. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud sat down upon a stone bench and stretched out +his arm across the parapet. "Look!" he cried eagerly, +proudly. "There is what I brought you here to see. +Look!" +</p> + +<p> +Jim looked and saw, and his face lit up. Far away on +the horizon's edge, unearthly in its beauty, hung the +great mass of Mont Blanc; white as silver, soft as velvet, +and here and there sparkling with gold as though the +flame of a fire leaped and sank. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" said Hanaud as he watched Jim's face. "So +we have that in common. You perhaps have stood on +the top of that mountain?" +</p> + +<p> +"Five times," Jim answered, with a smile made up of +many memories. "I hope to do so again." +</p> + +<p> +"You are fortunate," said Hanaud a little enviously. +"For me I see him only in the distance. But even so—if +I am troubled—it is like sitting silent in the company +of a friend." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher's mind strayed back over memories of +snow slope and rock ridge. It was a true phrase which +Hanaud had used. It expressed one of the many elusive, +almost incommunicable emotions which mountains did +mean to the people who had "that"—the passion for +mountains—in common. Jim glanced curiously at +Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"You are troubled about this case, then?" he said +sympathetically. The distant and exquisite vision of that +soaring arc of silver and velvet set in the blue air had +brought the two men into at all events a momentary +brotherhood. +</p> + +<p> +"Very," Hanaud returned slowly, without turning his +eyes from the horizon, "and for more reasons than one. +What do you yourself think of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think, Monsieur Hanaud," Jim said dryly, "that you +do not like any one to ask any questions except yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed with an appreciation of the thrust. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you wished to ask a question of the beautiful +Mademoiselle Upcott. Tell me if I have guessed aright +the question you meant to ask! It was whether the face +she touched in the darkness was the smooth face of a +woman or the face of a man." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That was it." +</p> + +<p> +It was now for Hanaud to glance curiously and quickly +at Jim. There could be no doubt of the thought which +was passing through his mind: "I must begin to give you +a little special attention, my friend." But he was careful +not to put his thoughts into words. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not want that question asked," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because it was unnecessary, and unnecessary questions +are confusing things which had best be avoided +altogether." +</p> + +<p> +Jim did not believe one word of that explanation. He +had too clear a recollection of the swift movement and the +look with which Hanaud had checked him. Both had been +unmistakably signs of alarm. Hanaud would not have +been alarmed at the prospect of a question being asked, +merely because the question was superfluous. There was +another and, Jim was sure, a very compelling reason in +Hanaud's mind. Only he could not discover it. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, was the question superfluous? +</p> + +<p> +"Surely," Hanaud replied. "Suppose that that young +lady's hand had touched in the darkness the face of a +man with its stubble, its tough skin, and the short hair +of his head around it, bending down so low over hers, +would not that have been the most vivid, terrifying thing +to her in all the terrifying incident? Stretching out her +hands carelessly above her head, she touches suddenly, +unexpectedly, the face of a man? She could not have +told her story at all without telling that. It would have +been the unforgettable detail, the very heart of her terror. +She touched the face of a man!" +</p> + +<p> +Jim recognised that the reasoning was sound, but he +was no nearer to the solution of his problem—why +Hanaud so whole-heartedly objected to the question +being asked. And then Hanaud made a quiet remark which +drove it for a long time altogether out of Jim's +speculations. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle Ann touched the face of a woman in the +darkness that night—if that night, in the darkness she +touched a face at all." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was utterly startled. +</p> + +<p> +"You believe that she was lying to us?" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shook a protesting hand in the air. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe nothing," he said. "I am looking for a +criminal." +</p> + +<p> +"Ann Upcott!" Jim spoke the name in amazement. +"Ann Upcott!" Then he remembered the look of her +as she had told her story, her face convulsed with terror, +her shaking tones. "Oh, it's impossible that she was +lying. Surely no one could have so mimicked fear?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You may take this from me, my friend. All women +who are great criminals are also very artful actresses. +I never knew one who wasn't." +</p> + +<p> +"Ann Upcott!" Jim Frobisher once more exclaimed, +but now with a trifle less of amazement. He was growing +slowly and gradually accustomed to the idea. Still—that +girl with the radiant look of young Spring! Oh, no! +</p> + +<p> +"Ann Upcott was left nothing in Mrs. Harlowe's will," +he argued. "What could she have to gain by murder?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wait, my friend! Look carefully at her story! +Analyse it. You will see—what? That it falls into two +parts." Hanaud ground the stump of his cigar beneath +his heel, offered one of his black cigarettes to Jim +Frobisher and lighted one for himself. He lit it with a +sulphur match which Jim thought would never stop +fizzling, would never burst into flame. +</p> + +<p> +"One part when she was alone in her bedroom—a little +story of terror and acted very effectively, but after all +any one could invent it. The other part was not so easy +to invent. The communicating door open for no reason, +the light beyond, the voice that whispered, 'That will do,' +the sound of the struggle! No, my friend, I don't +believe that was invented. There were too many little +details which seemed to have been lived through. The +white face of the clock and the hour leaping at her. No! +I think all that must stand. But adapt it a little. See! +This morning Waberski told us a story of the Street of +Gambetta and of Jean Cladel!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"And I asked you afterwards whether Waberski might +not be telling a true story of himself and attributing it +to Mademoiselle Harlowe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, interpret Ann Upcott's story in the same +way," continued Hanaud. "Suppose that sometime that +day she had unlocked the communicating door! What +more easy? Madame Harlowe was up during the day-time. +Her room was empty. And that communicating +door opened not into Madame's bedroom, where perhaps +it might have been discovered whether it was locked or +not, but into a dressing-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Jim agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"Well then, continue! Ann Upcott is left alone after +Mademoiselle Harlowe's departure to Monsieur de Pouillac's +Ball. She sends Gaston to bed. The house is all +dark and asleep. Suppose then that she is joined +by—some one—some one with the arrow poison all ready in +the hypodermic needle. That they enter the treasure-room +just as Ann Upcott described. That she turns on +the light for a second whilst—some one—crosses the +treasure-room and opens the door. Suppose that the voice +which whispered, 'That will do now,' was the voice of Ann +Upcott herself and that she whispered it across Madame +Harlowe's body to the third person in that room!" +</p> + +<p> +"The 'some one,'" exclaimed Jim. "But, who then? Who?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. "Why not Waberski?" +</p> + +<p> +"Waberski?" cried Jim with a new excitement in his +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"You asked me what had Ann Upcott to gain by this +murder and you answered your own question. Nothing +you said, Monsieur Frobisher, but did your quick answer +cover the ground? Waberski—he at all events expected +a fine fat legacy. What if he in return for help proposed +to share that fine fat legacy with the exquisite +Mademoiselle Ann. Has she no motive now? In the end what +do we know of her at all except that she is the paid +companion and therefore poor? Mademoiselle Ann!"; and +he threw up his hands. "Where does she spring from? +How did she come into that house? Was she perhaps +Waberski's friend?"—and a cry from Jim brought +Hanaud to a stop. +</p> + +<p> +Jim had thought of Waberski as the possible murderer +if murder had been done—a murderer who, disappointed +of his legacy, the profits of his murder, had carried on +his villainy to blackmail and a false accusation. But he +had not associated Ann Upcott with him until those +moments on the Terrace Tower. Yet now memories +began to crowd upon him. The letter to him, for instance. +She had said that Waberski had claimed her support and +ridiculed his claim. Might that letter not have been a blind +and a rather cunning blind? Above all there was a scene +passing vividly through his mind which was very different +from the scene spread out before his eyes, a scene of lighted +rooms and a crowd about a long green table, and a fair +slender girl seated at the table, who lost and lost until +the whole of her little pile of banknotes was swept in by +the croupier's rake, and then turned away with a high +carriage but a quivering lip. +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" said Hanaud keenly. "You know something +after all of Ann Upcott, my friend. What do you +know?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim hesitated. At one moment it did not seem fair to +her that he should relate his story. Explained, it might +wear so different a complexion. At another moment that +it would be fairer to let her explain it. And there was +Betty to consider. Yes, above all there was Betty to +consider. He was in Dijon on her behalf. +</p> + +<p> +"I will tell you," he said to Hanaud. "When I saw +you in Paris, I told you that I had never seen Ann Upcott +in all my life. I believed it. It wasn't until she danced +into the library yesterday morning that I realised I had +misled you. I saw Ann Upcott at the <i>trente et quarante</i> +table at the Sporting Club in Monte Carlo in January of +this year. I sat next to her. She was quite alone and +losing her money. Nothing would go right for her. She +bore herself proudly and well. The only sign I saw of +distress was the tightening of her fingers about her little +handbag, and a look of defiance thrown at the other players +when she rose after her last coup, as though she dared +them to pity her. I was on the other hand winning, and +I slipped a thousand-franc note off the table on to the +floor, keeping my heel firmly upon it as you can +understand. And as the girl turned to move out from the +crowd I stopped her. I said in English, for she was +obviously of my race, 'This is yours. You have dropped +it on the floor.' She gave me a smile and a little shake of +the head. I think that for the moment she dared not trust +her lips to speak, and in a second, of course, she was +swallowed up in the crowd. I played for a little while +longer. Then I too rose and as I passed the entrance to +the bar on my way to get my coat, this girl rose up from +one of the many little tables and spoke to me. She called +me by my name. She thanked me very prettily and said +that although she had lost that evening she was not really +in any trouble. I doubted the truth of what she said. For +she had not one ring upon any finger, not the tiniest +necklace about her throat, not one ornament upon her dress +or in her hair. She turned away from me at once and +went back to the little table where she sat down again in +the company of a man. The girl of course was Ann +Upcott, the man Waberski. It was from him no doubt +that she had got my name." +</p> + +<p> +"Did this little episode happen before Ann Upcott +became a member of the household?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," replied Jim. "I think she joined Mrs. Harlowe +and Betty at Monte Carlo. I think that she came +with them back to Dijon." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt," said Hanaud. He sat for a little while +in silence. Then he said softly, "That does not look so +very well for Mademoiselle Ann." +</p> + +<p> +Jim had to admit that it did not. +</p> + +<p> +"But consider this, Monsieur Hanaud," he urged. "If +Ann Upcott, which I will not believe, is mixed up in this +affair, why should she of her own free will volunteer this +story of what she heard upon the night of the +twenty-seventh and invent that face which bent down over her +in the darkness?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have an idea about that," Hanaud replied. "She +told us this story—when? After I had said that we must +have the seals broken this afternoon and the rooms thrown +open. It is possible that we may come upon something +in those rooms which makes it wise for her to divert +suspicion upon some other woman in the house. Jeanne +Baudin, or even Mademoiselle Harlowe's maid Francine +Rollard." +</p> + +<p> +"But not Mademoiselle Betty," Jim interposed quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no!" Hanaud returned with a wave of his hand. +"The clock upon the marquetry cabinet settled that. +Mademoiselle Betty is out of the affair. Well, this +afternoon we shall see. Meanwhile, my friend, you will be +late for your luncheon." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud rose from the bench and with a last look at the +magical mountain, that outpost of France, they turned +towards the city. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher looked down upon tiny squares green +with limes and the steep gaily-patterned roofs of ancient +houses. About him the fine tapering spires leapt high +like lances from the slates of its many churches. A little +to the south and a quarter of a mile away across the roof +tops he saw the long ridge of a big house and the smoke +rising from a chimney stack or two and behind it the tops +of tall trees which rippled and shook the sunlight from +their leaves. +</p> + +<p> +"The Maison Crenelle!" he said. +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer, not even the slightest movement +at his side. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't it?" he asked and he turned. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud had not even heard him. He was gazing +also towards the Maison Crenelle with the queerest look +upon his face; a look with which Jim was familiar in +some sort of association, but which for a moment or two +he could not define. It was not an expression of +amazement. On the other hand interest was too weak a word. +Suddenly Jim Frobisher understood and comprehension +brought with it a sense of discomfort. Hanaud's look, +very bright and watchful and more than a little inhuman, +was just the look of a good retriever dog when his master +brings out a gun. +</p> + +<p> +Jim looked again at the high ridge of the house. The +slates were broken at intervals by little gabled windows, +but at none of them could he see a figure. From none of +them a signal was waved. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it that you are looking at?" asked Jim in +perplexity and then with a touch of impatience. "You +see something, I'm sure." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud heard his companion at last. His face +changed in a moment, lost its rather savage vigilance, and +became the face of a buffoon. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I see something. Always I see something. +Am I not Hanaud? Ah, my friend, the responsibility of +being Hanaud! Aren't you fortunate to be without it? +Pity me! For the Hanauds must see something +everywhere—even when there is nothing to see. Come!" +</p> + +<p> +He bustled out of the sunlight on that high platform +into the dark turret of the staircase. The two men +descended the steps and came out again into the semi-circle +of the Place d'Armes. +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" said Hanaud and then "Yes," as though he +had some little thing to say and was not quite sure +whether he would say it. Then he compromised. "You +shall take a Vermouth with me before you go to your +luncheon," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"I should be late if I did," Frobisher replied. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud waved the objection aside with a shake of his +outstretched forefinger. +</p> + +<p> +"You have plenty of time, Monsieur. You shall take +a Vermouth with me, and you will still reach the Maison +Crenelle before Mademoiselle Harlowe. I say that, +Hanaud," he said superbly, and Jim laughed and +consented. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall plead your vanity as my excuse when I find her +and Ann Upcott half through their meal." +</p> + +<p> +A café stands at the corner of the street of Liberty and +the Place d'Armes, with two or three little tables set out +on the pavement beneath an awning. They sat down at +one of them, and over the Vermouth, Hanaud was once +more upon the brink of some recommendation or statement. +</p> + +<p> +"You see——" he began and then once more ran away. +"So you have been five times upon the top of the Mont +Blanc!" he said. "From Chamonix?" +</p> + +<p> +"Once," Jim replied. "Once from the Col du Géant +by the Brenva glacier. Once by the Dôme route. Once +from the Brouillard glacier. And the last time by the +Mont Mandit." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud listened with genuine friendliness and said: +</p> + +<p> +"You tell me things which are interesting and very +new to me," he said warmly. "I am grateful, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"On the other hand," Jim answered dryly, "you, Monsieur, +tell me very little. Even what you brought me to +this café to say, you are going to keep to yourself. But +for my part I shall not be so churlish. I am going to tell +you what I think." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think we have missed the way." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud selected a cigarette from his bundle in its +bright blue wrapping. +</p> + +<p> +"You will perhaps think me presumptuous in saying so." +</p> + +<p> +"Not the least little bit in the world," Hanaud replied +seriously. "We of the Police are liable in searching +widely to overlook the truth under our noses. That is our +danger. Another angle of view—there is nothing more +precious. I am all attention." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher drew his chair closer to the round table +of iron and leaned his elbows upon it. +</p> + +<p> +"I think there is one question in particular which we +must answer if we are to discover whether Mrs. Harlowe +was murdered, and if so by whom." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"I agree," he said slowly. "But I wonder whether we +have the same question in our minds." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a question which we have neglected. It is this—Who +put back the Professor's treatise on Sporanthus in +its place upon the bookshelf in the library, between +mid-day yesterday and this morning." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud struck another of his abominable matches, and +held it in the shelter of his palm until the flame shone. +He lit his cigarette and took a few puffs at it. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt that question is important," he admitted, +although in rather an off-hand way. "But it is not mine. +No. I think there is another more important still. I +think if we could know why the door of the treasure-room, +which had been locked since Simon Harlowe's +death, was unlocked on the night of the twenty-seventh +of April, we should be very near to the whole truth of this +dark affair. But," and he flung out his hands, "that +baffles me." +</p> + +<p> +Jim left him sitting at the table and staring moodily +upon the pavement, as if he hoped to read the answer +there. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWELVE: <i>The Breaking of the Seals</i> +</h3> + +<p> +A few minutes later Jim Frobisher had to admit that +Hanaud guessed very luckily. He would not allow +that it was more than a guess. Monsieur Hanaud might +be a thorough little Mr. Know-All; but no insight, however +brilliant, could inform him of so accidental a circumstance. +But there the fact was. Frobisher did arrive at +the Maison Crenelle, to his great discomfort, before Betty +Harlowe. He had loitered with Hanaud at the café just +so that this might not take place. He shrank from being +alone with Ann Upcott now that he suspected her. The +most he could hope to do was to conceal the reason of his +trouble. The trouble itself in her presence he could not +conceal. She made his case the more difficult perhaps by +a rather wistful expression of sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +"You are distressed," she said gently. "But surely you +need not be any longer. What I said this morning was +true. It was half-past ten when that dreadful whisper +reached my ears. Betty was a mile away amongst her +friends in a ball-room. Nothing can shake that." +</p> + +<p> +"It is not on her account that I am troubled," he cried, +and Ann looked at him with startled eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Betty crossed the court and joined them in the hall +before Ann could ask a question; and throughout their +luncheon he made conversation upon indifferent subjects +with rapidity, if without entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately there was no time to spare. They were +still indeed smoking their cigarettes over their coffee when +Gaston informed them that the Commissary of Police +with his secretary was waiting in the library. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Mr. Frobisher, my solicitor in London," said +Betty as she presented Jim. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary, Monsieur Girardot, was a stout, bald, +middle-aged man with a pair of folding glasses sitting +upon a prominent fat nose; his secretary, Maurice +Thevenet, was a tall good-looking novice in the police +administration, a trifle flashy in his appearance, and in +his own esteem, one would gather, rather a conqueror +amongst the fair. +</p> + +<p> +"I have asked Monsieur Bex, Mademoiselle's notary +in Dijon, to be present," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"That is quite in order," replied the Commissary, and +Monsieur Bex was at that moment announced. He +came on the very moment of three. The clock was +striking as he bowed in the doorway. Everything was just +as it should be. Monsieur Bex was pleased. +</p> + +<p> +"With Monsieur le Commissaire's consent," he said, +smiling, "we can now proceed with the final ceremonies +of this affair." +</p> + +<p> +"We wait for Monsieur Hanaud," said the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +"Hanaud?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hanaud of the Sûrété of Paris, who has been invited +by the Examining Magistrate to take charge of this +case," the Commissary explained. +</p> + +<p> +"Case?" cried Monsieur Bex in perplexity. "But there +is no case for Hanaud to take charge of;" and Betty +Harlowe drew him a little aside. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst she gave the little notary some rapid summary +of the incidents of the morning, Jim went out of the room +into the hall in search of Hanaud. He saw him at once; +but to his surprise Hanaud came forward from the back +of the hall as if he had entered the house from the garden. +</p> + +<p> +"I sought you in the dining-room," he said, pointing to +the door of that room which certainly was at the back of +the house behind the library, with its entrance behind the +staircase. "We will join the others." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was presented to Monsieur Bex. +</p> + +<p> +"And this gentleman?" asked Hanaud, bowing slightly +to Thevenet. +</p> + +<p> +"My secretary, Maurice Thevenet," said the Commissary, +and in a loud undertone, "a charming youth, of an +intelligence which is surprising. He will go far." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked at Thevenet with a friendly interest. +The young recruit gazed at the great man with kindling +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"This will be an opportunity for me, Monsieur Hanaud, +by which, if I do not profit, I prove myself of no intelligence +at all," he said with a formal modesty which quite +went to the heart of Monsieur Bex. +</p> + +<p> +"That is very correct," said he. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud for his part was never averse to flattery. He +cocked an eye at Jim Frobisher; he shook the secretary +warmly by the hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Then don't hesitate to ask me questions, my young +friend," he answered. "I am Hanaud now, yes. But +I was once young Maurice Thevenet without, alas! his +good looks." +</p> + +<p> +Maurice Thevenet blushed with the most becoming +diffidence. +</p> + +<p> +"That is very kind," said Monsieur Bex. +</p> + +<p> +"This looks like growing into a friendly little family +party," Jim Frobisher thought, and he quite welcomed a +"Hum" and a "Ha" from the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +He moved to the centre of the room. +</p> + +<p> +"We, Girardot, Commissaire of Police, will now +remove the seals," he said pompously. +</p> + +<p> +He led the way from the Library across the hall and +along the corridor to the wide door of Mrs. Harlowe's +bedroom. He broke the seals and removed the bands. +Then he took a key from the hand of his secretary and +opened the door upon a shuttered room. The little +company of people surged forward. Hanaud stretched out +his arms and barred the way. +</p> + +<p> +"Just for a moment, please!" he ordered and over his +shoulder Jim Frobisher had a glimpse of the room which +made him shiver. +</p> + +<p> +This morning in the garden some thrill of the chase +had made him for a moment eager that Hanaud should +press on, that development should follow upon development +until somewhere a criminal stood exposed. Since +the hour, however, which he had spent upon the Tower +of the Terrace, all thought of the chase appalled him and +he waited for developments in fear. This bedroom +mistily lit by a few stray threads of daylight which +pierced through the chinks of the shutters, cold and silent +and mysterious, was for him peopled with phantoms, +whose faces no one could see, who struggled dimly in +the shadows. Then Hanaud and the Commissary crossed +to the windows opposite, opened them and flung back the +shutters. The clear bright light flooded every corner in +an instant and brought to Jim Frobisher relief. The +room was swept and clean, the chairs ranged against the +wall, the bed flat and covered with an embroidered spread; +everywhere there was order; it was as empty of suggestion +as a vacant bedroom in an hotel. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked about him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said. "This room stood open for a week +after Madame's funeral. It would have been a miracle if +we discovered anything which could help us." +</p> + +<p> +He went to the bed, which stood with its head against +the wall midway between the door and the windows. A +small flat stand with a button of enamel lay upon the +round table by the bed-side, and from the stand a cord +ran down by the table leg and disappeared under the +carpet. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the bell into what was the maid's bedroom, I +suppose," he said, turning towards Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud stooped and minutely examined the cord. But +there was no sign that it had ever been tampered with. +He stood up again. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, will you take Monsieur Girardot into +Jeanne Baudin's bedroom and close the door. I shall +press this button, and you will know whether the bell rings +whilst we here shall be able to assure ourselves whether +sounds made in one of the rooms would be heard in the +other." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly." +</p> + +<p> +Betty took the Commissary of Police away, and a few +seconds later those in Mrs. Harlowe's room heard a door +close in the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you shut our door now, if you please?" Hanaud +requested. +</p> + +<p> +Bex, the notary, closed it. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, silence, if you please!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud pressed the button, and not a sound answered +him. He pressed it again and again with the same result. +The Commissary returned to the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"It rang twice," said the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"And an electric bell has a shrill, penetrating sound," +he cried. "Name of a name, but they built good houses +when the Maison Crenelle was built! Are the cupboards +and drawers open?" +</p> + +<p> +He tried one and found it locked. Monsieur Bex came +forward. +</p> + +<p> +"All the drawers were locked on the morning when +Madame Harlowe's death was discovered. Mademoiselle +Harlowe herself locked them in my presence and handed +to me the keys for the purpose of making an inventory. +Mademoiselle was altogether correct in so doing. For +until the funeral had taken place the terms of the will +were not disclosed." +</p> + +<p> +"But afterwards, when you took the inventory you +must have unlocked them." +</p> + +<p> +"I have not yet begun the inventory, Monsieur Hanaud. +There were the arrangements for the funeral, a list of the +properties to be made for valuation, and the vineyards to +be administered." +</p> + +<p> +"Oho," cried Hanaud alertly. "Then these wardrobes +and cupboards and drawers should hold exactly +what they held on the night of the twenty-seventh of +April." He ran quickly about the room trying a door +here, a drawer there, and came to a stop beside a +cupboard fashioned in the thickness of the wall. "The +trouble is that a child with a bent wire could unlock any +one of them. Do you know what Madame Harlowe kept +in this, Monsieur Bex?" and Hanaud rapped with his +knuckles upon the cupboard door. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I have no idea. Shall I open it?" and Bex +produced a bunch of keys from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"Not for the moment, I think," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +He had been dawdling over the locks and the drawers, +as though time meant nothing to him at all. He now +swung briskly back into the centre of the room, making +notes, it seemed to Frobisher, of its geography. The +door opening from the corridor faced, across the length +of the floor, the two tall windows above the garden. If +one stood in the doorway facing these two windows, the +bed was on the left hand. On the corridor side of the +bed, a second smaller door, which was half open, led to a +white-tiled bath-room. On the window side of the bed +was the cupboard in the wall about the height of a +woman's shoulders. A dressing-table stood between the +windows, a great fire-place broke the right-hand wall, +and in that same wall, close to the right-hand window, +there was yet another door. Hanaud moved to it. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the door of the dressing-room?" he asked of +Ann Upcott, and without waiting for an answer pushed +it open. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex followed upon his heels with his keys +rattling. "Everything here has been locked up too," he +said. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud paid not the slightest attention. He opened +the shutters. +</p> + +<p> +It was a narrow room without any fire-place at all, +and with a door exactly opposite to the door by which +Hanaud had entered. He went at once to this door. +</p> + +<p> +"And this must be the communicating door which +leads into what is called the treasure-room," he said, and +he paused with his hand upon the knob and his eyes ranging +alertly over the faces of the company. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Ann Upcott. +</p> + +<p> +Jim was conscious of a queer thrill. He thought of +the opening of some newly-discovered tomb of a Pharaoh +in a hill-side of the Valley of Kings. Suspense passed +from one to the other as they waited, but Hanaud did +not move. He stood there impassive and still like some +guardian image at the door of the tomb. Jim felt that +he was never going to move, and in a voice of +exasperation he cried: +</p> + +<p> +"Is the door locked?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud replied in a quiet but a singular voice. No +doubt he, too, felt that strange current of emotion and +expectancy which bound all in the room under a spell, +and even gave to their diverse faces for a moment a kind +of family similitude. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know yet whether it's locked or not," he said. +"But since this room is now the private sitting-room of +Mademoiselle Harlowe, I think that we ought to wait +until she rejoins us." +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex just had time to remark with approval, +"That is very correct," before Betty's fresh, clear voice +rang out from the doorway leading to Mrs. Harlowe's +bedroom: +</p> + +<p> +"I am here." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud turned the handle. The door was not locked. +It opened at a touch—inwards towards the group of +people and upwards towards the corridor. The treasure-room +was before them, shrouded in dim light, but here +and there a beam of light sparkled upon gold and held +out a promise of wonders. Hanaud picked his way +daintily to the windows and fastened the shutters back +against the outside wall. "I beg that nothing shall be +touched," he said as the others filed into the room. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER THIRTEEN: <i>Simon Harlowe's Treasure-room</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Like the rest of the reception-rooms along the +corridor, it was longer than it was broad and more of a +gallery than a room. But it had been arranged for habitation +rather than for occasional visits. For it was furnished +with a luxurious comfort and not over-crowded. In the +fawn-coloured panels of the walls a few exquisite pictures +by Fragonard had been framed; on the writing-table of +Chinese Chippendale by the window every appointment, +ink-stand, pen-tray, candlestick, sand-caster and all were +of the pink Battersea enamel and without a flaw. But +they were there for use, not for exhibition. Moreover +a prominent big fire-place in the middle of the wall on +the side of the hall, jutted out into the room and gave it +almost the appearance of two rooms in communication, +The one feature of the room, indeed, which at a first +glimpse betrayed the collector, was the Sedan chair set in +a recess of the wall by the fire-place and opposite to the +door communicating with Mrs. Harlowe's bedroom. Its +body was of a pale French grey in colour, with elaborately +carved mouldings in gold round the panels and medallions +representing fashionable shepherds and shepherdesses +daintily painted in the middle of them. It had glass +windows at the sides to show off the occupant, and it was +lined with pale grey satin, embroidered in gold to match +the colour of the panels. The roof, which could be raised +upon a hinge at the back, was ornamented with gold +filigree work, and it had a door in front of which the +upper part was glass. Altogether it was as pretty a +gleaming piece of work as the art of carriage-building +could achieve, and a gilt rail very fitly protected it. Even +Hanaud was taken by its daintiness. He stood with his +hands upon the rail examining it with a smile of pleasure, +until Jim began to think that he had quite forgotten the +business which had brought him there. However, he +brought himself out of his dream with a start. +</p> + +<p> +"A pretty world for rich people, Monsieur Frobisher," +he said. "What pictures of fine ladies in billowy skirts +and fine gentlemen in silk stockings! And what splashings +of mud for the unhappy devils who had to walk!" +</p> + +<p> +He turned his back to the chair and looked across the +room. "That is the clock which marked half-past ten, +Mademoiselle, during the moment when you had the light +turned up?" he asked of Ann. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she answered quickly. Then she looked at it +again. "Yes, that's it." +</p> + +<p> +Jim detected or fancied that he detected a tiny change +in her intonation, as she repeated her assurance, not an +inflexion of doubt—it was not marked enough for that—but +of perplexity. It was clearly, however, fancy upon +his part, for Hanaud noticed nothing at all. Jim pulled +himself up with an unspoken remonstrance. "Take +care!" he warned himself. "For once you begin to +suspect people, they can say and do nothing which will not +provide you with material for suspicion." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was without doubt satisfied. The clock was +a beautiful small gilt clock of the Louis Quinze period, +shaped with a waist like a violin; it had a white face, and +it stood upon a marquetry Boulle cabinet, a little more +than waist high, in front of a tall Venetian mirror. +Hanaud stood directly in front of it and compared it with +his watch. +</p> + +<p> +"It is exact to the minute, Mademoiselle," he said to +Betty, with a smile as he replaced his watch in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +He turned about, so that he stood with his back to the +clock. He faced the fire-place across the narrow neck of +the room. It had an Adam mantelpiece, fashioned from +the same fawn-coloured wood as the panels, with slender +pillars and some beautiful carving upon the board beneath +the shelf. Above the shelf one of the Fragonards was +framed in the wall and apparently so that nothing should +mask it, there were no high ornaments at all upon the +shelf itself. One or two small boxes of Battersea enamel +and a flat glass case alone decorated it. Hanaud crossed +to the mantelshelf and, after a moment's inspection, lifted, +with a low whistle of admiration, the flat glass case. +</p> + +<p> +"You will pardon me, Mademoiselle," he said to Betty. +"But I shall probably never in my life have the luck to +see anything so incomparable again. And the mantel-shelf +is a little high for me to see it properly." +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for the girl's consent he carried it +towards the window. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you see this, Monsieur Frobisher?" he called out, +and Jim went forward to his side. +</p> + +<p> +The case held a pendant wrought in gold and chalcedony +and translucent enamels by Benvenuto Cellini. Jim +acknowledged that he had never seen craftsmanship so +exquisite and delicate, but he chafed none the less at +Hanaud's diversion from his business. +</p> + +<p> +"One could spend a long day in this room," the +detective exclaimed, "admiring these treasures." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt," Jim replied dryly. "But I had a notion +that we were going to spend an afternoon looking for an +arrow." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"My friend, you recall me to my duty." He looked at +the jewel again and sighed. "Yes, as you say, we are +not visitors here to enjoy ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +He carried the case back again to the mantelshelf and +replaced it. Then all at once his manner changed. He +was leaning forward with his hands still about the glass +case. But he was looking down. The fire-grate was +hidden from the room by a low screen of blue lacquer; +and Hanaud, from the position in which he stood, could +see over the screen into the grate itself. +</p> + +<p> +"What is all this?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted the screen from the hearth and put it carefully +aside. All now could see what had disturbed him—a +heap of white ashes in the grate. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud went down upon his knees and picking up the +shovel from the fender he thrust it between the bars and +drew it out again with a little layer of the ashes upon it. +They were white and had been pulverised into atoms. +There was not one flake which would cover a finger-nail. +Hanaud touched them gingerly, as though he had expected +to find them hot. +</p> + +<p> +"This room was sealed up on Sunday morning and +to-day is Thursday afternoon," said Jim Frobisher with +heavy sarcasm. "Ashes do not as a rule keep hot more +than three days, Monsieur Hanaud." +</p> + +<p> +Maurice Thevenet looked at Frobisher with indignation. +He was daring to make fun of Hanaud! He +treated the Sûrété with no more respect than one might +treat—well, say Scotland Yard. +</p> + +<p> +Even Monsieur Bex had an air of disapproval. For a +partner of the firm of Frobisher & Haslitt this gentleman +was certainly not very correct. Hanaud on the contrary +was milk and water. +</p> + +<p> +"I have observed it," he replied mildly, and he sat back +upon his heels with the shovel still poised in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle!" he called; and Betty moved forward +and leaned against the mantelshelf at his side. "Who +burnt these papers so very carefully?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I did," Betty replied. +</p> + +<p> +"And when?" +</p> + +<p> +"On Saturday night, a few, and the rest on Sunday +morning, before Monsieur le Commissaire arrived." +</p> + +<p> +"And what were they, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Letters, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked up into her face quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho!" he said softly. "Letters! Yes! And what +kind of letters, if you please?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher was for throwing up his hands in +despair. What in the world had happened to Hanaud? +One moment he forgot altogether the business upon +which he was engaged in his enjoyment of Simon +Harlowe's collection. The next he was off on his +wild-goose chase after anonymous letters. Jim had not a +doubt that he was thinking of them now. One had only +to say "letters," and he was side-tracked at once, +apparently ready to accuse any one of their authorship. +</p> + +<p> +"They were quite private letters," Betty replied, whilst +the colour slowly stained her cheeks. "They will not +help you." +</p> + +<p> +"So I see," Hanaud returned, with just a touch of a +snarl in his voice as he shook the shovel and flung the +ashes back into the grate. "But I am asking you, +Mademoiselle, what kind of letters these were." +</p> + +<p> +Betty did not answer. She looked sullenly down at +the floor, and then from the floor to the windows; and +Jim saw with a stab of pain that her eyes were glistening +with tears. +</p> + +<p> +"I think, Monsieur Hanaud, that we have come to a +point when Mademoiselle and I should consult together," +he interposed. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle would certainly be within her rights," +said Monsieur Bex. +</p> + +<p> +But Mademoiselle waived her rights with a little +petulant movement of her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well." +</p> + +<p> +She showed her face now to them all, with the tears +abrim in her big eyes, and gave Jim a little nod of thanks +and recognition. +</p> + +<p> +"You shall be answered, Monsieur Hanaud," she said +with a catch in her voice. "It seems that nothing, however +sacred, but must be dragged out into the light. But +I say again those letters will not help you." +</p> + +<p> +She looked across the group to her notary. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Bex," she said, and he moved forward to +the other side of Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"In Madame's bedroom between her bed and the door +of the bathroom there stood a small chest in which she +kept a good many unimportant papers, such as old +receipted bills, which it was not yet wise to destroy. This +chest I took to my office after Madame's death, of course +with Mademoiselle's consent, meaning to go through the +papers at my leisure and recommend that all which were +not important should be destroyed. My time, however, +was occupied, as I have already explained to you, and it +was not until the Friday of the sixth of May that I opened +the chest at all. On the very top I saw, to my surprise, a +bundle of letters in which the writing had already faded, +tied together with a ribbon. One glance was enough to +assure me that they were very private and sacred things +with which Mademoiselle's notary had nothing whatever +to do. Accordingly, on the Saturday morning, I brought +them back myself to Mademoiselle Betty." +</p> + +<p> +With a bow Monsieur Bex retired and Betty continued +the story. +</p> + +<p> +"I put the letters aside so that I might read them +quietly after dinner. As it happened I could not in any +case have given them attention before. For on that +morning Monsieur Boris formulated his charge against +me, and in the afternoon I was summoned to the Office +of the Examining Magistrate. As you can understand, +I was—I don't say frightened—but distressed by this +accusation; and it was not until quite late in the evening, +and then rather to distract my thoughts than for any +other reason, that I looked at the letters. But as soon as +I did look at them I understood that they must be +destroyed. There were reasons, which"—and her voice +faltered, and with an effort again grew steady—"which I +feel it rather a sacrilege to explain. They were letters +which passed between my uncle Simon and Mrs. Harlowe +during the time when she was very unhappily married to +Monsieur Raviart and living apart from him—sometimes +long letters, sometimes little scraps of notes scribbled +off—without reserve—during a moment of freedom. +They were the letters of," and again her voice broke and +died away into a whisper, so that none could misunderstand +her meaning—"of lovers—lovers speaking very +intimate things, and glorying in their love. Oh, there +was no doubt that they ought to be destroyed! But I +made up my mind that I ought to read them, every one, +first of all lest there should be something in them which +I ought to know. I read a good many that night and +burnt them. But it grew late—I left the rest until the +Sunday morning. I finished them on the Sunday morning, +and what I had left over I burnt then. It was soon +after I had finished burning them that Monsieur le +Commissaire came to affix his seals. The ashes which you +see there, Monsieur Hanaud, are the ashes of the letters +which I burnt upon the Sunday morning." +</p> + +<p> +Betty spoke with a very pretty and simple dignity +which touched her audience to a warm sympathy. +Hanaud gently tilted the ashes back into the grate. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, I am always in the wrong with you," +he said with an accent of remorse. "For I am always +forcing you to statements which make me ashamed and +do you honour." +</p> + +<p> +Jim acknowledged that Hanaud, when he wished, could +do the handsome thing with a very good grace. +Unfortunately grace seemed never to be an enduring quality +in him; as, for instance, now. He was still upon his +knees in front of the hearth. Whilst making his apology +he had been raking amongst the ashes with the shovel +without giving, to all appearance, any thought to what +he was doing. But his attention was now arrested. The +shovel had disclosed an unburnt fragment of bluish-white +paper. Hanaud's body stiffened. He bent forward and +picked the scrap of paper out from the grate, whilst +Betty, too, stooped with a little movement of curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud sat back again upon his heels. +</p> + +<p> +"So! You burnt more than letters last Sunday +morning," he said. +</p> + +<p> +Betty was puzzled and Hanaud held out to her the +fragment of paper. +</p> + +<p> +"Bills too, Mademoiselle." +</p> + +<p> +Betty took the fragment in her hand and shook her +head over it. It was obviously the right-hand top corner +of a bill. For an intriguing scrap of a printed address +was visible and below a figure or two in a column. +</p> + +<p> +"There must have been a bill or two mixed up with +the letters," said Betty. "I don't remember it." +</p> + +<p> +She handed the fragment of paper back to Hanaud, +who sat and looked at it. Jim Frobisher standing just +behind him read the printed ends of names and words and +the figures beneath and happened to remember the very +look of them, Hanaud held them so long in his hand; the +top bit of name in large capital letters, the words below +echelonned in smaller capitals, then the figures in the +columns and all enclosed in a rough sort of triangle with +the diagonal line browned and made ragged by the +fire—thus— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + ERON<br /> + STRUCTION<br /> + LLES<br /> + IS<br /> + ========<br /> + 375.05<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +"Well, it is of no importance luckily," said Hanaud +and he tossed the scrap of paper back into the grate. +"Did you notice these ashes, Monsieur Girardot, on +Sunday morning?" He turned any slur the question might +seem to cast upon Betty's truthfulness with an +explanation. +</p> + +<p> +"It is always good when it is possible to get a +corroboration, Mademoiselle." +</p> + +<p> +Betty nodded, but Girardot was at a loss. He +managed to look extremely important, but importance +was not required. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't remember," he said. +</p> + +<p> +However, corroboration of a kind at all events did +come though from another source. +</p> + +<p> +"If I might speak, Monsieur Hanaud?" said Maurice +Thevenet eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"But by all means," Hanaud replied. +</p> + +<p> +"I came into this room just behind Monsieur +Girardot on the Sunday morning. I did not see any +ashes in the hearth, that is true. But Mademoiselle +Harlowe was in the act of arranging that screen of blue +lacquer in front of the fireplace, just as we saw it to-day. +She arranged it, and when she saw who her visitors were +she stood up with a start of surprise." +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" said Hanaud cordially. He smiled at Betty. +"This evidence is just as valuable as if he had told us +that he had seen the ashes themselves." +</p> + +<p> +He rose to his feet and went close to her. +</p> + +<p> +"But there is another letter which you were good +enough to promise to me," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"The an——" she began and Hanaud stopped her +hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +"It is better that we hold our tongues," he said with +a nod and a grin which recognised that in this matter +they were accomplices. "This is to be our exclusive little +secret, which, if he is very good, we will share with +Monsieur le Commissaire." +</p> + +<p> +He laughed hugely at his joke, whilst Betty unlocked a +drawer in the Chippendale secretary. Girardot the +Commissaire tittered, not quite sure that he thought very +highly of it. Monsieur Bex, on the other hand, by a +certain extra primness of his face, made it perfectly clear +that in his opinion such a jape was very, very far from +correct. +</p> + +<p> +Betty produced a folded sheet of common paper and +handed it to Hanaud, who took it aside to the window +and read it carefully. Then with a look he beckoned +Girardot to his side. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Frobisher can come too. For he is in the +secret," he added; and the three men stood apart at the +window looking at the sheet of paper. It was dated the +7th of May, signed "The Scourge," like the others of +this hideous brood, and it began without any preface. +There were only a few words typed upon it, and some of +them were epithets not to be reproduced which made +Jim's blood boil that a girl like Betty should ever have +had to read them. +</p> + +<p class="quote"> +"<i>Your time is coming now, you——</i>" and here followed +the string of abominable obscenities. "<i>You +are for it, Betty Harlowe. Hanaud the detective from +Paris is coming to look after you with his handcuffs +in his pocket. You'll look pretty in handcuffs, won't +you, Betty? It's your white neck we want! Three +cheers for Waberski? The Scourge.</i>" +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Girardot stared at the brutal words and settled his +glasses on his nose and stared again. +</p> + +<p> +"But—but——" he stammered and he pointed to the +date. A warning gesture made by Hanaud brought him +to a sudden stop, but Frobisher had little doubt as to the +purport of that unfinished exclamation. Girardot was +astonished, as Hanaud himself had been, that this item +of news had so quickly leaked abroad. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud folded the letter and turned back into the +room. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said to Betty, and +Thevenet the secretary took his notebook from his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I make you a copy of the letter, Monsieur +Hanaud?" he said, sitting down and holding out his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I wasn't going to give it back," Hanaud answered, +"and a copy at the present stage isn't necessary. A little +later on I may ask for your assistance." +</p> + +<p> +He put the letter away in his letter-case, and his letter-case +away in his breast-pocket. When he looked up again +he saw that Betty was holding out to him a key. +</p> + +<p> +"This unlocks the cabinet at the end of the room," +she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! Let us look now for the famous arrow, or we +shall have Monsieur Frobisher displeased with us again," +said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +The cabinet stood against the wall at the end of the +room opposite to the windows, and close to the door which +opened on to the hall. Hanaud took the key, unlocked +the door of the cabinet and started back with a "Wow." He +was really startled, for facing him upon a shelf were +two tiny human heads, perfect in feature, in hair, in eyes, +but reduced to the size of big oranges. They were the +heads of Indian tribesmen killed upon the banks of the +Amazon, and preserved and reduced by their conquerors +by the process common amongst those forests. +</p> + +<p> +"If the arrow is anywhere in this room, it is here that +we should find it," he said, but though he found many +curious oddities in that cabinet, of the perfect specimen of +a poison arrow there was never a trace. He turned away +with an air of disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +"Well then, Mademoiselle, there is nothing else for it," +he said regretfully; and for an hour he searched that +room, turning back the carpet, examining the upholstery +of the chairs, and the curtains, shaking out every vase, +and finally giving his attention to Betty's secretary. He +probed every cranny of it; he discovered the simple +mechanism of its secret drawers; he turned out every +pigeon-hole; working with extraordinary swiftness and +replacing everything in its proper place. At the end of +the hour the room was as orderly as when he had entered +it; yet he had gone through it with a tooth comb. +</p> + +<p> +"No, it is not here," he said and he seated himself in +a chair and drew a breath. "But on the other hand, as +the two ladies and Monsieur Frobisher are aware, I was +prepared not to find it here." +</p> + +<p> +"We have finished then?" said Betty, but Hanaud did +not stir. +</p> + +<p> +"For a moment," he replied, "I shall be glad, Monsieur +Girardot, if you will remove the seals in the hall from the +door at the end of the room." +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary went out by the way of Mrs. Harlowe's +bedroom, accompanied by his secretary. After a +minute had passed a key grated in the lock and the door +was opened. The Commissary and his secretary returned +into the room from the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +He rose from this chair and looking around at the little +group, now grown puzzled and anxious, he said very +gravely: +</p> + +<p> +"In the interest of justice I now ask that none of you +shall interrupt me by either word or gesture, for I have +an experiment to make." +</p> + +<p> +In a complete silence he walked to the fireplace and +rang the bell. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER FOURTEEN: <i>An Experiment and a Discovery</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Gaston answered the bell. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you please send Francine Rollard here," +said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Gaston, however, stood his ground. He looked beyond +Hanaud to Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"If Mademoiselle gives me the order," he said +respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +"At once then, Gaston," Betty replied, and she sat +down in a chair. +</p> + +<p> +Francine Rollard was apparently difficult to persuade. +For the minutes passed, and when at last she did come +into the treasure room she was scared and reluctant. She +was a girl hardly over twenty, very neat and trim and +pretty, and rather like some wild shy creature out of the +woods. She looked round the group which awaited her +with restless eyes and a sullen air of suspicion. But it +was the suspicion of wild people for townsfolk. +</p> + +<p> +"Rollard," said Hanaud gently, "I sent for you, for +I want another woman to help me in acting a little scene." +</p> + +<p> +He turned towards Ann Upcott. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Mademoiselle, will you please repeat exactly +your movements here on the night when Madame Harlowe +died? You came into the room—so. You stood +by the electric-light switch there. You turned it on, you +noticed the time, and you turned it off quickly. For this +communicating door stood wide open—so!—and a strong +light poured out of Madame Harlowe's bedroom through +the doorway." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was very busy, placing himself first by the side +of Ann to make sure that she stood in the exact place +which she had described, and then running across the +room to set wide open the communicating door. +</p> + +<p> +"You could just see the light gleaming on the ornaments +and panels of the Sedan chair, on the other side of +the fireplace on your right. So! And there, +Mademoiselle, you stood in the darkness and," his words +lengthened out now with tiny intervals between each +one—"you heard the sound of the struggle in the bedroom +and caught some words spoken in a clear whisper." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Ann replied with a shiver. The solemn manner +of authority with which he spoke obviously alarmed her. +She looked at him with troubled eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Then will you stand there once more," he continued, +"and once more listen as you listened on that night. I +thank you!" He went away to Betty. "Now, Mademoiselle, +and you, Francine Rollard, will you both please +come with me." +</p> + +<p> +He walked towards the communicating door but Betty +did not even attempt to rise from her chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud," she said with her cheeks very +white and her voice shaking, "I can guess what you +propose to do. But it is horrible and rather cruel to us. +And I cannot see how it will help." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott broke in before Hanaud could reply. She +was more troubled even than Betty, though without doubt +hers was to be the easier part. +</p> + +<p> +"It cannot help at all," she said. "Why must we +pretend now the dreadful thing which was lived then?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud turned about in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"Ladies, I beg you to let me have my way. I think +that when I have finished, you will yourselves understand +that my experiment has not been without its use. I +understand of course that moments like these bring their +distress. But—you will pardon me—I am not thinking +of you"—and there was so much quietude and gravity in +the detective's voice that his words, harsh though they +were, carried with them no offence. "No, I am thinking +of a woman more than double the age of either of you, +whose unhappy life came to an end here on the night of +the 27th of April. I am remembering two photographs +which you, Mademoiselle Harlowe, showed me this +morning—I am moved by them. Yes, that is the truth." +</p> + +<p> +He closed his eyes as if he saw those two portraits with +their dreadful contrast impressed upon his eyelids. "I +am her advocate," he cried aloud in a stirring voice. "The +tragic woman, I stand for her! If she was done to death, +I mean to know and I mean to punish!" +</p> + +<p> +Never had Frobisher believed that Hanaud could have +been so transfigured, could have felt or spoken with so +much passion. He stood before them an erect and +menacing figure, all his grossness melted out of him, a +man with a flaming sword. +</p> + +<p> +"As for you two ladies, you are young. What does a +little distress matter to you? A few shivers of discomfort? +How long will they last? I beg you not to hinder +me!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty rose up from her chair without another word. +But she did not rise without an effort, and when she +stood up at last she swayed upon her feet and her face +was as white as chalk. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Francine!" she said, pronouncing her words +like a person with an impediment of speech. "We must +show Monsieur Hanaud that we are not the cowards he +takes us for." +</p> + +<p> +But Francine still held back. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand at all. I am only a poor girl and +this frightens me. The police! They set traps—the +police." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"And how often do they catch the innocent in them? +Tell me that, Mademoiselle Francine!" +</p> + +<p> +He turned almost contemptuously towards Mrs. Harlowe's +bedroom. Betty and Francine followed upon his +heels, the others trooped in behind, with Frobisher last +of all. He indeed was as reluctant to witness Hanaud's +experiment as the girls were to take a part in it. It +savoured of the theatrical. There was to be some sort +of imagined reproduction of the scene which Ann Upcott +had described, no doubt with the object of testing her +sincerity. It would really be a test of nerves more than a +test of honesty and to Jim was therefore neither reliable +nor fair play. He paused in the doorway to say a word +of encouragement to Ann, but she was gazing again with +that curious air of perplexity at the clock upon the +marquetry cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +"There is nothing to fear, Ann," he said, and she +withdrew her eyes from the clock. They were dancing now +as she turned them upon Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"I wondered whether I should ever hear you call me +by my name," she said with a smile. "Thank you, Jim!" She +hesitated and then the blood suddenly mounted into +her face. "I'll tell you, I was a little jealous," she added +in a low voice and with a little laugh at herself as though +she was a trifle ashamed of the confession. +</p> + +<p> +Jim was luckily spared the awkwardness of an answer +by the appearance of Hanaud in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"I hate to interrupt, Monsieur Frobisher," he said with +a smile; "but it is of a real importance that Mademoiselle +should listen without anything to distract her." +</p> + +<p> +Jim followed Hanaud into the bedroom, and was +startled. The Commissary and his secretary and +Monsieur Bex were in a group apart near to one of the +windows. Betty Harlowe was stretched upon Mrs. Harlowe's +bed; Francine Rollard stood against the wall, near +to the door, clearly frightened out of her wits and +glancing from side to side with the furtive restless eyes +of the half-tamed. But it was not this curious spectacle +which so surprised Jim Frobisher, but something strange, +something which almost shocked, in the aspect of Betty +herself. She was leaning up on an elbow with her eyes +fixed upon the doorway and the queerest, most inscrutable +fierce look in them that he had ever seen. She was quite +lost to her environment. The experiment from which +Francine shrank had no meaning for her. She was +possessed—the old phrase leapt into Jim's thoughts—though +her face was as still as a mass, a mask of frozen passion. +It was only for a second, however, that the strange seizure +lasted. Betty's face relaxed; she dropped back upon +the bed with her eyes upon Hanaud like one waiting for +instructions. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud, by pointing a finger, directed Jim to take +his place amongst the group at the window. He placed +himself upon one side of the bed, and beckoned to +Francine. Very slowly she approached the end of the bed. +Hanaud directed her in the same silent way to come opposite +to him on the other side of the bed. For a little while +Francine refused. She stood stubbornly shaking her +head at the very foot of the bed. She was terrified of +some trick, and when at last at a sign from Betty she took +up the position assigned to her, she minced to it gingerly +as though she feared the floor would open beneath her +feet. Hanaud made her another sign and she looked at a +scrap of paper on which Hanaud had written some words. +The paper and her orders had obviously been given to +her whilst Jim was talking to Ann Upcott. Francine +knew what she was to do, but her suspicious peasant +nature utterly rebelled against it. Hanaud beckoned to +her with his eyes riveted upon her compelling her, and +against her will she bent forwards over the bed and across +Betty Harlowe's body. +</p> + +<p> +A nod from Hanaud now, and she spoke in a low, clear +whisper: +</p> + +<p> +"That—will—do—now." +</p> + +<p> +And hardly had she spoken those few words which +Ann Upcott said she had heard on the night of +Mrs. Harlowe's death, but Hanaud himself must repeat them +and also in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Having whispered, he cried aloud towards the doorway +in his natural voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you hear, Mademoiselle? Was that the whisper +which reached your ears on the night when Madame +died?" +</p> + +<p> +All those in the bedroom waited for the answer in +suspense. Francine Rollard, indeed, with her eyes fixed +upon Hanaud in a very agony of doubt. And the answer +came. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but whoever whispered, whispered twice this +afternoon. On the night when I came down in the dark +to the treasure room, the words were only whispered +once." +</p> + +<p> +"It was the same voice which whispered them twice, +Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes ... I think so ... I noticed no difference +... Yes." +</p> + +<p> +And Hanaud flung out his arms with a comic gesture +of despair, and addressed the room. +</p> + +<p> +"You understand now my little experiment. A voice +that whispers! How shall one tell it from another voice +that whispers! There is no intonation, no depth, no +lightness. There is not even sex in a voice which +whispers. We have no clue, no, not the slightest to the +identity of the person who whispered, 'That will do now,' +on the night when Madame Harlowe died." He waved +his hand towards Monsieur Bex. "I will be glad if you +will open now these cupboards, and Mademoiselle Harlowe +will tell us, to the best of her knowledge, whether +anything has been taken or anything disturbed." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud returned to the treasure room, leaving +Monsieur Bex and Betty at their work, with the Commissary +and his secretary to supervise them. Jim Frobisher +followed him. He was very far from believing that +Hanaud had truthfully explained the intention of his +experiment. The impossibility of identifying a voice +which whispers! Here was something with which +Hanaud must have been familiar from a hundred cases! +No, that interpretation would certainly not work. There +was quite another true reason for this melodramatic little +scene which he had staged. He was following Hanaud in +the hope of finding out that reason, when he heard him +speaking in a low voice, and he stopped inside the +dressing-room close to the communicating door where he could +hear every word and yet not be seen himself. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle," Hanaud was saying to Ann Upcott, +"there is something about this clock here which troubles +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—of course it's nonsense.... I must be wrong.... +For here is the cabinet and on it stands the clock." +</p> + +<p> +Jim could gather from the two voices that they were +both standing together close to the marquetry cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," Hanaud urged. "Still you are troubled." +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's silence. Jim could imagine the +girl looking from the clock to the door by which she had +stood, and back again from the door to the clock. Surely +that scene in the bedroom had been staged to extort some +admission from Ann Upcott of the falsity of her story. +Was he now, since the experiment had failed, resorting +to another trick, setting a fresh trap? +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" he asked insistently. "Why are you +troubled?" +</p> + +<p> +"It seems to me," Ann replied in a voice of doubt, +"that the clock is lower now than it was. Of course it +can't be ... and I had only one swift glimpse of it.... +Yet my recollection is so vivid—the room standing +out revealed in the moment of bright light, and then +vanishing into darkness again.... Yes, the clock +seemed to me to be placed higher..." and suddenly +she stopped as if a warning hand had been laid upon her +arm. Would she resume? Jim was still wondering when +silently, like a swift animal, Hanaud was in the doorway +and confronting him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur Frobisher," he said with an odd note +of relief in his voice, "we shall have to enlist you in the +Sûrété very soon. That I can see. Come in!" +</p> + +<p> +He took Jim by the arm and led him into the room. +</p> + +<p> +"As for that matter of the clock, Mademoiselle, the +light goes up and goes out—it would have been a marvel +if you had within that flash of vision seen every detail +precisely true. No, there is nothing there!" He flung +himself into a chair and sat for a little while silent in an +attitude of dejection. +</p> + +<p> +"You said this morning to me, Monsieur, that I had +nothing to go upon, that I was guessing here, and guessing +there, stirring up old troubles which had better be +left quietly in their graves, and at the end discovering +nothing. Upon my word, I believe you are right! My +little experiment! Was there ever a failure more abject?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud sat up alertly. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher had had a brain wave. The utter +disappointment upon Hanaud's face and in his attitude had +enlightened him. Yes, his experiment had failed. For +it was aimed at Francine Rollard. He had summoned +her without warning, he had bidden her upon the instant +to act a scene, nay, to take the chief part in it, in the +hope that it would work upon her and break her down to +a confession of guilt. He suspected Ann. Well, then, +Ann must have had an accomplice. To discover the +accomplice—there was the object of the experiment. And +it had failed abjectedly, as Hanaud himself confessed. +Francine had shrunk from the ordeal, no doubt, but the +reason of the shrinking was manifest—fear of the police, +suspicion of a trap, the furtive helplessness of the +ignorant. She had not delivered herself into Hanaud's +toils. But not a word of this conjecture did Jim reveal +to Hanaud. To his question what was the matter, he +answered simply: +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud beat with the palms of his hands upon the arms +of his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, eh? nothing! That's the only answer in +this case. To every question! To every search! Nothing, +nothing, nothing;" and as he ended in a sinking voice, +a startled cry rang out in the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty!" Ann exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud threw off his dejection like an overcoat. Jim +fancied that he was out of his chair and across the +dressing-room before the sound of the cry had ceased. +Certainly Betty could not have moved. She was standing in +front of the dressing-table, looking down at a big jewel-case +of dark blue morocco leather, and she was lifting up +and down the open lid of it with an expression of utter +incredulity. +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" said Hanaud. "It is unlocked. We have +something, after all, Monsieur Frobisher. Here is a +jewel-case unlocked, and jewel-cases do not unlock +themselves. It was here?" +</p> + +<p> +He looked towards the cupboard in the wall, of which +the door stood open. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Betty. "I opened the door, and took the +case out by the side handles. The lid came open when +I touched it." +</p> + +<p> +"Will you look through it, please, and see whether +anything is missing?" +</p> + +<p> +While Betty began to examine the contents of the +jewel-case, Hanaud went to Francine, who stood apart. +He took her by the arm and led her to the door. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry if I frightened you, Francine," he said. +"But, after all, we are not such alarming people, the +Police, eh? No, so long as good little maids hold their +good little tongues, we can be very good friends. Of +course, if there is chatter, little Francine, and gossip, little +Francine, and that good-looking baker's boy is to-morrow +spreading over Dijon the story of Hanaud's little experiment, +Hanaud will know where to look for the chatterers." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, I shall not say one word," cried Francine. +</p> + +<p> +"And how wise that will be, little Francine!" Hanaud +rejoined in a horribly smooth and silky voice. "For +Hanaud can be the wickedest of wicked Uncles to +naughty little chatterers. Ohhoho, yes! He seizes them +tight—so—and it will be ever so long before he says to +them 'That—will—do—now!'" +</p> + +<p> +He rounded off his threats with a quite friendly laugh +and gently pushed Francine Rollard from the room. +Then he returned to Betty, who had lifted the tray out +of the box and was opening some smaller cases which had +been lying at the bottom. The light danced upon pendant +and bracelet, buckle and ring, but Betty still searched. +</p> + +<p> +"You miss something, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"It was, after all, certain that you would," Hanaud +continued. "If murders are committed, there will be +some reason. I will even venture to guess that the jewel +which you miss is of great value." +</p> + +<p> +"It is," Betty admitted. "But I expect it has only been +mislaid. No doubt we shall find it somewhere, tucked +away in a drawer." She spoke with very great eagerness, +and a note of supplication that the matter should rest +there. "In any case, what has disappeared is mine, isn't +it? And I am not going to imitate Monsieur Boris. I +make no complaint." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"You are very kind, Mademoiselle. But we cannot, +alas! say here 'That will do now.'" It was strange to +Jim to notice how he kept harping upon the words of +that whisper. "We are not dealing with a case of theft, +but with a case of murder. We must go on. What is it +that you miss?" +</p> + +<p> +"A pearl necklace," Betty answered reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +"A big one?" +</p> + +<p> +It was noticeable that as Betty's reluctance increased +Hanaud became more peremptory and abrupt. +</p> + +<p> +"Not so very." +</p> + +<p> +"Describe it to me, Mademoiselle!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty hesitated. She stood with a troubled face looking +out upon the garden. Then with a shrug of resignation +she obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +"There were thirty-five pearls—not so very large, but +they were perfectly matched and of a beautiful pink. +My uncle took a great deal of trouble and some years to +collect them. Madame told me herself that they actually +cost him nearly a hundred thousand pounds. They would +be worth even more now." +</p> + +<p> +"A fortune, then," cried Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Not a person in that room had any belief that the +necklace would be found, laid aside somewhere by chance. +Here was Hanaud's case building itself up steadily. +Another storey was added to it this afternoon. This or +that experiment might fail. What did that matter? A +motive for the murder came to light now. Jim had an +intuition that nothing now could prevent a definite result; +that the truth, like a beam of light that travels for a +million of years, would in the end strike upon a dark spot, +and that some one would stand helpless and dazzled in a +glare—the criminal. +</p> + +<p> +"Who knew of this necklace of yours, Mademoiselle, +beside yourself?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Every one in the house, Monsieur. Madame wore it +nearly always." +</p> + +<p> +"She wore it, then, on the day of her death?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I——" Betty began, and she turned towards +Ann for confirmation, and then swiftly turned away +again. "I think so." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure of it," said Ann steadily, though her +face had grown rather white and her eyes anxious. +</p> + +<p> +"How long has Francine Rollard been with you?" +Hanaud asked of Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Three years. No—a little more. She is the only +maid I have ever had," Betty answered with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," Hanaud said thoughtfully; and what he saw, +it seemed to Jim Frobisher that every one else in that +room saw too. For no one looked at Ann Upcott. Old +servants do not steal valuable necklaces: Ann Upcott and +Jeanne Baudin, the nurse, were the only new-comers to +the Maison Crenelle these many years; and Jeanne Baudin +had the best of characters. Thus the argument seemed +to run though no one expressed it in words. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud turned his attention to the lock of the cupboard, +and shook his head over it. Then he crossed to +the dressing-table and the morocco case. +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" he said with a lively interest. "This is a +different affair;" and he bent down closely over it. +</p> + +<p> +The case was not locked with a key at all. There were +three small gilt knobs in the front of the case, and the +lock was set by the number of revolutions given to each +knob. These, of course, could be varied with each knob, +and all must be known before the case could be +opened—Mrs. Harlowe's jewels had been guarded by a formula. +</p> + +<p> +"There has been no violence used here," said Hanaud, +standing up again. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course my aunt may have forgotten to lock the +case," said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course that's possible," Hanaud agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"And of course this room was open to any one between +the time of my aunt's funeral and Sunday morning, when +the doors were sealed." +</p> + +<p> +"A week, in fact—with Boris Waberski in the house," +said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes ... yes," said Betty. "Only ... but I +expect it is just mislaid and we shall find it. You see +Monsieur Boris expected to get some money from my +lawyers in London. No doubt he meant to make a bargain +with me. It doesn't look as if he had stolen it. He +wouldn't want a thousand pounds if he had." +</p> + +<p> +Jim had left Boris out of his speculations. He had +recollected him with a thrill of hope that he would be +discovered to be the thief when Hanaud mentioned his +name. But the hope died away again before the reluctant +and deadly reasoning of Betty Harlowe. On the other +hand, if Boris and Ann were really accomplices in the +murder, because he wanted his legacy, the necklace might +well have been Ann's share. More and more, whichever +way one looked at it, the facts pointed damningly towards +Ann. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we will see if it has been mislaid," said Hanaud. +"But meanwhile, Mademoiselle, it would be well for you +to lock that case up and to take it some time this afternoon +to your bankers." +</p> + +<p> +Betty shut down the lid and spun the knobs one after +the other. Three times a swift succession of sharp little +clicks was heard in the room. +</p> + +<p> +"You have not used, I hope, the combination which +Madame Harlowe used," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"I never knew the combination she used," said Betty. +She lifted the jewel-case back into its cupboard; and the +search of the drawers and the cupboards began. But it +was as barren of result as had been the search of the +treasure-room for the arrow. +</p> + +<p> +"We can do no more," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. One thing more." +</p> + +<p> +The correction came quietly from Ann Upcott. She +was standing by herself, very pale and defiant. She +knew now that she was suspected. The very care with +which every one had avoided even looking at her had left +her in no doubt. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked about the room. +</p> + +<p> +"What more can we do?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"You can search my rooms." +</p> + +<p> +"No!" cried Betty violently. "I won't have it!" +</p> + +<p> +"If you please," said Ann. "It is only fair to me." +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex nodded violently. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle could not be more correct," said he. +</p> + +<p> +Ann addressed herself to Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not go with you. There is nothing locked in +my room except a small leather dispatch-case. You will +find the key to that in the left-hand drawer of my +dressing-table. I will wait for you in the library." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud bowed, and before he could move from his +position Betty did a thing for which Jim could have +hugged her there and then before them all. She went +straight to Ann and set her arm about her waist. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll wait with you, Ann," she said. "Of course it's +ridiculous," and she led Ann out of the room. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER FIFTEEN: <i>The Finding of the Arrow</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Ann's rooms were upon the second floor with the +windows upon the garden, a bedroom and a sitting-room +communicating directly with one another. They +were low in the roof, but spacious, and Hanaud, as he +looked around the bedroom, said in a tone of doubt: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes ... after all, if one were frightened suddenly +out of one's wits, one might stumble about this room in +the dark and lose one's way to the light switch. There +isn't one over the bed." Then he shrugged his shoulders. +"But, to be sure, one would be careful that one's details +could be verified. So——" and the doubt passed out of +his voice. +</p> + +<p> +The words were all Greek to the Commissary of Police +and his secretary and Monsieur Bex. Maurice Thevenet, +indeed, looked sharply at Hanaud, as if he was on the +point of asking one of those questions which he had been +invited to ask. But Girardot, the Commissary who was +panting heavily with his ascent of two flights of stairs, +spoke first. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall find nothing to interest us here," he said. +"That pretty girl would never have asked us to pry about +amongst her dainty belongings if there had been +anything to discover." +</p> + +<p> +"One never knows," replied Hanaud. "Let us see!" +</p> + +<p> +Jim walked away into the sitting-room. He had no +wish to follow step by step Hanaud and the Commissary +in their search; and he had noticed on the table in the +middle of the room a blotting-pad and some notepaper and the +materials for writing. He wanted to get all this whirl of +conjecture and fact and lies, in which during the last two +days he had lived, sorted and separated and set in order +in his mind; and he knew no better way of doing so than +by putting it all down shortly in the "for" and "against" +style of Robinson Crusoe on his desert island. He would +have a quiet hour or so whilst Hanaud indefatigably +searched. He took a sheet of paper, selected a pen at +random from the tray and began. It cost Ann Upcott, +however, a good many sheets of notepaper, and more than +once the nib dropped out of his pen-holder and was forced +back into it before he had finished. But he had his +problem reduced at last to these terms: +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<table style="width: 100%"> +<tr> +<th style="width: 50%; text-align: center"> +For +</th> +<th style="width: 50%; text-align: center"> +Against +</th> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(1) Although suspicion that +murder had been committed +arose in the first instance only +from the return to its shelf of +the "Treatise on Sporanthus +Hispidus," subsequent developments, +e.g., the disappearance of +the Poison Arrow, the introduction +into the case of the ill-famed +Jean Cladel, Ann Upcott's story +of her visit to the Treasure +Room, and now the mystery of +Mrs. Harlowe's pearl necklace, +make out a prima facie case for +inquiry. + +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +But in the absence of any +trace of poison in the dead +woman's body, it is difficult to +see how the criminal can be +brought to justice, except by +<br /><br /> +(a) A confession. +<br /><br /> +(b) The commission of another +crime of a similar kind. +Hanaud's theory—once a +poisoner always a poisoner. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(2) If murder was committed, +it is probable that it was +committed at half-past ten at night +when Ann Upcott in the Treasure +Room heard the sound of a +struggle and the whisper, "That +will do now." +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +Ann Upcott's story may be +partly or wholly false. She +knew that Mrs. Harlowe's +bedroom was to be opened and +examined. If she also knew that +the pearl necklace had +disappeared, she must have realised +that it would be advisable for +her to tell some story before its +disappearance was discovered, +which would divert suspicion +from her. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(3) It is clear that whoever +committed the murder, if murder +was committed, Betty Harlowe +had nothing to do with it. She +had an ample allowance. She +was at M. Pouillac's Ball on +the night. Moreover, once +Mrs. Harlowe was dead, the necklace +became Betty Harlowe's +property. Had she committed the +murder, the necklace would not +have disappeared. +<br /><br /> +(4) Who then are possibly +guilty? +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +It is possible that the +disappearance of the necklace is in +no way connected with the +murder, if murder there was. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(i) The servants. +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +(i) All of them have many +years of service to their credit. +It is not possible that any of +them would have understood +enough of the "Treatise on +Sporanthus Hispidus" to make +use of it. If any of them were +concerned it can only be as an +accessory or assistant working +under the direction of another. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(ii) Jeanne Baudin the nurse. +<br /><br /> +More attention might be given +to her. It is too easily accepted +that she has nothing to do +with it. +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +No one suspects her. Her +record is good. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(iii) Francine Rollard. She +was certainly frightened this +afternoon. The necklace would +be a temptation. +<br /><br /> +Was it she who bent over Ann +Upcott in the darkness? +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +She was frightened of the +police as a class, rather than of +being accused of a crime. She +acted her part in the reconstruction +scene without breaking +down. If she were concerned, it +could only be for the reason +given above, as an assistant. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(iv) Ann Upcott. +<br /><br /> +Her introduction into the +Maison Crenelle took place +through Waberski and under +dubious circumstances. She is +poor, a paid companion, and the +necklace is worth a considerable +fortune. +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +Her introductions may be +explicable on favourable grounds. +Until we know more of her +history it is impossible to judge. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +She was in the house on the +night of Mrs. Harlowe's death. +She told Gaston he could turn +out the lights and go to bed +early that evening. She could +easily have admitted Waberski +and received the necklace as the +price of her complicity. +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +Her account of the night of +the 27th April may be true from +beginning to end. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +The story she told us in the +garden may have been the true +story of what occurred adapted. +It may have been she who +whispered "That will do now." +She may have whispered it to +Waberski. +<br /><br /> +Her connection with Waberski +was sufficiently close to make +him count upon Ann's support +in his charge against Betty. +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +In that case the theory of a +murder is enormously strengthened. +But who whispered, "That +will do now"?And who was +bending over Ann Upcott when +she waked up? +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +(v) Waberski. +<br /><br /> +He is a scoundrel, a would-be +blackmailer. +<br /><br /> +He was in straits for money +and he expected a thumping +legacy from Mrs. Harlowe. +<br /><br /> +He may have brought Ann +Upcott into the house with the +thought of murder in his mind. +<br /><br /> +Having failed to obtain any +profit from his crime, he accuses +Betty of the same crime as a +blackmailing proposition. +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdleft"> +As soon as he knew that +Mrs. Harlowe had been exhumed and +an autopsy made he collapsed. +He knew, if he had used himself +the poison arrow, that no trace +of poison would be found. +<br /><br /> +He knew of Jean Cladel, and +according to his own story was +in the Rue Gambetta close to +Jean Cladel's shop. It is possible +that he himself had been visiting +Cladel to pay for the solution of +Strophanthus. +</td> +<td class="tdright"> +But he would have collapsed +equally if he had believed that +no murder had been committed +at all. +</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +If murder was committed the two people most +obviously suspect are Ann Upcott and Waberski +working in collusion. +</p> + +<p> +To this conclusion Jim Frobisher was reluctantly +brought, but even whilst writing it down there were +certain questions racing through his mind to which he could +find no answer. He was well aware that he was an utter +novice in such matters as the investigation of crimes; and +he recognised that were the answers to these questions +known to him, some other direction might be given to +his thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly he wrote those troublesome questions +beneath his memorandum—thus: +</p> + +<p> +But +</p> + +<p> +(1) Why does Hanaud attach no importance to the +return of the "Treatise on Sporanthus Hispidus" to +its place in the library? +</p> + +<p> +(2) What was it which so startled him upon the +top of the Terrace Tower? +</p> + +<p> +(3) What was it that he had in his mind to say to +me at the Café in the Place D'Armes and in the end +did not say? +</p> + +<p> +(4) Why did Hanaud search every corner of the +treasure room for the missing poison arrow—except +the interior of the Sedan chair? +</p> + +<p> +The noise of a door gently closing aroused him from +his speculations. He looked across the room. Hanaud +had just entered it from the bedroom, shutting the +communicating door behind him. He stood with his hand +upon the door-knob gazing at Frobisher with a curious +startled stare. He moved swiftly to the end of the table +at which Jim was sitting. +</p> + +<p> +"How you help me!" he said in a low voice and smiling. +"How you do help me!" +</p> + +<p> +Alert though Jim's ears were to a note of ridicule, he +could discover not a hint of it. Hanaud was speaking +with the utmost sincerity, his eyes very bright and his +heavy face quite changed by that uncannily sharp expression +which Jim had learned to associate with some new +find in the development of the case. +</p> + +<p> +"May I see what you have written?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"It could be of no value to you," Jim replied modestly, +but Hanaud would have none of it. +</p> + +<p> +"It is always of value to know what the other man +thinks, and even more what the other man sees. What +did I say to you in Paris? The last thing one sees one's +self is the thing exactly under one's nose"; and he began +to laugh lightly but continuously and with a great deal of +enjoyment, which Jim did not understand. He gave in, +however, over his memorandum and pushed it along to +Hanaud, ashamed of it as something schoolboyish, but +hopeful that some of these written questions might be +answered. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud sat down at the end of the table close to Jim +and read the items and the questions very slowly with an +occasional grunt, and a still more occasional "Aha!" but +with a quite unchanging face. Jim was in two minds +whether to snatch it from his hands and tear it up or dwell +upon its recollected phrases with a good deal of pride. +One thing was clear. Hanaud took it seriously. +</p> + +<p> +He sat musing over it for a moment or two. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, here are questions, and dilemmas." He looked +at Frobisher with friendliness. "I shall make you an +allegory. I have a friend who is a matador in Spain. +He told me about the bull and how foolish those people +are who think the bull not clever. Yes, but do not jump +and look the offence with your eyes and tell me how very +vulgar I am and how execrable my taste. All that I know +very well. But listen to my friend the matador! He +says all that the bull wants, to kill without fail all the +bull-fighters in Spain, is a little experience. And very little, +he learns so quick. Look! Between the entrance of the +bull into the arena and his death there are reckoned +twenty minutes. And there should not be more, if the +matador is wise. The bull—he learns so quick the +warfare of the ring. Well, I am an old bull who has fought +in the arena many times. This is your first corrida. +But only ten minutes of the twenty have passed. Already +you have learned much. Yes, here are some shrewd +questions which I had not expected you to ask. When the +twenty are gone, you will answer them all for yourself. +Meanwhile"—he took up another pen and made a tiny +addition to item one—"I carry this on one step farther. +See!" +</p> + +<p> +He replaced the memorandum under Jim's eyes. Jim +read: +</p> + +<p> +"—subsequent developments, e.g., the disappearance of +the Poison Arrow, the introduction into the case of the +ill-famed Jean Cladel, Ann Upcott's story of her visit to +the treasure-room, and now the mystery of Mrs. Harlowe's +pearl necklace, <i>and the finding of the arrow</i>, make +out a prima facie case for inquiry." +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Jim sprang to his feet in excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"You have found the arrow, then?" he cried, glancing +towards the door of Ann Upcott's bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +"Not I, my friend," replied Hanaud with a grin. +</p> + +<p> +"The Commissaire, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not the Commissaire." +</p> + +<p> +"His secretary, then?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim sat down again in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry. He wears cheap rings. I don't like him." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud broke into a laugh of delight. +</p> + +<p> +"Console yourself! I, too, don't like that young +gentleman of whom they are all so proud. Maurice +Thevenet has found nothing." +</p> + +<p> +Jim looked at Hanaud in a perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is a riddle," he said. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud rubbed his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +"Prove to me that you have been ten minutes in the +bull-ring," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"I think that I have only been five," Jim replied with +a smile. "Let me see! The arrow had not been +discovered when we first entered these rooms?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"And it is discovered now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And it was not discovered by you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor the Commissaire?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor Maurice Thevenet?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +Jim stared and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not been one minute in the bull-ring. I don't +understand." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's face was all alight with enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I take your memorandum and I write again." +</p> + +<p> +He hid the paper from Jim Frobisher's eyes with the +palm of his left hand, whilst he wrote with his right. +Then with a triumphant gesture he laid it again before +Jim. The last question of all had been answered in +Hanaud's neat, small handwriting. +</p> + +<p> +Jim read: +</p> + +<p class="quote"> +(4) Why did Hanaud search every corner of the +treasure-room for the missing Poison Arrow—except +the interior of the Sedan chair? +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Underneath the question Hanaud had written as if it +was Jim Frobisher himself who answered the question: +</p> + +<p class="quote"> +"It was wrong of Hanaud to forget to examine the +Sedan chair, but fortunately no harm has resulted +from that lamentable omission. For Life, the +incorrigible Dramatist, had arranged that the head of the +arrow-shaft should be the pen-holder with which I +have written this memorandum." +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Jim looked at the pen-holder and dropped it with a +startled cry. +</p> + +<p> +There it was—the slender, pencil-like shaft expanding +into a slight bulb where the fingers held it, and the nib +inserted into the tiny cleft made for the stem of the iron +dart! Jim remembered that the nib had once or twice +become loose and spluttered on the page, until he had +jammed it in violently. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a terrible thought. His jaw dropped; he +stared at Hanaud in awe. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if I sucked the end of it, whilst I was thinking +out my sentences," he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +"O Lord!" cried Hanaud, and he snatched up the pen-holder +and rubbed it hard with his pocket handkerchief. +Then he spread out the handkerchief upon the table, and +fetching a small magnifying glass from his pocket, +examined it minutely. He looked up with relief. +</p> + +<p> +"There is not the least little trace of that reddish-brown +clay which made the poison paste. The arrow was +scraped clean before it was put on that tray of pens. I +am enchanted. I cannot now afford to lose my junior +colleague." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher drew a long breath and lit a cigarette, and +gave another proof that he was a very novice of a bull. +</p> + +<p> +"What a mad thing to put the head of that arrow-shaft, +which a glance at the plates in the Treatise would +enable a child to identify, into an open tray of pens +without the slightest concealment!" he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +It looked as if Ann Upcott was wilfully pushing her +neck into the wooden ring of the guillotine. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Not so mad, my friend! The old rules are the best. +Hide a thing in some out-of-the-way corner, and it will +surely be found. Put it to lie carelessly under every one's +nose and no one will see it at all. No, no! This was +cleverly done. Who could have foreseen that instead of +looking on at our search you were going to plump +yourself down in a chair and write your memorandum so +valuable on Mademoiselle Ann's notepaper? And even +then you did not notice your pen. Why should you?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim, however, was not satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a fortnight since Mrs. Harlowe was murdered, +if she was murdered," he cried. "What I don't understand +is why the arrow wasn't destroyed altogether!" +</p> + +<p> +"But until this morning there was never any question +of the arrow," Hanaud returned. "It was a curiosity, an +item in a collection—why should one trouble to destroy +it? But this morning the arrow becomes a dangerous +thing to possess. So it must be hidden away in a hurry. +For there is not much time. An hour whilst you and I +admired Mont Blanc from the top of the Terrace Tower." +</p> + +<p> +"And while Betty was out of the house," Jim added +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—that is true," said Hanaud. "I had not thought +of it. You can add that point, Monsieur Frobisher, to +the reasons which put Mademoiselle Harlowe out of our +considerations. Yes." +</p> + +<p> +He sat lost in thought for a little while and speaking +now and then a phrase rather to himself than to his +companion: "To run up here—to cut the arrow down—to +round off the end as well as one can in a hurry—to stain +it with some varnish—to mix it with the other pens in +the tray. Not so bad!" He nodded his head in appreciation +of the trick. "But nevertheless things begin to +look black for that exquisite Mademoiselle Ann with her +delicate colour and her pretty ways." +</p> + +<p> +A noise of the shifting of furniture in the bedroom +next door attracted his attention. He removed the nib +from the arrow-head. +</p> + +<p> +"We will keep this little matter to ourselves just for +the moment," he said quickly, and he wrapped the +improvised pen-holder in a sheet of the notepaper. "Just +you and I shall know of it. No one else. This is my +case, not Girardot's. We will not inflict a great deal of +pain and trouble until we are sure." +</p> + +<p> +"I agree," said Jim eagerly. "That's right, I am sure." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud tucked the arrow-head carefully away in his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"This, too," he said, and he took up Jim Frobisher's +memorandum. "It is not a good thing to carry about, +and perhaps lose. I will put it away at the Prefecture +with the other little things I have collected." +</p> + +<p> +He put the memorandum into his letter-case and got +up from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"The rest of the arrow-shaft will be somewhere in +this room, no doubt, and quite easy to see. But we shall +not have time to look for it, and, after all, we have the +important part of it." +</p> + +<p> +He turned towards the mantelshelf, where some cards +of invitation were stuck in the frame of the mirror, just +as the door was opened and the Commissary with his +secretary came out from the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +"The necklace is not in that room," said Monsieur +Girardot in a voice of finality. +</p> + +<p> +"Nor is it here," Hanaud replied with an unblushing +assurance. "Let us go downstairs." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was utterly staggered. This room had not been +searched for the necklace at all. First the Sedan chair, +then this sitting-room was neglected. Hanaud actually +led the way out to the stairs without so much as a glance +behind him. No wonder that in Paris he had styled +himself and his brethren the Servants of Chance. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER SIXTEEN: <i>Hanaud Laughs</i> +</h3> + +<p> +At the bottom of the stairs Hanaud thanked the +Commissary of Police for his assistance. +</p> + +<p> +"As for the necklace, we shall of course search the +baggage of every one in the house," he said. "But we +shall find nothing. Of that we may be sure. For if the +necklace has been stolen, too much time has passed since +it was stolen for us to hope to find it here." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed Girardot with much respect out of the house, +whilst Monsieur Bex took Jim Frobisher a little aside. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been thinking that Mademoiselle Ann should +have some legal help," he said. "Now both you and I +are attached to the affairs of Mademoiselle Harlowe. +And—it is a little difficult to put it delicately—it may be +that the interests of those two young ladies are not identical. +It would not therefore be at all correct for me, at +all events, to offer her my services. But I can +recommend a very good lawyer in Dijon, a friend of mine. +You see, it may be important." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"It may be, indeed. Will you give me your friend's +address?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst he was writing the address down Hanaud +startled him by breaking unexpectedly into a loud laugh. +The curious thing was that there was nothing whatever to +account for it. Hanaud was standing by himself between +them and the front door. In the courtyard outside there +was no one within view. Within the hall Jim and +Monsieur Bex were talking very seriously in a low voice. +Hanaud was laughing at the empty air and his laughter +betokened a very strong sense of relief. +</p> + +<p> +"That I should have lived all these years and never +noticed that before," he cried aloud in a sort of +amazement that there could be anything capable of notice which +he, Hanaud, had not noticed. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" asked Jim. +</p> + +<p> +But Hanaud did not answer at all. He dashed back +through the hall past Frobisher and his companion, +vanished into the treasure-room, closed the door behind +him and actually locked it. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex jerked his chin high in the air. +</p> + +<p> +"He is an eccentric, that one. He would not do for +Dijon." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was for defending Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"He must act. That is true," he replied. "Whatever +he does and however keenly he does it, he sees a row of +footlights in front of him." +</p> + +<p> +"There are men like that," Monsieur Bex agreed. Like +all Frenchmen, he was easy in his mind if he could place +a man in a category. +</p> + +<p> +"But he is doing something which is quite important," +Jim continued, swelling a little with pride. He felt that +he had been quite fifteen minutes in the bull-ring. "He +is searching for something somewhere. I told him about +it. He had overlooked it altogether. I reproached him +this morning with his reluctance to take suggestions from +people only too anxious to help him. But I did him +obviously some injustice. He is quite willing." +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex was impressed and a little envious. +</p> + +<p> +"I must think of some suggestions to make to Hanaud," +he said. "Yes, yes! Was there not once a pearl necklace +in England which was dropped in a match-box into the +gutter when the pursuit became too hot? I have read of +it, I am sure. I must tell Hanaud that he should spend a +day or two picking up the match-boxes in the gutters. He +may be very likely to come across that necklace of +Madame Harlowe's. Yes, certainly." +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex was considerably elated by the bright +idea which had come to him. He felt that he was again +upon a level with his English colleague. He saw Hanaud +pouncing his way along the streets of Dijon and +explaining to all who questioned him: "This is the idea of +Monsieur Bex, the notary. You know, Monsieur Bex, +of the Place Etienne Dolet." Until somewhere near—but +Monsieur Bex had not actually located the particular +gutter in which Hanaud should discover the match-box +with the priceless beads, when the library door opened and +Betty came out into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the two men in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"And Monsieur Hanaud?" she asked. "I didn't see +him go." +</p> + +<p> +"He is in your treasure-room," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" Betty exclaimed in a voice which showed her +interest. "He has gone back there!" +</p> + +<p> +She walked quickly to the door and tried the handle. +</p> + +<p> +"Locked!" she cried with a little start of surprise. She +spoke without turning round. "He has locked himself +in! Why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because of the footlights," Monsieur Bex answered, +and Betty turned about and stared at him. "Yes, we +came to that conclusion, Monsieur Frobisher and I. +Everything he does must ring a curtain down;" and once +more the key turned in the lock. +</p> + +<p> +Betty swung round again as the sound reached her ears +and came face to face with Hanaud. Hanaud looked +over her shoulder at Frobisher and shook his head +ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not find it, then?" Jim asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked away from Jim to Betty Harlowe. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Frobisher put an idea into my head, +Mademoiselle. I had not looked into that exquisite Sedan +chair. It might well be that the necklace had been hidden +behind the cushions. But it is not there." +</p> + +<p> +"And you locked the door, Monsieur," said Betty +stiffly. "The door of my room, I ask you to notice." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud drew himself erect. +</p> + +<p> +"I did, Mademoiselle," he replied. "And then?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty hesitated with some sharp rejoinder on the tip +of her tongue. But she did not speak it. She shrugged +her shoulders and said coldly as she turned from him: +</p> + +<p> +"You are within your rights, no doubt, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud smiled at her good-humouredly. He had +offended her again. She was showing him once more +the petulant, mutinous child in her which he had seen the +morning before. But the smile did remain upon his face. +In the doorway of the library Ann Upcott was standing, +her face still very pale, and fires smouldering in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You searched my rooms, I hope, Monsieur," she said +in a challenging voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Thoroughly, Mademoiselle." +</p> + +<p> +"And you did not find the necklace?" +</p> + +<p> +"No!" and he walked straight across the hall to her +with a look suddenly grown stern. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, I should like you to answer me a question. +But you need not. I wish you to understand that. +You have a right to reserve your answers for the Office +of the Examining Magistrate and then give them only in +the presence of and with the consent of your legal adviser. +Monsieur Bex will assure you that is so." +</p> + +<p> +The girl's defiance weakened. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you wish to ask me?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly how you came to the Maison Crenelle." +</p> + +<p> +The fire died out of her eyes; Ann's eyelids fluttered +down. She stretched out a hand against the jamb of the +door to steady herself. Jim wondered whether she +guessed that the head of Simon Harlowe's arrow was now +hidden in Hanaud's pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"I was at Monte Carlo," she began and stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"And quite alone?" Hanaud continued relentlessly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And without money?" +</p> + +<p> +"With a little money," Ann corrected. +</p> + +<p> +"Which you lost," Hanaud rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And at Monte Carlo you made the acquaintance of +Boris Waberski?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And so you came to the Maison Crenelle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"It is all very curious, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud +gravely, and "If it were only curious!" Jim Frobisher +wished with all his heart. For Ann Upcott quailed before +the detective's glance. It seemed to him that with another +question from him, an actual confession would falter and +stumble from her lips. A confession of complicity with +Boris Waberski! And then? Jim caught a dreadful +glimpse of the future which awaited her. The guillotine? +Probably a fate much worse. For that would be over +soon and she at rest. A few poignant weeks, an agony of +waiting, now in an intoxication of hope, now in the lowest +hell of terror; some dreadful minutes at the breaking of a +dawn—and an end! That would be better after all than +the endless years of sordid heart-breaking labour, coarse +food and clothes, amongst the criminals of a convict +prison in France. +</p> + +<p> +Jim turned his eyes away from her with a shiver of +discomfort and saw with a queer little shock that Betty +was watching him with a singular intentness; as if what +interested her was not so much Ann's peril as his feeling +about it. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Ann had made up her mind. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall tell you at once the little there is to tell," she +declared. The words were brave enough, but the bravery +ended with the words. She had provoked the short +interrogatory with a clear challenge. She ended it in a +hardly audible whisper. However, she managed to tell +her story, leaning there against the post of the door. +Indeed her voice strengthened as she went on and once a +smile of real amusement flickered about her lips and in +her eyes and set the dimples playing in her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Up to eighteen months ago she had lived with her +mother, a widow, in Dorsetshire, a few miles behind +Weymouth. The pair of them lived with difficulty. For +Mrs. Upcott found herself in as desperate a position as +England provides for gentlewomen. She was a small +landowner taxed up to her ears, and then rated over the +top of her head. Ann for her part was thought in the +neighbourhood to have promise as an artist. On the +death of her mother the estate was sold as a toy to a +manufacturer, and Ann with a small purse and a +sack-load of ambitions set out for London. +</p> + +<p> +"It took me a year to understand that I was and should +remain an amateur. I counted over my money. I had +three hundred pounds left. What was I going to do with +it? It wasn't enough to set me up in a shop. On the +other hand, I hated the idea of dependence. So I made +up my mind to have ten wild gorgeous days at Monte +Carlo and make a fortune, or lose the lot." +</p> + +<p> +It was then that the smile set her eyes dancing. +</p> + +<p> +"I should do the same again," she cried quite unrepentantly. +"I had never been out of England in my life, but I +knew a good deal of schoolgirl's French. I bought a few +frocks and hats and off I went. I had the most glorious +time. I was nineteen. Everything from the sleeping-cars +to the croupiers enchanted me. I stayed at one of the +smaller hotels up the hill. I met one or two people whom +I knew and they introduced me into the Sporting Club. +Oh, and lots and lots of people wanted to be kind to me!" +she cried. +</p> + +<p> +"That is thoroughly intelligible," said Hanaud dryly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but quite nice people too," Ann rejoined. Her +face was glowing with the recollections of that short +joyous time. She had forgotten, for the moment, +altogether the predicament in which she stood, or she +was acting with an artfulness which Hanaud could hardly +have seen surpassed in all his experience of criminals. +</p> + +<p> +"There was a croupier, for instance, at the trente-et-quarante +table in the big room of the Sporting Club. I +always tried to sit next to him. For he saw that no one +stole my money and that when I was winning I insured +my stake and clawed a little off the heap from time to +time. I was there for five weeks and I had made four +hundred pounds—and then came three dreadful nights +and I lost everything except thirty pounds which I had +stowed away in the hotel safe." She nodded across the +hall towards Jim. "Monsieur Frobisher can tell you +about the last night. For he sat beside me and very +prettily tried to make me a present of a thousand francs." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud, however, was not to be diverted. +</p> + +<p> +"Afterwards he shall tell me," he said, and resumed +his questions. "You had met Waberski before that +night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, a fortnight before. But I can't remember who +introduced me." +</p> + +<p> +"And Mademoiselle Harlowe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Boris introduced me a day or two later to +Betty at tea-time in the lounge of the Hôtel de Paris." +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" said Hanaud. He glanced at Jim with an +almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders. It was, +indeed, becoming more and more obvious that Waberski +had brought Ann Upcott into that household deliberately, +as part of a plan carefully conceived and in due time to +be fulfilled. +</p> + +<p> +"When did Waberski first suggest that you should join +Mademoiselle Harlowe?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"That last night," Ann replied. "He had been standing +opposite to me on the other side of the trente-et-quarante +table. He saw that I had been losing." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Hanaud, nodding his head. "He thought +that the opportune moment had come." +</p> + +<p> +He extended his arms and let his hands fall against his +thighs. He was like a doctor presented with a hopeless +case. He turned half aside from Ann with his shoulders +bent and his troubled eyes fixed upon the marble squares +of the floor. Jim could not but believe that he was at +this moment debating whether he should take the girl +into custody. But Betty intervened. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not be misled, Monsieur Hanaud," she said +quickly, "It is true no doubt that Monsieur Boris +mentioned the subject to Ann for the first time that night. +But I had already told both my aunt and Monsieur Boris +that I should like a friend of my own age to live with +me and I had mentioned Ann." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked up at her doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"On so short an acquaintance, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +Betty, however, stuck to her guns. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I liked her very much from the beginning. She +was alone. It was quite clear that she was of our own +world. There was every good reason why I should wish +for her. And the four months she has been with me +have proved to me that I was right." +</p> + +<p> +She crossed over to Ann with a defiant little nod at +Hanaud, who responded with a cordial grin and dropped +into English. +</p> + +<p> +"So I can push that into my pipe and puff it, as my +dear Ricardo would say. That is what you mean? Well, +against loyalty, the whole world is powerless." As he +made Betty a friendly bow. He could hardly have told +Betty in plainer phrase that her intervention had averted +Ann's arrest; or Ann herself that he believed her guilty. +</p> + +<p> +Every one in the hall understood him in that sense. +They stood foolishly looking here and looking there and +not knowing where to look; and in the midst of their +discomfort occurred an incongruous little incident which +added a touch of the bizarre. Up the two steps to the +open door came a girl carrying a big oblong cardboard +milliner's box. Her finger was on the bell, when Hanaud +stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no need to ring," he said. "What have you +there?" +</p> + +<p> +The girl stepped into the hall and looked at Ann. +</p> + +<p> +"It is Mademoiselle's dress for the Ball to-morrow +night. Mademoiselle was to call for a final fitting but +did not come. But Madame Grolin thinks that it will be +all right." She laid the box upon a chest at the side of +the hall and went out again. +</p> + +<p> +"I had forgotten all about it," said Ann. "It was +ordered just before Madame died and tried on once." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"For Madame Le Vay's masked ball, no doubt," he +said. "I noticed the invitation card on the chimney-piece +of Mademoiselle's sitting-room. And in what character +did Mademoiselle propose to go?" +</p> + +<p> +Ann startled them all. She flung up her head, whilst +the blood rushed into her cheeks and her eyes shone. +</p> + +<p> +"Not Madame de Brinvilliers, Monsieur, at all events," +she cried. +</p> + +<p> +Even Hanaud was brought up with a start. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not suggest it," he replied coldly. "But let me +see!" and in a moment whilst his face was flushed with +anger his hands were busily untying the tapes of the +box. +</p> + +<p> +Betty stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +"We talked over that little dress, together, Monsieur, +more than a month ago. It is meant to represent a +water-lily." +</p> + +<p> +"What could be more charming?" Hanaud asked, but +his fingers did not pause in their work. +</p> + +<p> +"Could suspicion betray itself more brutally?" Jim +Frobisher wondered. What could he expect to find in +that box? Did he imagine that this Madame Grolin, +the milliner, was an accomplice of Waberski's too? The +episode was ludicrous with a touch of the horrible. +Hanaud lifted off the lid and turned back the tissue-paper. +Underneath was seen a short <i>crêpe de Chine</i> frock of a +tender vivid green with a girdle of gold and a great gold +rosette at the side. The skirt was stiffened to stand out +at the hips, and it was bordered with a row of white satin +rosettes with golden hearts. To complete the dress there +were a pair of white silk stockings with fine gold clocks +and white satin shoes with single straps across the insteps +and little tassels of brilliants where the straps buttoned, +and four gold stripes at the back round the heels. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud felt under the frock and around the sides, +replaced the lid, and stood up again. He never looked at +Ann Upcott. He went straight across to Betty Harlowe. +</p> + +<p> +"I regret infinitely, Mademoiselle, that I have put you +to so much trouble and occupied so many hours of your +day," he said with a good deal of feeling. He made her +a courteous bow, took up his hat and stick from the table +on which he had laid it, and made straight for the hall +door. His business in the Maison Grenelle was to all +appearances finished. +</p> + +<p> +But Monsieur Bex was not content. He had been +nursing his suggestion for nearly half an hour. Like a +poem it demanded utterance. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud!" he called; "Monsieur Hanaud! +I have to tell you about a box of matches." +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" Hanaud answered, stopping alertly. "A box +of matches! I will walk with you towards your office, +and you shall tell me as you go." +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex secured his hat and his stick in a great +hurry. But he had time to throw a glance of pride +towards his English colleague. "Your suggestion about +the treasure room was of no value, my friend. Let us see +what I can do!" The pride and the airy wave of the +hand spoke the unspoken words. Monsieur Bex was at +Hanaud's side in a moment, and talked volubly as they +passed out of the gates into the street of Charles-Robert. +</p> + +<p> +Betty turned to Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow, now that I am once allowed to use my +motor-car, I shall take you for a drive and show you +something of our neighbourhood. This afternoon—you +will understand, I know—I belong to Ann." +</p> + +<p> +She took Ann Upcott by the arm and the two girls +went out into the garden. Jim was left alone in the hall—as +at that moment he wanted to be. It was very still here +now and very silent. The piping of birds, the drone of +bees outside the open doors were rather an accompaniment +than an interruption of the silence. Jim placed +himself where Hanaud had stood at that moment when +he had laughed so strangely—half-way between the foot +of the stairs where Monsieur Bex and he himself had +been standing and the open porch. But Jim could detect +nothing whatever to provoke any laughter, any excitement. +"That I should have lived all these years and never +noticed it before," he had exclaimed. Notice what? +There was nothing to notice. A table, a chair or two, a +barometer hanging upon the wall on one side and a mirror +hanging upon the wall on the other—No, there was nothing. +Of course, Jim reflected, there was a strain of the +mountebank in Hanaud. The whole of that little scene +might have been invented by him maliciously, just to +annoy and worry and cause discomfort to Monsieur Bex +and himself. Hanaud was very capable of a trick like +that! A strain of the mountebank indeed! He had a +great deal of the mountebank. More than half of him +was probably mountebank. Possibly quite two-thirds! +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, damn the fellow! What in the world did he +notice?" cried Jim. "What did he notice from the top +of the Tower? What did he notice in this hall? Why +must he be always noticing something?" and he jammed +his hat on in a rage and stalked out of the house. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: <i>At Jean Cladel's</i> +</h3> + +<p> +At nine o'clock that night Jim Frobisher walked past +the cashier's desk and into the hall of the Grande +Taverne. High above his head the cinematograph +machine whirred and clicked and a blade of silver light +cut the darkness. At the opposite end of the hall the +square screen was flooded with radiance and the pictures +melted upon it one into the other. +</p> + +<p> +For a little while Jim could see nothing but that screen. +Then the hall swam gradually within his vision. He saw +the heads of people like great bullets and a wider central +corridor where waitresses with white aprons moved. Jim +walked up the corridor and turned off to the left between +the tables. When he reached the wall he went forward +again towards the top of the hall. On his left the hall +fell back, and in the recess were two large cubicles in +which billiard tables were placed. Against the wall of the +first of these a young man was leaning with his eyes fixed +upon the screen. Jim fancied that he recognised Maurice +Thevenet, and nodded to him as he passed. A little +further on a big man with a soft felt hat was seated +alone, with a Bock in front of him—Hanaud. Jim +slipped into a seat at his side. +</p> + +<p> +"You?" Hanaud exclaimed in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not? You told me this is where you would be +at this hour," replied Jim, and some note of discouragement +in his voice attracted Hanaud's attention. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't think that those two young ladies would let +you go," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary," Jim replied with a short laugh. +"They didn't want me at all." +</p> + +<p> +He began to say something more, but thought better of +it, and called to a waitress. +</p> + +<p> +"Two Bocks, if you please," he ordered, and he offered +Hanaud a cigar. +</p> + +<p> +When the Bocks were brought, Hanaud said to him: +</p> + +<p> +"It will be well to pay at once, so that we can slip away +when we want." +</p> + +<p> +"We have something to do to-night?" Jim asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +He said no more until Jim had paid and the waitress +had turned the two little saucers on which she had brought +the Bocks upside down and had gone away. Then he +leaned towards Jim and lowered his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad that you came here. For I have a hope +that we shall get the truth to-night, and you ought to be +present when we do get it." +</p> + +<p> +Jim lit his own cigar. +</p> + +<p> +"From whom do you hope to get it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Jean Cladel," Hanaud answered in a whisper. "A +little later when all the town is quiet we will pay a visit +to the street of Gambetta." +</p> + +<p> +"You think he'll talk?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no charge against Cladel in this affair. To +make a solution of that poison paste is not an offence. +And he has so much against him that he will want to be +on our side if he can. Yes, he will talk I have no doubt." +</p> + +<p> +There would be an end of the affair then, to-night. +Jim Frobisher was glad with an unutterable gladness. +Betty would be free to order her life as she liked, and +where she liked, to give to her youth its due scope and +range, to forget the terror and horror of these last weeks, +as one forgets old things behind locked doors. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope, however," he said earnestly to Hanaud, "and +I believe, that you will be found wrong, that if there was +a murder Ann Upcott had nothing to do with it. Yes, I +believe that." He repeated his assertion as much to +convince himself as to persuade Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud touched his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't raise your voice too much, my friend," he said. +"I think there is some one against the wall who is +honouring us with his attention." +</p> + +<p> +Jim shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"It is only Maurice Thevenet," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oho?" answered Hanaud in a voice of relief. "Is +that all? For a moment I was anxious. It seemed that +there was a sentinel standing guard over us." He added +in a whisper, "I, too, hope from the bottom of my heart +that I may be proved wrong. But what of that arrow +head in the pen tray? Eh? Don't forget that!" Then +he fell into a muse. +</p> + +<p> +"What happened on that night in the Maison +Crenelle?" he said. "Why was that communicating door +thrown open? Who was to be stripped to the skin by +that violent woman? Who whispered 'That will do +now'? Is Ann Upcott speaking the truth, and was there +some terrible scene taking place before she entered so +unexpectedly the treasure room—some terrible scene which +ended in that dreadful whisper? Or is Ann Upcott lying +from beginning to end? Ah, my friend, you wrote some +questions down upon your memorandum this afternoon. +But these are the questions I want answered, and where +shall I find the answers?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim had never seen Hanaud so moved. His hands +were clenched, and the veins prominent upon his forehead, +and though he whispered his voice shook. +</p> + +<p> +"Jean Cladel may help," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, he may tell us something." +</p> + +<p> +They sat through an episode of the film, and saw the +lights go up and out again, and then Hanaud looked +eagerly at his watch and put it back again into his pocket +with a gesture of annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"It is still too early?" Jim asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Cladel has no servant and takes his meals +abroad. He has not yet returned home." +</p> + +<p> +A little before ten o'clock a man strolled in, and seating +himself at a table behind Hanaud twice scraped a match +upon a match-box without getting a light. Hanaud, +without moving, said quietly to Frobisher: +</p> + +<p> +"He is at home now. In a minute I shall go. Give +me five minutes and follow." +</p> + +<p> +Jim nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Where shall we meet?" +</p> + +<p> +"Walk straight along the Rue de la Liberté, and I will +see to that," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled his packet of cigarettes from his pocket, put +one between his lips, and took his time in lighting it. +Then he got up, but to his annoyance Maurice Thevenet +recognised him and came forward. +</p> + +<p> +"When Monsieur Frobisher wished me good-evening +and joined you I thought it was you, Monsieur Hanaud. +But I had not the presumption to recall myself to your +notice." +</p> + +<p> +"Presumption! Monsieur, we are of the same service, +only you have the advantage of youth," said Hanaud +politely, as he turned. +</p> + +<p> +"But you are going, Monsieur Hanaud?" Thevenet +asked in distress. "I am desolated. I have broken into +a conversation like a clumsy fellow." +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all," Hanaud replied. To Frobisher his +patience was as remarkable as Maurice Thevenet's +impudence. "We were idly watching a film which I think +is a little tedious." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, since you are not busy I beg for your +indulgence. One little moment that is all. I should so +dearly love to be able to say to my friends, 'I sat in the +cinema with Monsieur Hanaud—yes, actually I'—and +asked for his advice." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud sat down again upon his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"And upon what subject can you, of whom Monsieur +Girardot speaks so highly, want my advice?" Hanaud +asked with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +The eternal ambition of the provincial was tormenting +the eager youth. To get to Paris—all was in that! +Fortune, reputation, a life of colour. A word from +Monsieur Hanaud and a way would open. He would +work night and day to justify that word. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, all I can promise is that when the time +comes I shall remember you. But that promise I make +now with my whole heart," said Hanaud warmly, and +with a bow he moved away. +</p> + +<p> +Maurice Thevenet watched him go. +</p> + +<p> +"What a man!" Maurice Thevenet went on enthusiastically. +"I would not like to try to keep any secrets +from him. No, indeed!" Jim had heard that sentiment +before on other lips and with a greater sympathy. "I did +not understand at all what he had in his mind when he +staged that little scene with Francine Rollard. But +something, Monsieur. Oh, you may be sure. Something wise. +And that search through the treasure room! How quick +and complete! No doubt while we searched Mademoiselle +Upcott's bedroom, he was just as quick and complete in +going through her sitting-room. But he found nothing. +No, nothing." +</p> + +<p> +He waited for Jim to corroborate him, but Jim only +said "Oho!" +</p> + +<p> +But Thevenet was not to be extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall tell you what struck me, Monsieur. He was +following out no suspicions; isn't that so? He was +detached. He was gathering up every trifle, on the chance +that each one might sometime fit in with another and at +last a whole picture be composed. An artist! There was +a letter, for instance, which Mademoiselle Harlowe +handed to him, one of those deplorable letters which have +disgraced us here—you remember that letter, Monsieur?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aha!" said Frobisher, quite in the style of Hanaud. +"But I see that this film is coming to its wedding bells. +So I shall wish you a good evening." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher bowed and left Maurice Thevenet to dream +of success in Paris. He strolled between the groups of +spectators to the entrance and thence into the street. He +walked to the arch of the Porte Guillaume and turned +into the Rue de la Liberté. The provincial towns go to +bed early and the street so busy throughout the day was +like the street of a deserted city. A couple of hundred +yards on, he was startled to find Hanaud, sprung from +nowhere, walking at his side. +</p> + +<p> +"So my young friend, the secretary engaged you when +I had gone?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Maurice Thevenet," said Jim, "may be as the Commissary +says a young man of a surprising intelligence, +but to tell you the truth, I find him a very intrusive fellow. +First of all he wanted to know if you had discovered +anything in Ann Upcott's sitting-room, and then what Miss +Harlowe's anonymous letter was about." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked at Jim with interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he is anxious to learn, that young man, Girardot +is right. He will go far. And how did you answer him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I said 'Oho'! first, and then I said 'Aha'! just like a +troublesome friend of mine when I ask him a simple +question which he does not mean to answer." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed heartily. +</p> + +<p> +"And you did very well," he said. "Come, let us turn +into this little street upon the right. It will take us to +our destination." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait!" whispered Jim eagerly. "Don't cross the road +for a moment. Listen!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud obeyed at once; and both men stood and +listened in the empty street. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a sound," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"No! That is what troubles me!" Jim whispered +importantly. "A minute ago there were footsteps behind +us. Now that we have stopped they have stopped too. +Let us go on quite straight for a moment or two." +</p> + +<p> +"But certainly my friend," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"And let us not talk either," Jim urged. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a single word," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +They moved forward again and behind them once more +footsteps rang upon the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +"What did I tell you?" asked Jim, taking Hanaud by +the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"That we would neither of us speak," Hanaud replied. +"And lo! you have spoken!" +</p> + +<p> +"But why? Why have I spoken? Be serious, Monsieur," +Jim shook his arm indignantly. "We are being +followed." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud stopped dead and gazed in steady admiration +at his junior colleague. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" he whispered. "You have discovered that? +Yes, it is true. We are being followed by one of my +men who sees to it that we are not followed." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher shook Hanaud's arm off indignantly. He +drew himself up stiffly. Then he saw Hanaud's mouth +twitching and he understood that he was looking +"proper." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, let us go and find Jean Cladel," he said with +a laugh and he crossed the road. They passed into a +network of small, mean streets. There was not a soul +abroad. The houses were shrouded in darkness. The +only sounds they heard were the clatter of their own +footsteps on the pavement and the fainter noise of the +man who followed them. Hanaud turned to the left into +a short passage and stopped before a little house with a +shuttered shop front. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the place," he said in a low voice and he +pressed the button in the pillar of the door. The bell rang +with a shrill sharp whirr just the other side of the panels. +</p> + +<p> +"We may have to wait a moment if he has gone to +bed," said Hanaud, "since he has no servant in the +house." +</p> + +<p> +A minute or two passed. The clocks struck the half +hour. Hanaud leaned his ear against the panels of the +door. He could not hear one sound within the house. +He rang again; and after a few seconds shutters were +thrown back and a window opened on the floor above. +From behind the window some one whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Who is there?" +</p> + +<p> +"The police," Hanaud answered, and at the window +above there was silence. +</p> + +<p> +"No one is going to do you any harm," Hanaud +continued, raising his voice impatiently. "We want some +information from you. That's all." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well." The whisper came from the same spot. +The man standing within the darkness of the room had +not moved. "Wait! I will slip on some things and come +down." +</p> + +<p> +The window and the shutter were closed again. Then +through the chinks a few beams of light strayed out +Hanaud uttered a little grunt of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"That animal is getting up at last. He must have some +strange clients amongst the good people of Dijon if he is +so careful to answer them in a whisper." +</p> + +<p> +He turned about and took a step or two along the +pavement and another step or two back like a man upon +a quarter deck. Jim Frobisher had never known him so +restless and impatient during these two days. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help it," he said in a low voice to Jim. "I +think that in five minutes we shall touch the truth of this +affair. We shall know who brought the arrow to him +from the Maison Crenelle." +</p> + +<p> +"If any one brought the arrow to him at all," Jim +Frobisher added. +</p> + +<p> +But Hanaud was not in the mood to consider ifs and +possibilities. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, that!" he said with a shrug of the shoulders. +Then he tapped his forehead. "I am like Waberski. I +have it here that some one did bring the arrow to Jean +Cladel." +</p> + +<p> +He started once more his quarter-deck pacing. Only +it was now a trot rather than a walk. Jim was a little +nettled by the indifference to his suggestion. He was +still convinced that Hanaud had taken the wrong starting +point in all his inquiry. He said tartly: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if some one did bring the arrow here, it will +be the same person who replaced the treatise on +Sporanthus on its book shelf." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud came to a stop in front of Jim Frobisher. +Then he burst into a low laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"I will bet you all the money in the world that that +is not true, and then Madame Harlowe's pearl necklace +on the top of it. For after all it was not I who brought +the arrow to Jean Cladel, whereas it was undoubtedly I +who put back the treatise on the shelf." +</p> + +<p> +Jim took a step back. He stared at Hanaud with his +mouth open in a stupefaction. +</p> + +<p> +"You?" he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"I," replied Hanaud, standing up on the tips of his +toes. "Alone I did it." +</p> + +<p> +Then his manner of burlesque dropped from him. He +looked up at the shuttered windows with a sudden anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +"That animal is taking longer than he need," he muttered. +"After all, it is not to a court ball of the Duke of +Burgundy that we are inviting him." +</p> + +<p> +He rang the bell again with a greater urgency. It +returned its shrill reply as though it mocked him. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not like this," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +He seized the door-handle and leaned his shoulder +against the panel and drove his weight against it. But +the door was strong and did not give. Hanaud put his +fingers to his mouth and whistled softly. From the +direction whence they had come they heard the sound +of a man running swiftly. They saw him pass within +the light of the one street lamp at the corner and out of it +again; and then he stood at their side. Jim recognised +Nicolas Moreau, the little agent who had been sent this +very morning by Hanaud to make sure that Jean Cladel +existed. +</p> + +<p> +"Nicolas, I want you to wait here," said Hanaud. "If +the door is opened, whistle for us and keep it open." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, sir." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud said in a low and troubled voice to Frobisher: +"There is something here which alarms me." He dived +into a narrow alley at the side of the shop. +</p> + +<p> +"It was in this alley no doubt that Waberski meant us +to believe that he hid on the morning of the 7th of May," +Jim whispered as he hurried to keep with his companion. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt." +</p> + +<p> +The alley led into a lane which ran parallel with the +street of Gambetta. Hanaud wheeled into it. A wall five +feet high, broken at intervals by rickety wooden doors, +enclosed the yards at the backs of the houses. Before +the first of these breaks in the wall Hanaud stopped. He +raised himself upon the tips of his toes and peered over +the wall, first downwards into the yard, and then upwards +towards the back of the house. There was no lamp in the +lane, no light showing from any of the windows. Though +the night was clear of mist it was as dark as a cavern in +this narrow lane behind the houses. Jim Frobisher, +though his eyes were accustomed to the gloom, knew that +he could not have seen a man, even if he had moved, ten +yards away. Yet Hanaud still stood peering at the back +of the house with the tips of his fingers on the top of the +wall. Finally he touched Jim on the sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe the back window on the first floor is open," +he whispered, and his voice was more troubled than ever. +"We will go in and see." +</p> + +<p> +He touched the wooden door and it swung inwards +with a whine of its hinges. +</p> + +<p> +"Open," said Hanaud. "Make no noise." +</p> + +<p> +Silently they crossed the yard. The ground floor of +the house was low. Jim looking upwards could see now +that the window above their heads yawned wide open. +</p> + +<p> +"You are right," he breathed in Hanaud's ear, and with +a touch Hanaud asked for silence. +</p> + +<p> +The room beyond the window was black as pitch. The +two men stood below and listened. Not a word came +from it. Hanaud drew Jim into the wall of the house. +At the end of the wall a door gave admission into the +house. Hanaud tried the door, turning the handle first +and then gently pressing with his shoulder upon the panel. +</p> + +<p> +"It's locked, but not bolted like the door in front," he +whispered. "I can manage this." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher heard the tiniest possible rattle of a +bunch of keys as Hanaud drew it from his pocket, and +then not a noise of any kind whilst Hanaud stooped above +the lock. Yet within half a minute the door slowly +opened. It opened upon a passage as black as that room +above their heads. Hanaud stepped noiselessly into the +passage. Jim Frobisher followed him with a heart +beating high in excitement. What had happened in that +lighted room upstairs and in the dark room behind it? +Why didn't Jean Cladel come down and open the door +upon the street of Gambetta? Why didn't they hear +Nicolas Moreau's soft whistle or the sound of his voice? +Hanaud stepped back past Jim Frobisher and shut the +door behind them and locked it again. +</p> + +<p> +"You haven't an electric torch with you, of course?" +Hanaud whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"No," replied Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I. And I don't want to strike a match. There's +something upstairs which frightens me." +</p> + +<p> +You could hardly hear the words. They were spoken +as though the mere vibration of the air they caused would +carry a message to the rooms above. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll move very carefully. Keep a hand upon my +coat," and Hanaud went forward. After he had gone a +few paces he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"There's a staircase here on my right. It turns at +once. Mind not to knock your foot on the first step," he +whispered over his shoulder; and a moment later, he +reached down and, taking hold of Jim's right arm, laid +his hand upon a balustrade. Jim lifted his foot, felt for +and found the first tread of the stairs, and mounted +behind Hanaud. They halted on a little landing just above +the door by which they had entered the house. +</p> + +<p> +In front of them the darkness began to thin, to become +opaque rather than a black, impenetrable hood drawn over +their heads. Jim understood that in front of him was an +open door and that the faint glimmer came from that +open window on their left hand beyond the door. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud passed through the doorway into the room. +Jim followed and was already upon the threshold, when +Hanaud stumbled and uttered a cry. No doubt the cry +was low, but coming so abruptly upon their long silence +it startled Frobisher like the explosion of a pistol. It +seemed that it must clash through Dijon like the striking +of a clock. +</p> + +<p> +But nothing followed. No one stirred, no one cried +out a question. Silence descended upon the house again, +impenetrable, like the darkness a hood upon the senses. +Jim was tempted to call out aloud himself, anything, +however childish, so that he might hear a voice speaking +words, if only his own voice. The words came at last, +from Hanaud and from the inner end of the room, but +in an accent which Jim did not recognise. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't move! ... There is something.... I told +you I was frightened.... Oh!" and his voice died away +in a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +Jim could hear him moving very cautiously. Then he +almost screamed aloud. For the shutters at the window +slowly swung to and the room was once more shrouded +in black. +</p> + +<p> +"Who's that?" Jim whispered violently, and Hanaud +answered: +</p> + +<p> +"It's only me—Hanaud. I don't want to show a light +here yet with that window open. God knows what dreadful +thing has happened here. Come just inside the room +and shut the door behind you." +</p> + +<p> +Jim obeyed, and having moved his position, could see +a line of yellow light, straight and fine as if drawn by a +pencil, at the other end of the room on the floor. There +was a door there, a door into the front room where they +had seen the light go up from the street of Gambetta. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher had hardly realised that before the door +was burst open with a crash. In the doorway, outlined +against the light beyond, appeared the bulky frame of +Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"There is nothing here," he said, standing there blocking +up the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "The +room is quite empty." +</p> + +<p> +That room, the front room—yes! But between +Hanaud's legs the light trickled out into the dark room +behind, and here, on the floor illuminated by a little lane +of light, Jim, with a shiver, saw a clenched hand and a +forearm in a crumpled shirt-sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"Turn round," he cried to Hanaud. "Look!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud turned. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said quietly. "That is what I stumbled +against." +</p> + +<p> +He found a switch in the wall close to the door and +snapped it down. The dark room was flooded with light, +and on the floor, in the midst of a scene of disorder, a +table pushed back here, a chair overturned there, lay the +body of a man. He wore no coat. He was in his waistcoat +and his shirt sleeves, and he was crumpled up with +a horrible suggestion of agony like a ball, his knees +towards his chin, his head forward towards his knees. +One arm clutched the body close, the other, the one which +Jim had seen, was flung out, his hand clenched in a spasm +of intolerable pain. And about the body there was such a +pool of blood as Jim Frobisher thought no body could +contain. +</p> + +<p> +Jim staggered back with his hands clasped over his +eyes. He felt physically sick. +</p> + +<p> +"Then he killed himself on our approach," he cried +with a groan. +</p> + +<p> +"Who?" answered Hanaud steadily. +</p> + +<p> +"Jean Cladel. The man who whispered to us from +behind the window." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud stunned him with a question. +</p> + +<p> +"What with?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim drew his hands slowly from before his face and +forced his eyes to their service. There was no gleam of a +knife, or a pistol, anywhere against the dark background +of the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +"You might think that he was a Japanese who had +committed <i>hari-kari</i>," said Hanaud. "But if he had, the +knife would be at his side. And there is no knife." +</p> + +<p> +He stooped over the body and felt it, and drew his +hand back. +</p> + +<p> +"It is still warm," he said, and then a gasp, "Look!" He +pointed. The man was lying on his side in this +dreadful pose of contracted sinews and unendurable pain. +And across the sleeve of his shirt there was a broad red +mark. +</p> + +<p> +"That's where the knife was wiped clean," said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Jim bent forward. +</p> + +<p> +"By God, that's true," he cried, and a little afterwards, +in a voice of awe: "Then it's murder." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a doubt." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher stood up. He pointed a shaking finger +at the grotesque image of pain crumpled upon the floor, +death without dignity, an argument that there was +something horribly wrong with the making of the human +race—since such things could be. +</p> + +<p> +"Jean Cladel?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"We must make sure," answered Hanaud. He went +down the stairs to the front door and, unbolting it, called +Moreau within the house. From the top of the stairs +Jim heard him ask: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know Jean Cladel by sight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered Moreau. +</p> + +<p> +"Then follow me." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud led him up into the back room. For a moment +Moreau stopped upon the threshold with a blank look +upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that the man?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +Moreau stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"He has been murdered," Hanaud explained. "Will +you fetch the Commissary of the district and a doctor? +We will wait here." +</p> + +<p> +Moreau turned on his heel and went downstairs. +Hanaud dropped into a chair and stared moodily at the +dead body. +</p> + +<p> +"Jean Cladel," he said in a voice of discouragement. +"Just when he could have been of a little use in the +world! Just when he could have helped us to the truth! +It's my fault, too. I oughtn't to have waited until +to-night. I ought to have foreseen that this might happen." +</p> + +<p> +"Who can have murdered him?" Jim Frobisher exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud roused himself out of his remorse. +</p> + +<p> +"The man who whispered to us from behind the +window," answered Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher felt his mind reeling. +</p> + +<p> +"That's impossible!" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" Hanaud asked. "It must have been he. +Think it out!" And step by step he told the story as +he read it, testing it by speaking it aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"At five minutes past ten a man of mine, still a little +out of breath from his haste, comes to us in the Grande +Taverne and tells us that Jean Cladel has just reached +home. He reached home then at five minutes to ten." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Jim agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"We were detained for a few minutes by Maurice +Thevenet. Yes." He moistened his lips with the tip +of his tongue and said softly: "We shall have to consider +that very modest and promising young gentleman rather +carefully. He detained us. We heard the clock strike +half-past ten as we waited in the street." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And all was over then. For the house was as silent +as what, indeed, it is—a grave. And only just over, for +the body is still warm. If this—lying here, is Jean Cladel, +some one else must have been waiting for him to come +home to-night, waiting in the lane behind, since my man +didn't see him. And an acquaintance, a friend—for Jean +Cladel lets him in and locks the door behind him." +</p> + +<p> +Jim interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +"He might have been here already, waiting for him +with his knife bared in this dark room." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked around the room. It was furnished +cheaply and stuffily, half office, half living-room. An +open bureau stood against the wall near the window. A +closed cabinet occupied the greater part of one side. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder," he said. "It is possible, no doubt—— But +if so, why did the murderer stay so long? No search +has been made—no drawers are ransacked." He tried +the door of the cabinet. "This is still locked. No, I +don't think that he was waiting. I think that he was +admitted as a friend or a client—I fancy Jean Cladel had +not a few clients who preferred to call upon him by the +back way in the dark of the night. I think that his visitor +came meaning to kill, and waited his time and killed, and +that he had hardly killed before we rang the bell at the +door." Hanaud drew in his breath sharply. "Imagine +that, my friend! He is standing here over the man he +has murdered, and unexpectedly the shrill, clear sound of +the bell goes through the house—as though God said, 'I +saw you!' Imagine it! He turned out the light and +stands holding his breath in the dark. The bell rings +again. He must answer it or worse may befall. He goes +into the front room and throws open the window, and +hears it is the police who are at the door." Hanaud +nodded his head in a reluctant admiration. "But that man +had an iron nerve! He doesn't lose his head. He closes +the shutter, he turns on the light, that we may think he is +getting up, he runs back into this room. He will not +waste time by stumbling down the stairs and fumbling +with the lock of the back door. No, he opens these +shutters and drops to the ground. It is done in a second. +Another second, and he is in the lane; another, and he +is safe, his dreadful mission ended. Cladel will not speak. +Cladel will not tell us the things we want to know." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud went over to the cabinet and, using his skeleton +keys, again opened its doors. On the shelves were ranged +a glass jar or two, a retort, the simplest utensils of a +laboratory and a few bottles, one of which, larger than +the rest, was half filled with a colourless liquid. +</p> + +<p> +"Alcohol," said Hanaud, pointing to the label. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher moved carefully round on the outskirts +of the room, taking care not to alter the disarrangements +of the furniture. He looked the bottles over. Not one +of them held a drop of that pale lemon-coloured solution +which the Professor, in his Treatise, had described. +Hanaud shut and locked the doors of the cabinet again +and stepped carefully over to the bureau. It stood open, +and a few papers were strewn upon the flap. He sat +down at the bureau and began carefully to search it. Jim +sat down in a chair. Somehow it had leaked out that, +since this morning, Hanaud knew of Jean Cladel. Jean +Cladel therefore must be stopped from any revelations; +and he had been stopped. Frobisher could no longer +doubt that murder had been done on the night of April +the 27th, in the Maison Crenelle. Development followed +too logically upon development. The case was building +itself up—another storey had been added to the edifice +with this new crime. Yes, certainly and solidly it was +building itself up—this case against some one. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: <i>The White Tablet</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Within the minute that case was to be immeasurably +strengthened. An exclamation broke from +Hanaud. He sprang to his feet and turned on the light +of a green-shaded reading lamp, which stood upon the +ledge of the bureau. He was holding now under the +light a small drawer, which he had removed from the +front of the bureau. Very gingerly he lifted some little +thing out of it, something that looked like a badge that +men wear in their buttonholes. He laid it down upon the +blotting paper; and in that room of death laughed +harshly. +</p> + +<p> +He beckoned to Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Come and look!" +</p> + +<p> +What Jim saw was a thin, small, barbed iron dart, +with an iron stem. He had no need to ask its nature, for +he had seen its likeness that morning in the Treatise of +the Edinburgh Professor. This was the actual head of +Simon Harlowe's poison-arrow. +</p> + +<p> +"You have found it!" said Jim in a voice that shook. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud gave it a little push, and said thoughtfully: +</p> + +<p> +"A negro thousands of miles away sits outside his hut +in the Kombe country and pounds up his poison seed and +mixes it with red clay, and smears it thick and slab over +the shaft of his fine new arrow, and waits for his enemy. +But his enemy does not come. So he barters it, or gives +it to his white friend the trader on the Shire river. And +the trader brings it home and gives it to Simon Harlowe +of the Maison Crenelle. And Simon Harlowe lends it to +a professor in Edinburgh, who writes about it in a printed +book and sends it back again. And in the end, after all +its travels, it comes to the tenement of Jean Cladel in a +slum of Dijon, and is made ready in a new way to do its +deadly work." +</p> + +<p> +For how much longer Hanaud would have moralised +over the arrow in this deplorable way, no man can tell. +Happily Jim Frobisher was reprieved from listening to +him by the shutting of a door below and the noise of +voices in the passage. +</p> + +<p> +"The Commissary!" said Hanaud, and he went quickly +down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Jim heard him speaking in a low tone for quite a long +while, and no doubt was explaining the position of affairs. +For when he brought the Commissary and the doctor up +into the room he introduced Jim as one about whom they +already knew. +</p> + +<p> +"This is that Monsieur Frobisher," he said. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary, a younger and more vivacious man +than Girardot, bowed briskly to Jim and looked towards +the contorted figure of Jean Cladel. +</p> + +<p> +Even he could not restrain a little gesture of repulsion. +He clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"He is not pretty, that one!" he said. "Most certainly +he is not pretty." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud crossed again to the bureau and carefully +folded the dart around with paper. +</p> + +<p> +"With your permission, Monsieur," he said ceremoniously +to the Commissary, "I shall take this with me. +I will be responsible for it." He put it away in his pocket +and looked at the doctor, who was stooping by the side +of Jean Cladel. "I do not wish to interfere, but I should +be glad to have a copy of the medical report. I think +that it might help me. I think it will be found that this +murder was committed in a way peculiar to one man." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly you shall have a copy of the report, +Monsieur Hanaud," replied the young Commissary in a polite +and formal voice. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laid a hand on Jim's arm. +</p> + +<p> +"We are in the way, my friend. Oh, yes, in spite of +Monsieur le Commissaire's friendly protestations. This +is not our affair. Let us go!" He conducted Jim to the +door and turned about. "I do not wish to interfere," he +repeated, "but it is possible that the shutters and the +window will bear the traces of the murderer's fingers. I +don't think it probable, for that animal had taken his +precautions. But it is possible, for he left in a great hurry." +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary was overwhelmed with gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +"Most certainly we will give our attention to the +shutters and the window-sill." +</p> + +<p> +"A copy of the finger-prints, if any are found?" +Hanaud suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall be at Monsieur Hanaud's disposal as early as +possible," the Commissary agreed. +</p> + +<p> +Jim experienced a pang of regret that Monsieur Bex +was not present at the little exchange of civilities. The +Commissary and Hanaud were so careful not to tread +upon one another's toes and so politely determined that +their own should not be trodden upon. Monsieur Bex +could not but have revelled in the correctness of their +deportment. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud and Frobisher went downstairs into the street +The neighbourhood had not been aroused. A couple of +<i>sergents-de-ville</i> stood in front of the door. The street of +Gambetta was still asleep and indifferent to the crime +which had taken place in one of its least respectable +houses. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall go to the Prefecture," said Hanaud. "They +have given me a little office there with a sofa. I want +to put away the arrow head before I go to my hotel." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall come with you," said Jim. "It will be a relief +to walk for a little in the fresh air, after that room." +</p> + +<p> +The Prefecture lay the better part of a mile away +across the city. Hanaud set off at a great pace, and reaching +the building conducted Jim into an office with a safe +set against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you sit down for a moment? And smoke, +please," he said. +</p> + +<p> +He was in a mood of such deep dejection; he was so +changed from his mercurial self; that only now did Jim +Frobisher understand the great store he had set upon his +interview with Jean Cladel. He unlocked the safe and +brought over to the table a few envelopes of different +sizes, the copy of the Treatise and his green file. He +seated himself in front of Jim and began to open his +envelopes and range their contents in a row, when the +door was opened and a gendarme saluted and advanced. +He carried a paper in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"A reply came over the telephone from Paris at nine +o'clock to-night, Monsieur Hanaud. They say that this +may be the name of the firm you want. It was established +in the Rue de Batignolles, but it ceased to exist +seven years ago." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that would have happened," Hanaud answered +glumly, as he took the paper. He read what was written +upon it. "Yes—yes. That's it. Not a doubt." +</p> + +<p> +He took an envelope from a rack upon the table and +put the paper inside it and stuck down the flap. On the +front of the envelope, Jim saw him write an illuminating +word. "Address." +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked at Jim with smouldering eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"There is a fatality in all this," he cried. "We become +more and more certain that murder was committed and +how it was committed. We get a glimpse of possible +reasons why. But we are never an inch nearer to evidence—real +convincing evidence—who committed it. Fatality? +I am a fool to use such words. It's keen wits and +audacity and nerve that stop us at the end of each lane and +make an idiot of me!" +</p> + +<p> +He struck a match viciously and lit a cigarette. Frobisher +made an effort to console him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but it's the keen wits and the audacity and the +nerve of more than one person." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud glanced at Frobisher sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Explain, my friend." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been thinking over it ever since we left the +street of Gambetta. I no longer doubt that +Mrs. Harlowe was murdered in the Maison Crenelle. It is +impossible to doubt it. But her murder was part of the +activities of a gang. Else how comes it that Jean Cladel was +murdered too to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +A smile drove for a moment the gloom from Hanaud's +face. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. You have been quite fifteen minutes in the +bull-ring," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you agree with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes!" But Hanaud's gloom had returned. "But we +can't lay our hands upon the gang. We are losing time, +and I am afraid that we have no time to lose." Hanaud +shivered like a man suddenly chilled. "Yes, I am very +troubled now. I am very—frightened." +</p> + +<p> +His fear peered out of him and entered into Frobisher. +Frobisher did not understand it, he had no clue to what +it was that Hanaud feared, but sitting in that brightly-lit +office in the silent building, he was conscious of evil +presences thronging about the pair of them, presences +grotesque and malevolent such as some old craftsman of +Dijon might have carved on the pillars of a cathedral. +He, too, shivered. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us see, now!" said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +He took the end of the arrow shaft from one envelope, +and the barb from his pocket, and fitted them together. +The iron barb was loose now because the hole to receive +it at the top of the arrow shaft had been widened to take +a nib. But the spoke was just about the right length. He +laid the arrow down upon the table, and opened his green +file. A small square envelope, such as chemists use, +attracted Jim's notice. He took it up. It seemed empty, +but as he shook it out, a square tablet of some hard white +substance rolled on to the table. It was soiled with dust, +and there was a smear of green upon it; and as Jim +turned it over, he noticed a cut or crack in its surface, as +though something sharp had struck it. +</p> + +<p> +"What in the world has this to do with the affair?" +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked up from his file. He reached out his +hand swiftly to take the tablet away from Jim, and drew +his hand in again. +</p> + +<p> +"A good deal perhaps. Perhaps nothing," he said +gravely. "But it is interesting—that tablet. I shall know +more about it to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +Jim could not for the life of him remember any occasion +which had brought this tablet into notice. It certainly +had not been discovered in Jean Cladel's house, for +it was already there in the safe in the office. Jim had +noticed the little square envelope as Hanaud fetched it +out of the safe. The tablet looked as if it had been picked +up from the road like Monsieur Bex's famous match-box. +Or—yes, there was that smear of green—from the grass. +Jim sat up straight in his chair. They had all been +together in the garden this morning. Hanaud, himself, +Betty and Ann Upcott. But at that point Frobisher's +conjectures halted. Neither his memory nor deduction +could connect that tablet with the half-hour the four of +them had passed in the shade of the sycamores. The only +thing of which he was quite sure was the great importance +which Hanaud attached to it. For all the time that he +handled and examined it Hanaud's eyes never left him, +never once. They followed each little movement of finger +tip and thumb with an extraordinary alertness, and when +Jim at last tilted it off his palm back into its little +envelope, the detective undoubtedly drew a breath of relief. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher laughed good-humouredly. He was +getting to know his man. He did not invite any "Aha's" +and "Oho's" by vain questionings. He leaned across the +table and took up his own memorandum which Hanaud +had just laid aside out of his file. He laid it on the table +in front of him and added two new questions to those +which he had already written out. Thus: +</p> + +<p class="quote"> +(5) What was the exact message telephoned from +Paris to the Prefecture and hidden away in an +envelope marked by Hanaud: "Address"? +</p> + +<p class="quote"> +(6) When and where and why was the white tablet +picked up, and what, in the name of all the saints, does +it mean? +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +With another laugh Frobisher tossed the memorandum +back to Hanaud. Hanaud, however, read them slowly +and thoughtfully. "I had hoped to answer all your questions +to-night," he said dispiritedly. "But you see! We +break down at every corner, and the question must wait." +</p> + +<p> +He was fitting methodically the memorandum back +into the file when a look of extreme surprise came over +Frobisher's face. He pointed a finger at the file. +</p> + +<p> +"That telegram!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a telegram pinned to the three anonymous +letters which Hanaud had in the file—the two which +Hanaud had shown to Frobisher in Paris and the third +which Betty Harlowe had given to him that very +afternoon. And the telegram was pieced together by two +strips of stamp-paper in a cross. +</p> + +<p> +"That's our telegram. The telegram sent to my firm +by Miss Harlowe on Monday—yes, by George, this last +Monday." +</p> + +<p> +It quite took Jim's breath away, so crowded had his +days been with fears and reliefs, excitements and doubts, +discoveries and disappointments, to realise that this was +only the Friday night; that at so recent a date as +Wednesday he had never seen or spoken with Betty +Harlowe. "The telegram announcing to us in London +that you were engaged upon the case." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded in assent. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. You gave it to me." +</p> + +<p> +"And you tore it up." +</p> + +<p> +"I did. But I picked it out of the waste-paper basket +afterwards and stuck it together." Hanaud explained, in +no wise disconcerted by Jim Frobisher's attack of +perspicacity. "I meant to make some trouble here with +the Police for letting out the secret. I am very glad now +that I did pick it out. You yourself must have realised +its importance the very next morning before I even +arrived at the Maison Crenelle, when you told +Mademoiselle that you had shown it to me." +</p> + +<p> +Jim cast his memory back. He had a passion for +precision and exactness which was very proper in one of +his profession. +</p> + +<p> +"It was not until you came that I learnt Miss Harlowe +had the news by an anonymous letter," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that doesn't matter," Hanaud interposed a +trifle quickly. "The point of importance to me is that +when the case is done with, and I have a little time to +devote to these letters, the telegram may be of value." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see," said Jim. "I see that," he repeated, and +he shifted uncomfortably in his chair; and opened his +mouth and closed it again; and remained suspended +between speech and silence, whilst Hanaud read through his +file and contemplated his exhibits and found no hope in +them. +</p> + +<p> +"They lead me nowhere!" he cried violently; and Jim +Frobisher made up his mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud, you do not share your thoughts +with me," he said rather formally, "but I will deal +with you in a better way; apart from this crime in the +Maison Crenelle, you have the mystery of these anonymous +letters to solve. I can help you to this extent. +Another of them has been received." +</p> + +<p> +"When?" +</p> + +<p> +"To-night, whilst we sat at dinner." +</p> + +<p> +"By whom?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ann Upcott." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud was out of his chair with a cry, towering up, +his face white as the walls of the room, his eyes burning +upon Frobisher. Never could news have been so +unexpected, so startling. +</p> + +<p> +"You are sure?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite. It came by the evening post—with others. +Gaston brought them into the dining-room. There was +one for me from my firm in London, a couple for Betty, +and this one for Ann Upcott. She opened it with a +frown, as though she did not know from whom it came. +I saw it as she unfolded it. It was on the same common +paper—typewritten in the same way—with no address +at the head of it. She gasped as she looked at it, and +then she read it again. And then with a smile she folded +it and put it away." +</p> + +<p> +"With a smile?" Hanaud insisted. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. She was pleased. The colour came into her +face. The distress went out of it." +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't show it to you, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor to Mademoiselle Harlowe?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"But she was pleased, eh?" It seemed that to Hanaud +this was the most extraordinary feature of the whole +business. "Did she say anything?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered Jim. "She said 'He has been always +right, hasn't he?'" +</p> + +<p> +"She said that! 'He has been always right, hasn't +he?'" Hanaud slowly resumed his seat, and sat like a +man turned into stone. He looked up in a little while. +</p> + +<p> +"What happened then?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing until dinner was over. Then she picked up +her letter and beckoned with her head to Miss Betty, who +said to me: 'We shall have to leave you to take your +coffee alone.' They went across the hall to Betty's room. +The treasure-room. I was a little nettled. Ever since I +have been in Dijon one person after another has pushed +me into a corner with orders to keep quiet and not +interfere. So I came to find you at the Grande Taverne." +</p> + +<p> +At another moment Jim's eruption of injured vanity +would have provoked Hanaud to one of his lamentable +exhibitions, but now he did not notice it at all. +</p> + +<p> +"They went away to talk that letter over together," +said Hanaud. "And that young lady was pleased, she +who was so distressed this afternoon. A way out, then!" Hanaud +was discussing his problem with himself, his eyes +upon the table. "For once the Scourge is kind? I +wonder! It baffles me!" He rose to his feet and walked once +or twice across the room. "Yes, I the old bull of a +hundred corridas, I, Hanaud, am baffled!" +</p> + +<p> +He was not posturing now. He was frankly and +simply amazed that he could be so utterly at a loss. Then, +with a swift change of mood, he came back to the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Meanwhile, Monsieur, until I can explain this strange +new incident to myself, I beg of you your help," he +pleaded very earnestly and even very humbly. Fear had +returned to his eyes and his voice. He was disturbed +beyond Jim's comprehension. "There is nothing more +important. I want you—how shall I put it so that I may +persuade you? I want you to stay as much as you can in +the Maison Crenelle—to—yes—to keep a little watch on +this pretty Ann Upcott, to——" +</p> + +<p> +He got no further with his proposal. Jim Frobisher +interrupted him in a very passion of anger. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, I won't," he cried. "You go much too far, +Monsieur. I won't be your spy. I am not here for that. +I am here for my client. As for Ann Upcott, she is my +countrywoman. I will not help you against her. So help +me God, I won't!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked across the table at the flushed and angry +face of his "junior colleague," who now resigned his +office and, without parley, accepted his defeat. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't blame you," he answered quietly. "I could, +indeed, hope for no other reply. I must be quick, that's +all. I must be very quick!" +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher's anger fell away from him like a cloak one +drops. He saw Hanaud sitting over against him with a +white, desperately troubled face and eyes in which there +shone unmistakeably some gleam of terror. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me!" he cried in an exasperation. "Be frank +with me for once! Is Ann Upcott guilty? She's not +alone, of course, anyway. There's a gang. We're agreed +upon that. Waberski's one of them, of course? Is Ann +Upcott another? Do you believe it?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud slowly put his exhibits together. There was +a struggle going on within him. The strain of the night +had told upon them both, and he was tempted for once to +make a confidant, tempted intolerably. On the other +hand, Jim Frobisher read in him all the traditions of his +service; to wait upon facts, not to utter suspicions; to be +fair. It was not until he had locked everything away +again in the safe that Hanaud yielded to the temptation. +And even then he could not bring himself to be direct. +</p> + +<p> +"You want to know what I believe of Ann Upcott?" +he cried reluctantly, as though the words were torn from +him. "Go to-morrow to the Church of Notre Dame and +look at the façade. There, since you are not blind, you +will see." +</p> + +<p> +He would say no more; that was clear. Nay, he stood +moodily before Frobisher, already regretting that he had +said so much. Frobisher picked up his hat and stick. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," he said. "Good night." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud let him go to the door. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +"You are free to-morrow. I shall not go to the Maison +Crenelle. Have you any plans?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I am to be taken for a motor-drive round the +neighbourhood." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It is worth while," Hanaud answered listlessly. +"But remember to telephone to me before you go. I shall +be here. I will tell you if I have any news. Good night." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher left him standing in the middle of the +room. Before he had closed the door Hanaud had +forgotten his presence. For he was saying to himself over +and over again, almost with an accent of despair: "I must +be quick! I must be very quick!" +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Frobisher walked briskly down to the Place Ernest +Renan and the Rue de la Liberté, dwelling upon Hanaud's +injunction to examine the façade of Notre Dame. He +must keep that in mind and obey it in the morning. But +that night was not yet over for him. +</p> + +<p> +As he reached the mouth of the little street of Charles-Robert +he heard a light, quick step a little way behind +him—a step that seemed familiar. So when he turned +into the street he sauntered and looked round. He saw +a tall man cross the entrance of the street very quickly +and disappear between, the houses on the opposite side. +The man paused for a second under the light of a street +lamp at the angle of the street, and Jim could have sworn +that it was Hanaud. There were no hotels, no lodgings +in this quarter of the city. It was a quarter of private +houses. What was Hanaud seeking there? +</p> + +<p> +Speculating upon this new question, he forgot the +façade of Notre Dame; and upon his arrival at the Maison +Crenelle a little incident occurred which made the +probability that he would soon remember it remote. He let +himself into the house with a latchkey which had been +given to him, and turned on the light in the hall by means +of a switch at the side of the door. He crossed the hall +to the foot of the stairs, and was about to turn off the +light, using the switch there to which Ann Upcott had +referred, when the door of the treasure-room opened. +Betty appeared in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"You are still up?" he said in a low voice, half pleased +to find her still afoot and half regretful that she was +losing her hours of sleep. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," and slowly her face softened to a smile. "I +waited up for my lodger." +</p> + +<p> +She held the door open, and he followed her back into +the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me look at you," she said, and having looked, she +added: "Jim, something has happened to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Jim nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"What?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Let it wait till to-morrow, Betty!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty smiled no longer. The light died out of her +dark, haunting eyes. Lassitude and distress veiled them. +</p> + +<p> +"Something terrible, then?" she said in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," and she stretched out a hand to the back of a +chair and steadied herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Please tell me, now, Jim! I shall not sleep to-night +unless you do; and oh, I am so tired!" +</p> + +<p> +There was so deep a longing in her voice, so utter a +weariness in the pose of her young body that Jim could +not but yield. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll tell you, Betty," he said gently. "Hanaud and +I went to find Jean Cladel to-night. We found him dead. +He had been murdered—cruelly." +</p> + +<p> +Betty moaned and swayed upon her feet. She would +have fallen had not Jim caught her in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty!" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Betty buried her face upon his shoulder. He could +feel the heave of her bosom against his heart. +</p> + +<p> +"It's appalling!" she moaned. "Jean Cladel! ... No +one ever had heard of him till this morning ... and +now he's swept into this horror—like the rest of us! Oh, +where will it end?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim placed her in a chair and dropped on his knees +beside her. +</p> + +<p> +She was sobbing now, and he tried to lift her face up +to his. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear!" he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +But she would not raise her head. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said in a stifled voice, "no," and she pressed +her face deeper into the crook of his shoulder and clung +to him with desperate hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty!" he repeated, "I am so sorry.... But it'll +all come right. I'm sure it will. Oh, Betty!" And +whilst he spoke he cursed himself for the banality of his +words. Why couldn't he find some ideas that were really +fine with which to comfort her? Something better than +these stupid commonplaces of "I am sorry" and "It will +all straighten out"? But he couldn't, and it seemed that +there was no necessity that he should. For her arms crept +round his neck and held him close. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER NINETEEN: <i>A Plan Frustrated</i> +</h3> + +<p> +The road curled like a paper ribbon round the +shoulder of a hill and dropped into a shallow valley. +To the left a little below the level of the road, a stream +ran swiftly through a narrow meadow of lush green grass. +Beyond the meadow the wall of the valley rose rough with +outcroppings of rock, and with every tuft of its herbage +already brown from the sun. On the right the northern +wall rose almost from the road's edge. The valley was +long and curved slowly, and half-way along to the point +where it disappeared a secondary road, the sort of road +which is indicated in the motorist's hand-books by a dotted +line, branched off to the left, crossed the stream by a +stone bridge and vanished in a cleft of the southern wall. +Beyond this branching road grew trees. The stream +disappeared under them as though it ran into a cavern; the +slopes on either side were hidden behind trees—trees so +thick that here at this end the valley looked bare in the +strong sunlight, but low trees, as if they had determined +to harmonise with their environment. Indeed, the whole +valley had a sort of doll's-house effect—it was so shallow +and narrow and stunted. It tried to be a valley and +succeeded in being a depression. +</p> + +<p> +When the little two-seater car swooped round the +shoulder of the hill and descended, the white ribbon of +road was empty but for one tiny speck at the far end, +behind which a stream of dust spurted and spread like +smoke from the funnel of an engine. +</p> + +<p> +"That motor dust is going to smother us when we +pass," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall do as much for him," said Betty, looking +over her shoulder from the steering wheel. "No, worse!" Behind +the car the dust was a screen. "But I don't mind, +do you, Jim?" she asked with a laugh, in which for the +first time, with a heart of thankfulness, Jim heard a note +of gaiety. "To be free of that town if only for an hour! +Oh!" and Betty opened her lungs to the sunlight and the +air. "This is my first hour of liberty for a week!" +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher was glad, too, to be out upon the slopes of +the Côte-d'Or. The city of Dijon was ringing that +morning with the murder of Jean Cladel; you could not +pass down a street but you heard his name mentioned +and some sarcasms about the police. He wished to forget +that nightmare of a visit to the street of Gambetta +and the dreadful twisted figure on the floor of the back +room. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll be leaving it for good very soon, Betty," he +said significantly. +</p> + +<p> +Betty made a little grimace at him, and laid her hand +upon his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim!" she said, and the colour rose into her face, and +the car swerved across the road. "You mustn't speak like +that to the girl at the wheel," she said with a laugh as she +switched the car back into its course, "or I shall run down +the motor-cyclist and that young lady in the side-car." +</p> + +<p> +"The young lady," said Jim, "happens to be a port-manteau!" +</p> + +<p> +The motor-cyclist, indeed, was slowing down as he +came nearer to the branching road, like a tourist +unacquainted with the country, and when he actually reached +it he stopped altogether and dismounted. Betty brought +her car to a standstill beside him, and glanced at the clock +and the speedometer in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +"Can I help you?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +The man standing beside the motor-cycle was a young +man, slim, dark, and of a pleasant countenance. He took +off his helmet and bowed politely. +</p> + +<p> +"Madame, I am looking for Dijon," he said in a harsh +accent which struck Frobisher as somehow familiar to +his ears. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, you can see the tip of it through that gap +across the valley," Betty returned. In the very centre of +the cleft the point of the soaring spire of the cathedral +stood up like a delicate lance. "But I warn you that that +way, though short, is not good." +</p> + +<p> +Through the gradually thinning cloud of dust which +hung behind the car they heard the jug-jug of another +motor-cycle. +</p> + +<p> +"The road by which we have come is the better one," +she continued. +</p> + +<p> +"But how far is it?" the young man asked. +</p> + +<p> +Betty once more consulted her speedometer. +</p> + +<p> +"Forty kilometres, and we have covered them in forty +minutes, so that you can see the going is good. We +started at eleven punctually, and it is now twenty minutes +to twelve." +</p> + +<p> +"Surely we started before eleven?" Jim interposed. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but we stopped for a minute or two to tighten +the strap of the tool-box on the edge of the town. And +we started from there at eleven." +</p> + +<p> +The motor-cyclist consulted his wrist-watch. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it's twenty minutes to twelve now," he said. +"But forty kilometres! I doubt if I have the essence. I +think I must try the nearer road." +</p> + +<p> +The second motor-cycle came out of the dust like a +boat out of a sea mist and slowed down in turn at the side +of them. The rider jumped out of his saddle, pushed his +goggles up on to his forehead and joined in the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"That little road, Monsieur. It is not one of the +national highways. That shows itself at a glance. But +it is not so bad. From the stone bridge one can be at +the Hôtel de Ville of Dijon in twenty-five minutes." +</p> + +<p> +"I thank you," said the young man. "You will pardon +me. I have been here for seven minutes, and I am +expected." +</p> + +<p> +He replaced his helmet, mounted his machine, and with +a splutter and half a dozen explosions ran down into the +bed of the valley. +</p> + +<p> +The second cyclist readjusted his goggles. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you go first, Madame?" he suggested. "Otherwise +I give you my dust." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you!" said Betty with a smile, and she slipped +in the clutch and started. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the little forest and the curve the ground rose +and the valley flattened out. Across their road a broad +highway set with kilometre stones ran north and south. +</p> + +<p> +"The road to Paris," said Betty as she stopped the car +in front of a little inn with a tangled garden at the angle. +She looked along the road Pariswards. "Air!" she said, +and drew a breath of longing, whilst her eyes kindled +and her white strong teeth clicked as though she was +biting a sweet fruit. +</p> + +<p> +"Soon, Betty," said Jim. "Very soon!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty drove the car into a little yard at the side of +the river. +</p> + +<p> +"We will lunch here, in the garden," she said, "all +amongst the earwigs and the roses." +</p> + +<p> +An omelet, a cutlet perfectly cooked and piping hot, +with a salad and a bottle of Clos du Prince of the 1904 +vintage brought the glowing city of Paris immeasurably +nearer to them. They sat in the open under the shade of +a tall hedge; they had the tangled garden to themselves; +they laughed and made merry in the golden May, and +visions of wonder trembled and opened before Jim +Frobisher's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Betty swept them away, however, when he had lit a +cigar and she a cigarette; and their coffee steamed from +the little cups in front of them. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us be practical, Jim," she said. "I want to talk +to you." +</p> + +<p> +The sparkle of gaiety had left her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes!" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"About Ann." Her eyes swept round and rested on +Jim's face. "She ought to go." +</p> + +<p> +"Run away!" cried Jim with a start. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, at once and as secretly as possible." +</p> + +<p> +Jim turned the proposal over in his mind whilst Betty +waited in suspense. +</p> + +<p> +"It couldn't be managed," he objected. +</p> + +<p> +"It could." +</p> + +<p> +"Even if it could, would she consent?" +</p> + +<p> +"She does." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it's pleading guilty," he said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it isn't, Jim. She wants time, that's all. Time +for my necklace to be traced, time for the murderer of +Jean Cladel to be discovered. You remember what I told +you about Hanaud? He must have his victim. You +wouldn't believe me, but it's true. He has got to go back +to Paris and say, 'You see, they sent from Dijon for me, +and five minutes! That's all I needed! Five little minutes +and there's your murderess, all tied up and safe!' He +tried to fix it on me first." +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"He did, Jim. And now that has failed he has turned +on Ann. She'll have to go. Since he can't get me he'll +take my friend—yes, and manufacture the evidence into +the bargain." +</p> + +<p> +"Betty! Hanaud wouldn't do that!" Frobisher protested. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Jim, he has done it," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"When?" +</p> + +<p> +"When he put that Edinburgh man's book about the +arrow poison back upon the bookshelf in the library." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was utterly taken back. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you know that he had done that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I couldn't help knowing," she answered. "The +moment he took the book down it was clear to me. He +knew it from end to end, as if it was a primer. He could +put his finger on the plates, on the history of my uncle's +arrow, on the effect of the poison, on the solution that +could be made of it in an instant. He pretended that he +had learnt all that in the half-hour he waited for us. It +wasn't possible. He had found that book the afternoon +before somewhere and had taken it away with him secretly +and sat up half the night over it. That's what he had +done." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher was sunk in confusion. He had been +guessing first this person, then that, and in the end had +had to be told the truth; whereas Betty had reached it in +a flash by using her wits. He felt that he had been just +one minute and a half in the bull-ring. +</p> + +<p> +Betty added in a hot scorn: +</p> + +<p> +"Then when he had learnt it all up by heart he puts +it back secretly in the bookshelf and accuses us." +</p> + +<p> +"But he admits he put it back," said Jim slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Betty was startled. +</p> + +<p> +"When did he admit it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Last night. To me," replied Jim, and Betty laughed +bitterly. She would hear no good of Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, now that he has something better to go upon." +</p> + +<p> +"Something better?" +</p> + +<p> +"The disappearance of my necklace. Oh, Jim, Ann +has got to go. If she could get to England they couldn't +bring her back, could they? They haven't evidence +enough. It's only suspicion and suspicion and suspicion. +But here in France it's different, isn't it? They can hold +people on suspicion, keep them shut up by themselves and +question them again and again. Oh, yesterday afternoon +in the hall—don't you remember, Jim?—I thought +Hanaud was going to arrest her there and then." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought so, too." +</p> + +<p> +He had been a little shocked by Betty's proposal, but +the more familiar he became with it, the more it appealed +to him. There was an overpowering argument in its +favour of which neither he nor Hanaud had told Betty +a word. The shaft of the arrow had been discovered in +Ann Upcott's room, and the dart in the house of Jean +Cladel. These were overpowering facts. On the whole, +it was better that Ann should go, now, whilst there was +still time—if, that is, Hanaud did undoubtedly believe her +to be guilty. +</p> + +<p> +"But it is evident that he does," cried Betty. +</p> + +<p> +Jim answered slowly: +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose he does. We can make sure, anyway. I +had a doubt last night. So I asked him point-blank." +</p> + +<p> +"And he answered you?" Betty asked with a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes and no. He gave me the strangest answer." +</p> + +<p> +"What did he say?" +</p> + +<p> +"He told me to visit the Church of Notre Dame. If +I did, I should read upon the façade whether Ann was +innocent or not." +</p> + +<p> +Slowly every tinge of colour ebbed out of Betty's face. +Her eyes stared at him horror-stricken. She sat, a figure +of ice—except for her eyes which blazed. +</p> + +<p> +"That's terrible," she said with a low voice, and again +"That's terrible!" Then with a cry she stood erect +"You shall see! Come!" and she ran towards the motorcar. +</p> + +<p> +The sunlit day was spoilt for both of them. Betty +drove homewards, bending over the wheel, her eyes fixed +ahead. But Frobisher wondered whether she saw anything +at all of that white road which the car devoured. +Once as they dropped from the highland and the forests +to the plains, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"We shall abide by what we see?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"If Hanaud thinks her innocent, she should stay. If +he thinks her guilty, she must go." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +Betty guided the car through the streets of the city, +and into a wide square. A great church of the Renaissance +type, with octagonal cupolas upon its two towers +and another little cupola surmounted by a loggia above +its porch, confronted them. Betty stopped the car and +led Frobisher into the porch. Above the door was a +great bas-relief of the Last Judgment, God amongst the +clouds, angels blowing trumpets, and the damned rising +from their graves to undergo their torments. Both Betty +and Frobisher gazed at the representation for a while in +silence. To Frobisher it was a cruel and brutal piece of +work which well matched Hanaud's revelation of his true +belief. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, the message is easy to read," he said: and they +drove back in a melancholy silence to the Maison Crenelle. +</p> + +<p> +The chauffeur, Georges, came forward from the garage +to take charge of the car. Betty ran inside the house +and waited for Jim Frobisher to join her. +</p> + +<p> +"I am so sorry," she said in a broken voice. "I kept +a hope somewhere that we were all mistaken ... I +mean as to the danger Ann was in.... I don't believe +for a moment in her guilt, of course. But she must +go—that's clear." +</p> + +<p> +She went slowly up the stairs, and Jim saw no more of +her until dinner was served long after its usual hour. +Ann Upcott he had not seen at all that day, nor did he +even see her then. Betty came to him in the library a +few minutes before nine. +</p> + +<p> +"We are very late, I am afraid. There are just the +two of us, Jim," she said with a smile, and she led the +way into the dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +Through the meal she was anxious and preoccupied, +nodding her assent to anything that he said, with her +thoughts far away and answering him at random, or not +answering him at all. She was listening, Frobisher +fancied, for some sound in the hall, an expected sound +which was overdue. For her eyes went continually to +the clock, and a flurry and agitation, very strange in one +naturally so still, became more and more evident in her +manner. At length, just before ten o'clock, they both +heard the horn of a motor-car in the quiet street. The +car stopped, as it seemed to Frobisher, just outside the +gates, and upon that there followed the sound for which +Betty had so anxiously been listening—the closing of a +heavy door by some one careful to close it quietly. Betty +shot a quick glance at Jim Frobisher and coloured when +he intercepted it. A few seconds afterwards the car +moved on, and Betty drew a long breath. Jim Frobisher +leaned forward to Betty. Though they were alone in the +room, he spoke in a low voice of surprise: +</p> + +<p> +"Ann Upcott has gone then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"So soon? You had everything already arranged +then?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was all arranged yesterday evening. She should +be in Paris to-morrow morning, England to-morrow +night. If only all goes well!" +</p> + +<p> +Even in the stress of her anxiety Betty had been +sensitive to a tiny note of discontent in Jim Frobisher's +questions. He had been left out of the counsels of the two +girls, their arrangements had been made without his +participation, he had only been told of them at the last +minute, just as if he was a babbler not to be trusted and an +incompetent whose advice would only have been a waste +of time. Betty made her excuses. +</p> + +<p> +"It would have been better, of course, if we had got +you to help us, Jim. But Ann wouldn't have it. She +insisted that you had come out here on my account, and +that you mustn't be dragged into such an affair as her +flight and escape at all. She made it a condition, so I had +to give way. But you can help me now tremendously." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was appeased. Betty at all events had wanted +him, was still alarmed lest their plan undertaken without +his advice might miscarry. +</p> + +<p> +"How can I help?" +</p> + +<p> +"You can go to that cinema and keep Monsieur Hanaud +engaged. It's important that he should know nothing +about Ann's flight until late to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +Jim laughed at the futility of Hanaud's devices to +hide himself. It was obviously all over the town that +he spent his evenings in the Grande Taverne. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'll go," he returned. "I'll go now." +</p> + +<p> +But Hanaud was not that night in his accustomed +place, and Jim sat there alone until half-past ten. Then +a man strolled out from one of the billiard-rooms, and +standing behind Jim with his eyes upon the screen, said +in a whisper: +</p> + +<p> +"Do not look at me, Monsieur! It is Moreau. I go +outside. Will you please to follow." +</p> + +<p> +He strolled away. Jim gave him a couple of minutes' +grace. He had remembered Hanaud's advice and had +paid for his Bock when it had been brought to him. The +little saucer was turned upside down to show that he +owed nothing. When two minutes had elapsed he +sauntered out and, looking neither to the right nor to the +left, strolled indolently along the Rue de la Gare. When +he reached the Place Darcy Nicolas Moreau passed him +without a sign of recognition and struck off to the right +along the Rue de la Liberté. Frobisher followed him +with a sinking heart. It was folly of course to imagine +that Hanaud could be so easily eluded. No doubt that +motor-car had been stopped. No doubt Ann Upcott was +already under lock and key! Why, the last words he had +heard Hanaud speak were "I must be quick!" +</p> + +<p> +Moreau turned off into the Boulevard Sevigne and, +doubling back to the station square, slipped into one of +the small hotels which cluster in that quarter. The lobby +was empty; a staircase narrow and steep led from it to the +upper stories. Moreau now ascended it with Frobisher +at his heels, and opened a door. Frobisher looked into a +small and dingy sitting-room at the back of the house. +The windows were open, but the shutters were closed. A +single pendant in the centre of the room gave it light, and +at a table under the pendant Hanaud sat poring over a map. +</p> + +<p> +The map was marked with red ink in a curious way. +A sort of hoop, very much the shape of a tennis racket +without its handle, was described upon it and from the +butt to the top of the hoop an irregular line was drawn, +separating the hoop roughly into two semi-circles. +Moreau left Jim Frobisher standing there, and in a +moment or two Hanaud looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you know, my friend," he asked very gravely, +"that Ann Upcott has gone to-night to Madame Le Vay's +fancy dress ball?" +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher was taken completely by surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I see that you didn't," Hanaud went on. He +took up his pen and placed a red spot at the edge of the +hoop close by the butt. +</p> + +<p> +Jim recovered from his surprise. Madame Le Vay's +ball was the spot from which the start was to be made. +The plan after all was not so ill-devised, if only Ann could +have got to the ball unnoticed. Masked and in fancy +dress, amongst a throng of people similarly accoutred, in +a house with a garden, no doubt thrown open upon this +hot night and lit only by lanterns discreetly dim—she had +thus her best chance of escape. But the chance was +already lost. For Hanaud laid down his pen again and +said in ominous tones: +</p> + +<p> +"The water-lily, eh? That pretty water-lily, my friend, +will not dance very gaily to-night." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY: <i>Map and the Necklace</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Hanaud turned his map round and pushed it +across the table to Jim Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you make of that?" he asked, and Jim drew +up a chair and sat down to examine it. +</p> + +<p> +He made first of all a large scale map of Dijon and +its environments, the town itself lying at the bottom of +the red hoop and constituting the top of the handle of the +tennis racket. As to the red circle, it seemed to +represent a tour which some one had made out from Dijon, +round a good tract of outlying country and back again to +the city. But there was more to it than that. The wavy +dividing line, for instance, from the top of the circle to +the handle, that is to Dijon; and on the left-hand edge of +the hoop, as he bent over the map, and just outside Dijon, +the red mark, a little red square which Hanaud had just +made. Against this square an hour was marked. +</p> + +<p> +"Eleven a.m.," he read. +</p> + +<p> +He followed the red curve with his eyes and just where +this dividing line touched the rim of the hoop, another +period was inscribed. Here Frobisher read: +</p> + +<p> +"Eleven forty." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher looked up at Hanaud in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"Good God!" he exclaimed, and he bent again over +the map. The point where the dividing line branched off +was in a valley, as he could see by the contours—yes—he +had found the name now—the Val Terzon. Just before +eleven o'clock Betty had stopped the car just outside +Dijon, opposite a park with a big house standing back, and +had asked him to tighten the strap of the tool box. They +had started again exactly at eleven. Betty had taken note +of the exact time—and they had stopped where the +secondary road branched off and doubled back to Dijon, at +the top of the hoop, at the injunction of the rim and +the dividing line, exactly at eleven forty. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a chart of the expedition we made to-day," he +cried. "We were followed then?" +</p> + +<p> +He remembered suddenly the second motor-cyclist who +had come up from behind through the screen of their +dust and had stopped by the side of their car to join in +their conversation with the tourist. +</p> + +<p> +"The motor-cyclist?" he asked, and again he got no +answer. +</p> + +<p> +But the motor-cyclist had not followed them all the way +round. On their homeward course they had stopped to +lunch in the tangled garden. There had been no sign of +the man. Jim looked at the map again. He followed the +red line from the junction of the two roads, round the +curve of the valley, to the angle where the great National +road to Paris cut across and where they had lunched. +After luncheon they had continued along the National +road into Dijon, whereas the red line crossed it and came +back by a longer and obviously a less frequented route. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't imagine why you had us followed this morning, +Monsieur Hanaud," he exclaimed with some heat. +"But I can tell you this. The chase was not very +efficiently contrived. We didn't come home that way at +all." +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't an idea how you came home," Hanaud +answered imperturbably. "The line on that side of the +circle has nothing to do with you at all, as you can see +for yourself by looking at the time marked where the +line begins." +</p> + +<p> +The red hoop at the bottom was not complete; there +was a space where the spliced handle of the racket would +fit in, the space filled by the town of Dijon, and at the +point on the right hand side where the line started +Frobisher read in small but quite clear figures: +</p> + +<p> +"Ten twenty-five a.m." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was more bewildered than ever. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand one word of it," he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud reached over and touched the point with the +tip of his pen. +</p> + +<p> +"This is where the motor-cyclist started, the cyclist who +met you at the branch road at eleven-forty." +</p> + +<p> +"The tourist?" asked Jim. A second ago it had seemed +to him impossible that the fog could thicken about his +wits any more. And yet it had. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us say the man with the portmanteau on his +trailer," Hanaud corrected. "You see that he left his +starting point in Dijon thirty-five minutes before you +left yours. The whole manoeuvre seems to have been +admirably planned. For you met precisely at the +arranged spot at eleven-forty. Neither the car nor the +cycle had to wait one moment." +</p> + +<p> +"Manoeuvre! Arranged spot!" Frobisher exclaimed, +looking about him in a sort of despair. "Has every one +gone crazy? Why in the world should a man start out +with a portmanteau in a side-car from Dijon at ten +twenty-five, run thirty or forty miles into the country by +a roundabout road and then return by a bad straight +track? There's no sense in it!" +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt it's perplexing," Hanaud agreed. He nodded +to Moreau who went out of the room by a communicating +door towards the front of the house. "But I can +help you," Hanaud continued. "At the point where you +started after tightening the strap of the tool-box, on the +edge of the town, a big country house stands back in a +park?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"That is the house of Madame Le Vay where this fancy +dress ball takes place to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Madame Le Vay's château!" Frobisher repeated. +"Where——" he began a question and caught it back. +But Hanaud completed it for him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, where Ann Upcott now is. You started from +it at precisely eleven in the morning." He looked at his +watch. "It is not yet quite eleven at night. So she is +still there." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher started back in his chair. Hanaud's words +were like the blade of silver light cutting through the +darkness of the cinema hall and breaking into a sheet of +radiance upon the screen. The meaning of the red +diagram upon Hanaud's map, the unsuspected motive of +Betty's expedition this morning were revealed to him. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a rehearsal," he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"A time-rehearsal." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, the sort of thing which takes place in theatres, +without the principal members of the company," thought +Frobisher. But a moment later he was dissatisfied with +that explanation. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a moment!" he said. "That won't do, I fancy." +</p> + +<p> +The motor-cyclist with the side-car had brought his +arguments to a standstill. His times were marked upon +the map; they were therefore of importance. What had +he to do with Ann Upcott's escape? But he visualised +the motor-cyclist and his side-car and his connection with +the affair became evident. The big portmanteau gave +Frobisher the clue. Ann Upcott would be leaving +Madame Le Vay's house in her ball-dress, just as if she +was returning to the Maison Crenelle—and without any +luggage at all. She could not arrive in Paris in the +morning like that if she were to avoid probably suspicion +and certainly remark. The motor-cyclist was to meet her +in the Val Terzon, transfer her luggage rapidly to her +car, and then return to Dijon by the straight quick road +whilst Ann turned off at the end of the valley to Paris. +He remembered now that seven minutes had elapsed +between the meeting of the cycle and the motor-car and +their separation. Seven minutes then were allowed for +the transference of the luggage. Another argument +flashed into his thoughts. Betty had told him nothing of +this plan. It had been presented to him as a mere excursion +on a summer day, her first hours of liberty naturally +employed. Her silence was all of a piece with the +determination of Betty and Ann Upcott to keep him altogether +out of the conspiracy. Every detail fitted like the blocks +in a picture puzzle. Yes, there had been a time-rehearsal. +And Hanaud knew all about it! +</p> + +<p> +That was the disturbing certainty which first +overwhelmed Frobisher when he had got the better of his +surprise at the scheme itself. Hanaud knew! and Betty +had so set her heart on Ann's escape. +</p> + +<p> +"Let her go!" he pleaded earnestly. "Let Ann Upcott +get away to Paris and to England!" and Hanaud leaned +back in his chair with a little gasp. The queerest smile +broke over his face. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I know," Frobisher exclaimed, hotly appealing. +"You are of the Sûrété and I am a lawyer, an officer of +the High Court in my country and I have no right to +make such a petition. But I do without a scruple. You +can't get a conviction against Ann Upcott. You haven't +a chance of it. But you can throw such a net of suspicion +about her that she'll never get out of it. You can ruin +her—yes—but that's all you can do." +</p> + +<p> +"You speak very eagerly, my friend," Hanaud interposed. +</p> + +<p> +Jim could not explain that it was Betty's anxiety to +save her friend which inspired his plea. He fell back +upon the scandal which such a trial would cause. +</p> + +<p> +"There has been enough publicity already owing to +Boris Waberski," he continued. "Surely Miss Harlowe +has had distress enough. Why must she stand in the +witness-box and give evidence against her friend in a +trial which can have no result? That's what I want you +to realise, Monsieur Hanaud. I have had some experience +of criminal trials"—O shade of Mr. Haslitt! Why +was that punctilious man not there in the flesh to wipe +out with an indignant word the slur upon the firm of +Frobisher and Haslitt?—"And I assure you that no jury +could convict upon such evidence. Why, even the pearl +necklace has not been traced—and it never will be. You +can take that from me, Monsieur Hanaud! It never +will be!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud opened a drawer in the table and took out one +of those little cedar-wood boxes made to hold a hundred +cigarettes, which the better class of manufacturers use +in England for their wares. He pushed this across the +table towards Jim. Something which was more substantial +than cigarettes rattled inside of it. Jim seized upon +it in a panic. He had not a doubt that Betty would far +sooner lose her necklace altogether than that her friend +Ann Upcott should be destroyed by it. He opened the +lid of the box. It was filled with cotton-wool. From +the cotton-wool he took a string of pearls perfectly graded +in size, and gleaming softly with a pink lustre which, +even to his untutored eyes, was indescribably lovely. +</p> + +<p> +"It would have been more correct if I had found them +in a matchbox," said Hanaud. "But I shall point out to +Monsieur Bex that after all matches and cigarettes are +akin." +</p> + +<p> +Jim was still staring at the necklace in utter +disappointment when Moreau knocked upon the other side of +the communicating door. Hanaud looked again at his +watch. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is eleven o'clock. We must go. The car has +started from the house of Madame Le Vay." +</p> + +<p> +He rose from his chair, buried the necklace again +within the layers of cotton-wool, and locked it up once +more in the drawer. The room had faded away from +Jim Frobisher's eyes. He was looking at a big, brilliantly +illuminated house, and a girl who slipped from a +window and, wrapping a dark cloak about her glistening +dress, ran down the dark avenue in her dancing slippers +to where a car waited hidden under trees. +</p> + +<p> +"The car may not have started," Jim said with sudden +hopefulness. "There may have been an accident to it. +The chauffeur may be late. Oh, a hundred things may +have happened!" +</p> + +<p> +"With a scheme so carefully devised, so meticulously +rehearsed? No, my friend." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud took an automatic pistol from a cabinet against +the wall and placed it in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to leave that necklace just like that +in a table drawer?" Jim asked. "We ought to take it +first to the Prefecture." +</p> + +<p> +"This room is not unwatched," replied Hanaud. "It +will be safe." +</p> + +<p> +Jim hopefully tried another line of argument. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be too late now to intercept Ann Upcott at +the branch road," he argued. "It is past eleven, as you +say—well past eleven. And thirty-five minutes on a +motor-cycle in the daytime means fifty minutes in a car +at night, especially with a bad road to travel." +</p> + +<p> +"We don't intend to intercept Ann Upcott at the branch +road," Hanaud returned. He folded up the map and +put it aside upon the mantelshelf. +</p> + +<p> +"I take a big risk, you know," he said softly. "But I +must take it! And—no! I can't be wrong!" But he +turned from the mantelshelf with a very anxious and +troubled face. Then, as he looked at Jim, a fresh idea +came into his mind. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way," he said. "The façade of Notre Dame?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"The bas-relief of The Last Judgment. We went to +see it. We thought your way of saying what you +believed a little brutal." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud remained silent with his eyes upon the floor +for a few seconds. Then he said quietly: "I am +sorry." He tacked on a question. "You say 'we'?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle Harlowe and I," Jim explained. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes—to be sure. I should have thought of that," +and once more his troubled cry broke from him. "It +must be that!—No, I can't be wrong.... Anyway, it's +too late to change now." +</p> + +<p> +A second time Moreau rapped upon the communicating +door. Hanaud sprang to alertness. +</p> + +<p> +"That's it," he said. "Take your hat and stick, +Monsieur Frobisher! Good! You are ready?" and the room +was at once plunged into darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud opened the communicating door, and they +passed into the front room—a bedroom looking out upon +the big station square. This room was in darkness too. +But the shutters were not closed, and there were patches +of light upon the walls from the lamps in the square and +the Grande Taverne at the corner. The three men could +see one another, and to Jim in this dusk the faces of his +companions appeared of a ghastly pallor. +</p> + +<p> +"Daunay took his position when I first knocked," said +Moreau. "Patinot has just joined him." +</p> + +<p> +He pointed across the square to the station buildings. +Some cabs were waiting for the Paris train, and in front +of them two men dressed like artisans were talking. One +of them lit a cigarette from the stump of a cigarette held +out to him by his companion. The watchers in the room +saw the end of the cigarette glow red. +</p> + +<p> +"The way is clear, Monsieur," said Moreau. "We can +go." And he turned and went out of the inn to the +staircase. Jim started to follow him. Whither they were +going Jim had not a notion, not even a conjecture. But +he was gravely troubled. All his hopes and Betty's hopes +for the swift and complete suppression of the Waberski +affair had seemingly fallen to the ground. He was not +reassured when Hanaud's hand was laid on his arm and +detained him. +</p> + +<p> +"You understand, Monsieur Frobisher," said Hanaud +with a quiet authority, his eyes shining very steadily in +the darkness, his face glimmering very white, "that now +the Law of France takes charge. There must not be a +finger raised or a word spoken to hinder officers upon +their duty. On the other hand, I make you in return the +promise you desire. No one shall be arrested on +suspicion. Your own eyes shall bear me out." +</p> + +<p> +The two men followed Moreau down the stairs and into +the street. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: <i>The Secret House</i> +</h3> + +<p> +It was a dark, clear night, the air very still and warm, +and the sky bright with innumerable stars. The small +company penetrated into the town by the backways and +narrow alleys. Daunay going on ahead, Patinot the last +by some thirty yards, and Moreau keeping upon the +opposite side of the street. Once they had left behind them +the lights of the station square, they walked amongst +closed doors and the blind faces of unlit houses. +Frobisher's heart raced within his bosom. He strained his +eyes and ears for some evidence of spies upon their heels. +But no one was concealed in any porch, and not the +stealthiest sound of a pursuit was borne to their hearing. +</p> + +<p> +"On a night like this," he said in tones which, strive +as he might to steady them, were still a little tremulous, +"one could hear a footstep on the stones a quarter of a +mile away, and we hear nothing. Yet, if there is a gang, +it can hardly be that we are unwatched." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud disagreed. "This is a night for alibis," he +returned, lowering his voice; "good, sound, incontestable +alibis. All but those engaged will be publicly with their +friends, and those engaged do not know how near we are +to their secrets." +</p> + +<p> +They turned into a narrow street and kept on its +left-hand side. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know where we are?" Hanaud asked. "No? +Yet we are near to the Maison Crenelle. On the other +side of these houses to our left runs the street of +Charles-Robert." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher stopped dead. +</p> + +<p> +"It was here, then, that you came last night after I +left you at the Prefecture," he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, you recognised me, then!" Hanaud returned +imperturbably. "I wondered whether you did when you +turned at the gates of your house." +</p> + +<p> +On the opposite side of the street the houses were +broken by a high wall, in which two great wooden doors +were set. Behind the wall, at the end of a courtyard, the +upper storey and the roof of a considerable house rose +in a steep ridge against the stars. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud pointed towards it. +</p> + +<p> +"Look at that house, Monsieur! There Madame +Raviart came to live whilst she waited to be set free. It +belongs to the Maison Crenelle. After she married Simon +Harlowe, they would never let it, they kept it just as it +was, the shrine of their passion—that strange romantic +couple. But there was more romance in that, to be sure. +It has been unoccupied ever since." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher felt a chill close about his heart. Was +that house the goal to which Hanaud was leading him +with so confident a step? He looked at the gates and +the house. Even in the night it had a look of long neglect +and decay, the paint peeling from the doors and not a +light in any window. +</p> + +<p> +Some one in the street, however, was awake, for just +above their heads, a window was raised with the utmost +caution and a whisper floated down to them. +</p> + +<p> +"No one has appeared." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud took no open notice of the whisper. He did +not pause in his walk, but he said to Frobisher: +</p> + +<p> +"And, as you hear, it is still unoccupied." +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the street Daunay melted away +altogether. Hanaud and Frobisher crossed the road and, +with Moreau just ahead, turned down a passage between, +the houses to the right. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the passage they turned again to the right into +a narrow lane between high walls; and when they had +covered thirty yards or so, Frobisher saw the branches of +leafy trees over the wall upon his right. It was so dark +here under the shade of the boughs that Frobisher could +not even see his companions; and he knocked against +Moreau before he understood that they had come to the +end of their journey. They were behind the garden of +the house in which Madame Raviart had lived and loved. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's hand tightened upon Jim Frobisher's arm, +constraining him to absolute immobility. Patinot had +vanished as completely and noiselessly as Daunay. The +three men left stood in the darkness and listened. A +sentence which Ann Upcott had spoken in the garden of the +Maison Crenelle, when she had been describing the terror +with which she had felt the face bending over her in +the darkness, came back to him. He had thought it false +then. He took back his criticism now. For he too +imagined that the beating of his heart must wake all +Dijon. +</p> + +<p> +They stood there motionless for the space of a minute, +and then, at a touch from Hanaud, Nicolas Moreau +stooped. Frobisher heard the palm of his hand sliding +over wood and immediately after the tiniest little click as +a key was fitted into a lock and turned. A door in the +wall swung silently open and let a glimmer of light into +the lane. The three men passed into a garden of weeds +and rank grass and overgrown bushes. Moreau closed +and locked the door behind them. As he locked the door +the clocks of the city struck the half hour. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud whispered in Frobisher's ear: +</p> + +<p> +"They have not yet reached the Val Terzon. Come!" +</p> + +<p> +They crept over the mat of grass and weeds to the +back of the house. A short flight of stone steps, patched +with mould, descended from a terrace; at the back of the +terrace were shuttered windows. But in the corner of +the house, on a level with the garden, there was a door. +Once more Moreau stooped, and once more a door swung +inwards without a sound. But whereas the garden door +had let through some gleam of twilight, this door opened +upon the blackness of the pit. Jim Frobisher shrank +back from it, not in physical fear but in an appalling dread +that some other man than he, wearing his clothes and his +flesh, would come out of that door again. His heart +came to a standstill, and then Hanaud pushed him gently +into the passage. The door was closed behind them, an +almost inaudible sound told him that now the door was +locked. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen!" Hanaud whispered sharply. His trained ear +had caught a sound in the house above them. And in a +second Frobisher heard it too, a sound regular and +continuous and very slight, but in that uninhabited house +filled with uttermost blackness, very daunting. +Gradually the explanation dawned upon Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a clock ticking," he said under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! A clock ticking away in the empty house!" +returned Hanaud. And though his answer was rather +breathed than whispered, there was a queer thrill in it +the sound of which Jim could not mistake. The hunter +had picked up his spoor. Just beyond the quarry would +come in view. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a thread of light gleamed along the passage, +lit up a short flight of stairs and a door on the right at the +head of them, and went out again. Hanaud slipped his +electric torch back into his pocket and, passing Moreau, +took the lead. The door at the head of the stairs opened +with a startling whine of its hinges. Frobisher stopped +with his heart in his throat, though what he feared he +could not have told even himself. Again the thread of +light shone, and this time it explored. The three found +themselves in a stone-flagged hall. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud crossed it, extinguished his torch and opened +a door. A broken shutter, swinging upon a hinge, enabled +them dimly to see a gallery which stretched away into the +gloom. The faint light penetrating from the window +showed them a high double door leading to some room +at the back of the house. Hanaud stole over the boards +and laid his ear to the panel. In a little while he was +satisfied; his hand dropped to the knob and a leaf of the +door opened noiselessly. Once more the torch glowed. +Its beam played upon the high ceiling, the tall windows +shrouded in heavy curtains of red silk brocade, and +revealed to Frobisher's amazement a room which had a +look of daily use. All was orderly and clean, the furniture +polished and in good repair; there were fresh flowers +in the vases, whose perfume filled the air; and it was +upon the marble chimney-piece of this room that the clock +ticked. +</p> + +<p> +The room was furnished with lightness and elegance, +except for one fine and massive press, with double doors +in marquetry, which occupied a recess near to the +fireplace. Girandoles with mirrors and gilt frames, now +fitted with electric lights, were fixed upon the walls, with +a few pictures in water-colour. A chandelier glittering +with lustres hung from the ceiling, an Empire writing-table +stood near the window, a deep-cushioned divan +stretched along the wall opposite the fire-place. So much +had Frobisher noticed when the light again went out. +Hanaud closed the door upon the room again. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be hidden in the embrasure of any of these +windows," Hanaud whispered, when they were once more +in the long gallery. "No light will be shown here with +that shutter hanging loose, we may be sure. Meanwhile +let us watch and be very silent." +</p> + +<p> +They took their stations in the deep shadows by the +side of the window with the broken shutter. They could +see dimly the courtyard and the great carriage doors in +the wall at the end of it, and they waited; Jim Frobisher +under such a strain of dread and expectancy that each +second seemed an hour, and he wondered at the immobility +of his companions. The only sound of breathing +that he heard came from his own lungs. +</p> + +<p> +In a while Hanaud laid a hand upon his sleeve, and the +clasp of the hand tightened and tightened. Motionless +though he stood like a man in a seizure, Hanaud too was +in the grip of an intense excitement. For one of the +great leaves of the courtyard door was opening silently. +It opened just a little way and as silently closed again. +But some one had slipped in—so vague and swift and +noiseless a figure that Jim would have believed his +imagination had misled him but for a thicker blot of darkness +at the centre of the great door. There some one stood +now who had not stood there a minute before, as silent +and still as any of the watchers in the gallery, and more +still than one. For Hanaud moved suddenly away on +the tips of his toes into the deepest of the gloom and, +sinking down upon his heels, drew his watch from his +pocket. He drew his coat closely about it and for a +fraction of a second flashed his torchlight on the dial. It was +now five minutes past twelve. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the time," he breathed as he crept back to his +place. "Listen now!" +</p> + +<p> +A minute passed and another. Frobisher found himself +shivering as a man shivers at a photographer's when +he is told by the operator to keep still. He had a notion +that he was going to fall. Then a distant noise caught his +ear, and at once his nerves grew steady. It was the throb +of a motor-cycle, and it grew louder and louder. He felt +Hanaud stiffen at his side. Hanaud had been right, +then! The conviction deepened in his mind. When all +had been darkness and confusion to him, Hanaud from +the first had seen clearly. But what had he seen? +Frobisher was still unable to answer that question, and whilst +he fumbled amongst conjectures a vast relief swept over +him. For the noise of the cycle had ceased altogether. +It had roared through some contiguous street and gone +upon its way into the open country. Not the faintest +pulsation of its engine was any longer audible. That +late-faring traveller had taken Dijon in his stride. +</p> + +<p> +In a revulsion of relief he pictured him devouring the +road, the glow of his lamp putting the stars to shame, the +miles leaping away behind him; and suddenly the pleasant +picture was struck from before his vision and his heart +fluttered up into his throat. For the leaf of the great +coach-door was swung wider, and closed again, and the +motor-cycle with its side-car was within the courtyard. +The rider had slipped out his clutch and stopped his engine +more than a hundred yards away in the other street. His +own impetus had been enough and more than enough to +swing him round the corner along the road and into the +courtyard. The man who had closed the door moved to +his side as he dismounted. Between them they lifted +something from the side-car and laid it on the ground. +The watchman held open the door again, the cyclist +wheeled out his machine, the door was closed, a key +turned in the lock. Not a word had been spoken, not an +unnecessary movement made. It had all happened within +the space of a few seconds. The man waited by the gate, +and in a little while from some other street the cyclist's +engine was heard once more to throb. His work was +done. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher wondered that Hanaud should let him +go. But Hanaud had eyes for no one but the man who +was left behind and the big package upon the ground +under the blank side wall. The man moved to it, stooped, +raised it with an appearance of effort, then stood upright +holding it in his arms. It was something shapeless and +long and heavy. So much the watchers in the gallery +could see, but no more. +</p> + +<p> +The man in the courtyard moved towards the door +without a sound; and Hanaud drew his companions back +from the window of the broken shutter. Quick as they +were, they were only just in time to escape from that +revealing twilight. Already the intruder with his burden +stood within the gallery. The front door was unlatched, +that was clear. It had needed but a touch to open it. +The intruder moved without a sound to the double door, +of which Hanaud had opened one leaf. He stood in front +of it, pushed it with his foot and both the leaves swung +inwards. He disappeared into the room. But the faint +misty light had fallen upon him for a second, and though +none could imagine who he was, they all three saw that +what he carried was a heavy sack. +</p> + +<p> +Now, at all events, Hanaud would move, thought +Frobisher. But he did not. They all heard the man now, +but not his footsteps. It was just the brushing of his +clothes against furniture: then came a soft, almost +inaudible sound, as though he had laid his burden down +upon the deep-cushioned couch: then he himself +reappeared in the doorway, his arms empty, his hat pressed +down upon his forehead, and a dim whiteness where his +face should be. But dark as it was, they saw the glitter +of his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"It will be now," Frobisher said to himself, expecting +that Hanaud would leap from the gloom and bear the +intruder to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +But this man, too, Hanaud let go. He closed the doors +again, drawing the two leaves together, and stole from +the gallery. No one heard the outer door close, but +with a startling loudness some metal thing rang upon +stone, and within the house. Even Jim Frobisher +understood that the outer door had been locked and the key +dropped through the letter slot. The three men crept +back to their window. They saw the intruder cross the +courtyard, open one leaf of the coach door, peer this way +and that and go. Again a key tinkled upon stones. The +key of the great door had been pushed or kicked +underneath it back into the courtyard. The clocks suddenly +chimed the quarter. To Frobisher's amazement it was +a quarter-past twelve. Between the moment when the +cyclist rode his car in at the doors and now, just five +minutes had elapsed. And again, but for the three men, +the house was empty. +</p> + +<p> +Or was it empty? +</p> + +<p> +For Hanaud had slipped across to the door of the room +and opened it; and a slight sound broke out of that black +room, as of some living thing which moved uneasily. +At Jim Frobisher's elbow Hanaud breathed a sigh of +relief. Something, it seemed, had happened for which +he had hardly dared to hope; some great dread he knew +with certainty had not been fulfilled. On the heels of that +sigh a sharp loud click rang out, the release of a spring, +the withdrawal of a bolt. Hanaud drew the door swiftly +to and the three men fell back. Some one had somehow +entered that room, some one was moving quietly about it. +From the corner of the corridor in which they had taken +refuge, the three men saw the leaves of the door swing +very slowly in upon their hinges. Some one appeared +upon the threshold, and stood motionless, listening, and +after a few seconds advanced across the gallery to the +window. It was a girl—so much they could determine +from the contour of her head and the slim neck. To the +surprise of those three a second shadow flitted to her +side. Both of them peered from the window into the +courtyard. There was nothing to tell them there whether +the midnight visitors had come and gone or not yet come +at all. One of them whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"The key!" +</p> + +<p> +And the other, the shorter one, crept into the hall and +returned with the key which had been dropped through +the letter slot in her hand. The taller of the two laughed, +and the sound of it, so clear, so joyous like the trill of a +bird, it was impossible for Jim Frobisher even for a +second to mistake. The second girl standing at the window +of this dark and secret house, with the key in her hand to +tell her that all that had been plotted had been done, was +Betty Harlowe. Jim Frobisher had never imagined a +sound so sinister, so alarming, as that clear, joyous +laughter lilting through the silent gallery. It startled +him, it set his whole faith in the world shuddering. +</p> + +<p> +"There must be some good explanation," he argued, +but his heart was sinking amidst terrors. Of what +dreadful event was that laughter to be the prelude? +</p> + +<p> +The two figures at the window flitted back across the +gallery. It seemed that there was no further reason for +precautions. +</p> + +<p> +"Shut the door, Francine," said Betty in her ordinary +voice. And when this was done, within the room the +lights went on. But time and disuse had warped the +doors. They did not quite close, and between them a +golden strip of light showed like a wand. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us see now!" cried Betty. "Let us see," and +again she laughed; and under the cover of her laughter +the three men crept forward and looked in: Moreau upon +his knees, Frobisher stooping above him, Hanaud at his +full height behind them all. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: <i>The Corona Machine</i> +</h3> + +<p> +The detective's hand fell softly upon Frobisher's +shoulder warning him to silence; and this warning +was needed. The lustres of the big glass chandelier were +so many flashing jewels; the mirrors of the girandoles +multiplied their candle-lamps; the small gay room was +ablaze; and in the glare Betty stood and laughed. Her +white shoulders rose from a slim evening frock of black +velvet; from her carefully dressed copper hair to her +black satin shoes she was as trim as if she had just been +unpacked from a bandbox; and she was laughing +whole-heartedly at a closed sack on the divan, a sack which +jerked and flapped grotesquely like a fish on a beach. +Some one was imprisoned within that sack. Jim Frobisher +could not doubt who that some one was, and it +seemed to him that no sound more soulless and cruel had +ever been heard in the world than Betty's merriment. She +threw her head back: Jim could see her slender white +throat working, her shoulders flashing and shaking. She +clapped her hands with a horrible glee. Something died +within Frobisher's breast as he heard it. Was it in his +heart, he wondered? It was, however, to be the last +time that Betty Harlowe laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You can get her out, Francine," she said, and whilst +Francine with a pair of scissors cut the end of the sack +loose, she sat down with her back to it at the writing-table +and unlocked a drawer. The sack was cut away and +thrown upon the floor, and now on the divan Ann Upcott +lay in her gleaming dancing-dress, her hands bound +behind her back, and her ankles tied cruelly together. Her +hair was dishevelled, her face flushed, and she had the +look of one quite dazed. She drew in deep breaths of +air, with her bosom labouring. But she was unaware +for the moment of her predicament or surroundings, and +her eyes rested upon Francine and travelled from her to +Betty's back without a gleam of recognition. She +wrenched a little at her wrists, but even that movement +was instinctive; and then she closed her eyes and lay +still, so still that but for her breathing the watchers at +the door would hardly have believed that she still lived. +</p> + +<p> +Betty, meanwhile, lifted from the open drawer, first a +small bottle half-filled with a pale yellow liquid, and next +a small case of morocco leather. From the case she took +a hypodermic syringe and its needle, and screwed the +two parts together. +</p> + +<p> +"Is she ready?" Betty asked as she removed the stopper +from the bottle. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite, Mademoiselle," answered Francine. She began +with a giggle, but she looked at the prisoner as she spoke +and she ended with a startled gasp. For Ann was looking +straight at her with the strangest, disconcerting stare. +It was impossible to say whether she knew Francine or +knowing her would not admit her knowledge. But her +gaze never faltered, it was actually terrifying by its fixity, +and in a sharp, hysterical voice Francine suddenly cried +out: +</p> + +<p> +"Turn your eyes away from me, will you?" and she +added with a shiver: "It's horrible, Mademoiselle! It's +like a dead person watching you as you move about the +room." +</p> + +<p> +Betty turned curiously towards the divan and Ann's +eyes wandered off to her. It seemed as though it needed +just that interchange of glances to awaken her. For as +Betty resumed her work of filling the hypodermic syringe +from the bottle, a look of perplexity crept into Ann +Upcott's face. She tried to sit up, and finding that she +could not, tore at the cords which bound her wrists. Her +feet kicked upon the divan. A moan of pain broke from +her lips, and with that consciousness returned to her. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty!" she whispered, and Betty turned with the +needle ready in her hand. She did not speak, but her +face spoke for her. Her upper lip was drawn back a +little from her teeth, and there was a look in her great +eyes which appalled Jim Frobisher outside the door. +Once before he had seen just that look—when Betty +was lying on Mrs. Harlowe's bed for Hanaud's experiment +and he had lingered in the treasure-room with Ann +Upcott. It had been inscrutable to him then, but it was +as plain as print now. It meant murder. And so Ann +Upcott understood it. Helpless as she was, she shrank +back upon the divan; in a panic she spoke with faltering +lips and her eyes fixed upon Betty with a dreadful +fascination. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty! You had me taken and brought here! You +sent me to Madame Le Vay's—on purpose. Oh! The +letter, then! The anonymous letter!"—and a new light +broke in upon Ann's mind, a new terror shook her. "You +wrote it! Betty, you! You—the Scourge!" +</p> + +<p> +She sank back and again struggled vainly with her +bonds. Betty rose from her chair and crossed the room +towards her, the needle shining bright in her hand. Her +hapless prisoner saw it. +</p> + +<p> +"What's that?" she cried, and she screamed aloud. +The extremity of her horror lent to her an unnatural +strength. Somehow she dragged herself up and got her +feet to the ground. Somehow she stood upright, swaying +as she stood. +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to——" she began, and broke off. +"Oh, no! You couldn't! You couldn't!" +</p> + +<p> +Betty put out a hand and laid it on Ann's shoulder +and held her so for a moment, savouring her vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +"Whose face was it bending so close down over yours +in the darkness?" she asked in a soft and dreadful voice. +"Whose face, Ann? Guess!" She shook her swaying +prisoner with a gentleness as dreadful as her quiet voice. +"You talk too much. Your tongue's dangerous, Ann. +You are too curious, Ann! What were you doing in the +treasure-room yesterday evening with your watch in your +hand? Eh? Can't you answer, you pretty fool?" Then +Betty's voice changed. It remained low and quiet, but +hatred crept into it, a deep, whole-hearted hatred. +</p> + +<p> +"You have been interfering with me too, haven't you, +Ann? Oh, we both understand very well!" And +Hanaud's hand tightened upon Frobisher's shoulder. +Here was the real key and explanation of Betty's hatred. +Ann Upcott knew too much, was getting to know more, +might at any moment light upon the whole truth. Yes! +Ann Upcott's disappearance would look like a panic-stricken +flight, would have the effect of a confession—no +doubt! But above all these considerations, paramount +in Betty Harlowe's mind was the resolve at once to punish +and rid herself of a rival. +</p> + +<p> +"All this week, you have been thrusting yourself in my +way!" she said. "And here's your reward for it, Ann. +Yes. I had you bound hand and foot and brought here. +The water-lily!" She looked her victim over as she stood +in her delicate bright frock, her white silk stockings and +satin slippers, swaying in terror. "Fifteen minutes, Ann! +That fool of a detective was right! Fifteen minutes! +That's all the time the arrow-poison takes!" +</p> + +<p> +Ann's eyes opened wide. The blood rushed into her +white face and ebbed, leaving it whiter than it was before. +</p> + +<p> +"Arrow-poison!" she cried. "Betty! It was you, then! +Oh!" she would have fallen forward, but Betty Harlowe +pushed her shoulder gently and she fell back upon the +divan. That Betty had been guilty of that last +infamy—the murder of her benefactress—not until this +moment had Ann Upcott for one moment suspected. It was +clear to her, too, that there was not the slightest hope +for her. She burst suddenly into a storm of tears. +</p> + +<p> +Betty Harlowe sat down on the divan beside her and +watched her closely and curiously with a devilish enjoyment. +The sound of the girl's sobbing was music in her +ears. She would not let it flag. +</p> + +<p> +"You shall lie here in the dark all night, Ann, and +alone," she said in a low voice, bending over her, +"To-morrow Espinosa will put you under one of the stone flags +in the kitchen. But to-night you shall lie just as you +are. Come!" +</p> + +<p> +She bent over Ann Upcott, gathering the flesh of her +arm with one hand and advancing the needle with the +other; and a piercing scream burst from Francine Rollard. +</p> + +<p> +"Look!" she cried, and she pointed to the door. It +was open and Hanaud stood upon the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +Betty looked up at the cry and the blood receded from +her face. She sat like an image of wax, staring at the +open doorway, and a moment afterwards with a gesture +swift as lightning she drove the needle into the flesh of +her own arm and emptied it. +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher with a cry of horror started forward to +prevent her, but Hanaud roughly thrust him back. +</p> + +<p> +"I warned you, Monsieur, not to interfere," he said +with a savage note in his voice, which Jim had not heard +before; and Betty Harlowe dropped the needle on to the +couch, whence it rolled to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +She sprang up now to her full height, her heels +together, her arms outstretched from her sides. +</p> + +<p> +"Fifteen minutes, Monsieur Hanaud," she cried with +bravado. "I am safe from you." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed and wagged his forefinger contemptuously +in her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Coloured water, Mademoiselle, doesn't kill." +</p> + +<p> +Betty swayed upon her feet and steadied herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Bluff, Monsieur Hanaud!" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see." +</p> + +<p> +The confidence of his tone convinced her. She flashed +across the room to her writing-table. Swift as she was, +Hanaud met her there. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, no!" he cried. "That's quite a different thing!" He +seized her wrists. "Moreau!" he called, with a nod +towards Francine. "And you, Monsieur Frobisher, will +you release that young lady, if you please!" +</p> + +<p> +Moreau dragged Francine Rollard from the room and +locked her safely away. Jim seized upon the big scissors +and cut the cords about Ann's wrists and ankles, and +unwound them. He was aware that Hanaud had flung the +chair from the writing-table into an open space, that +Betty was struggling and then was still, that Hanaud had +forced her into the chair and snatched up one of the cords +which Frobisher had dropped upon the floor. When he +had finished his work, he saw that Betty was sitting with +her hands in handcuffs and her ankles tied to one of the +legs of the chair; and Hanaud was staunching with his +handkerchief a wound in his hand which bled. Betty had +bitten him like a wild animal caught in a trap. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you warned me, Mademoiselle, the first morning +I met you," Hanaud said with a savage irony, "that you +didn't wear a wrist-watch, because you hated things on +your wrists. My apologies! I had forgotten!" +</p> + +<p> +He went back to the writing-table and thrust his hand +into the drawer. He drew out a small cardboard box +and removed the lid. +</p> + +<p> +"Five!" he said. "Yes! Five!" +</p> + +<p> +He carried the box across the room to Frobisher, who +was standing against the wall with a face like death. +</p> + +<p> +"Look!" +</p> + +<p> +There were five white tablets in the box. +</p> + +<p> +"We know where the sixth is. Or, rather, we know +where it was. For I had it analysed to-day. Cyanide +of potassium, my friend! Crunch one of them between +your teeth and—fifteen minutes? Not a bit of it! A +fraction of a second! That's all!" +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher leaned forward and whispered in Hanaud's +ear. "Leave them within her reach!" +</p> + +<p> +His first instinctive thought had been to hinder Betty +from destroying herself. Now he prayed that she might, +and with so desperate a longing that a deep pity softened +Hanaud's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I must not, Monsieur," he said gently. He turned to +Moreau. "There is a cab waiting at the corner of the +Maison Crenelle," and Moreau went in search of it. +Hanaud went over to Ann Upcott, who was sitting upon +the divan her head bowed, her body shivering. Every +now and then she handled and eased one of her tortured +wrists. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle," he said, standing in front of her, "I +owe you an explanation and an apology. I never from +the beginning—no, not for one moment—believed that +you were guilty of the murder of Madame Harlowe. I +was sure that you had never touched the necklace of pink +pearls—oh, at once I was sure, long before I found it. +I believed every word of the story you told us in the +garden. But none of this dared I shew you. For only +by pretending that I was convinced of your guilt, could I +protect you during this last week in the Maison Crenelle." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Monsieur," she replied with a wan effort +at a smile. +</p> + +<p> +"But, for to-night, I owe you an apology," he +continued. "I make it with shame. That you were to be +brought back here to the tender mercies of Mademoiselle +Betty, I hadn't a doubt. And I was here to make sure +you should be spared them. But I have never in my life +had a more difficult case to deal with, so clear a conviction +in my own mind, so little proof to put before a court. I +had to have the evidence which I was certain to find in +this room to-night. But I ask you to believe me that if +I had imagined for a moment the cruelty with which +you were to be handled, I should have sacrificed this +evidence. I beg you to forgive me." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott held out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Hanaud," she replied simply, "but for you +I should not be now alive. I should be lying here in the +dark and alone, as it was promised to me, waiting for +Espinosa—and his spade." Her voice broke and she +shuddered violently so that the divan shook on which she +sat. +</p> + +<p> +"You must forget these miseries," he said gently. +"You have youth, as I told you once before. A little +time and——" +</p> + +<p> +The return of Nicolas Moreau interrupted him; and +with Moreau came a couple of gendarmes and Girardot +the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +"You have Francine Rollard?" Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"You can hear her," Moreau returned dryly. +</p> + +<p> +In the corridor a commotion arose, the scuffling of +feet and a woman's voice screaming abuse. It died +away. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle here will not give you so much trouble," +said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +Betty was sitting huddled in her chair, her face averted +and sullen, her lips muttering inaudible words. She had +not once looked at Jim Frobisher since he had entered +the room; nor did she now. +</p> + +<p> +Moreau stooped and untied her ankles and a big gendarme +raised her up. But her knees failed beneath her; +she could not stand; her strength and her spirit had left +her. The gendarme picked her up as if she had been a +child; and as he moved to the door, Jim Frobisher planted +himself in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" he cried, and his voice was strong and +resonant. "Monsieur Hanaud, you have said just now +that you believed every word of Mademoiselle Ann's +story." +</p> + +<p> +"It is true." +</p> + +<p> +"You believe then that Madame Harlowe was murdered +at half-past ten on the night of the 27th of April. +And at half-past ten Mademoiselle here was at Monsieur +de Pouillac's ball! You will set her free." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud did not argue the point. +</p> + +<p> +"And what of to-night?" he asked. "Stand aside, if +you please!" +</p> + +<p> +Jim held his ground for a moment or two, and then +drew aside. He stood with his eyes closed, and such a +look of misery upon his face as Betty was carried out +that Hanaud attempted some clumsy word of condolence: +</p> + +<p> +"This has been a bitter experience for you, Monsieur +Frobisher," he began. +</p> + +<p> +"Would that you had taken me into your confidence at +the first!" Jim cried volubly. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you have believed me if I had?" asked +Hanaud, and Jim was silent. "As it was, Monsieur +Frobisher, I took a grave risk which I know now I +had not the right to take and I told you more than you +think." +</p> + +<p> +He turned away towards Moreau. +</p> + +<p> +"Lock the courtyard doors and the door of the house +after they have gone and bring the keys here to me." +</p> + +<p> +Girardot had made a bundle of the solution, the hypodermic +syringe, the tablets of cyanide, and the pieces of +cord. +</p> + +<p> +"There is something here of importance," Hanaud +observed and, stooping at the writing-table, he picked up +a square, flat-topped black case. "You will recognise +this," he remarked to Jim as he handed it to Girardot. +It was the case of a Corona typewriting machine; and +from its weight, the machine itself was clearly within +the case. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Hanaud explained, as the door closed upon the +Commissary. "This pretty room is the factory where all +those abominable letters were prepared. Here the +information was filed away for use; here the letters were +typed; from here they were issued." +</p> + +<p> +"Blackmailing letters!" cried Jim. "Letters demanding +money!" +</p> + +<p> +"Some of them," answered Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"But Betty Harlowe had money. All that she needed, +and more if she chose to ask for it." +</p> + +<p> +"All that she needed? No," answered Hanaud with +a shake of the head. "The blackmailer never has enough +money. For no one is so blackmailed." +</p> + +<p> +A sudden and irrational fury seized upon Frobisher. +They had agreed, he and Hanaud, that there was a gang +involved in all these crimes. It might be that Betty was +of them, yes, even led them, but were they all to go +scot-free? +</p> + +<p> +"There are others," he exclaimed. "The man who rode +this motor-cycle——" +</p> + +<p> +"Young Espinosa," replied Hanaud. "Did you notice +his accent when you stopped at the fork of the roads in +the Val Terzon? He did not mount his cycle again. No!" +</p> + +<p> +"And the man who carried in the—the sack?" +</p> + +<p> +"Maurice Thevenet," said Hanaud. "That promising +young novice. He is now at the Depot. He will never +get that good word from me which was to unlock Paris +for him." +</p> + +<p> +"And Espinosa himself—who was to come here +to-morrow——" he stopped abruptly with his eyes on Ann. +</p> + +<p> +"And who murdered Jean Cladel, eh?" Hanaud went +on. "A fool that fellow! Why use the Catalan's knife +in the Catalan's way?" Hanaud looked at his watch. "It +is over. No doubt Espinosa is under lock and key by +now. And there are others, Monsieur, of whom you +have never heard. The net has been cast wide to-night. +Have no fear of that!" +</p> + +<p> +Moreau returned with the keys and handed them to +Hanaud. Hanaud put them into a pocket and went over +to Ann Upcott. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, I shall not trouble you with any +questions to-night. To-morrow you will tell me why you +went to Madame Le Vay's ball. It was given out that +you meant to run away. That, of course, was not true. +You shall give me the real reason to-morrow and an +account of what happened to you there." +</p> + +<p> +Ann shivered at the memories of that night, but she +answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I will tell you everything." +</p> + +<p> +"Good. Then we can go," said Hanaud cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Go?" Ann Upcott asked in wonderment. "But you +have had us all locked in." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed. He had a little surprise to spring on +the girl, and he loved surprises so long as they were of +his own contriving. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Frobisher, I think, must have guessed the +truth. This house, Mademoiselle, the Hôtel de Brebizart +is very close, as the crow flies, to the Maison Crenelle. +There is one row of houses, the houses of the street of +Charles-Robert, between. It was built by Etienne +Bouchart de Crenelle, President of the Parliament during +the reign of Louis the Fifteenth, a very dignified and +important figure; and he built it, Mademoiselle—this is the +point—at the same time that he built the Maison Crenelle. +Having built it, he installed in it a joyous lady of the +province from which it takes its name—Madame de +Brebizart. There was no scandal. For the President +never came visiting Madame de Brebizart. And for the +best of reasons. Between this house and the Maison +Crenelle he had constructed a secret passage in that age +of secret passages." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher was startled. Hanaud had given credit to +him for an astuteness which he did not possess. He had +been occupied heart and brain by the events of the +evening, so rapidly had they followed one upon the other, +so little time had they allowed for speculations. +</p> + +<p> +"How in the world did you discover this?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"You shall know in due time. For the moment let us +content ourselves with the facts," Hanaud continued. +"After the death of Etienne de Crenelle, at some period +or another the secret of this passage was lost. It is clear, +too, I think that it fell into disrepair and became blocked. +At all events at the end of the eighteenth century, the +Hôtel de Brebizart passed into other hands than those of +the owner of the Maison Crenelle. Simon Harlowe, however, +discovered the secret. He bought back the Hôtel de +Brebizart, restored the passage and put it to the same use +as old Etienne de Crenelle had done. For here Madame +Raviart came to live during the years before the death +of her husband set her free to marry Simon. There! +My little lecture is over. Let us go!" +</p> + +<p> +He bowed low to Ann like a lecturer to his audience +and unlatched the double doors of the big buhl cabinet +in the recess of the wall. A cry of surprise broke from +Ann, who had risen unsteadily to her feet. The cabinet +was quite empty. There was not so much as a shelf, and +all could see that the floor of it was tilted up against one +end and that a flight of steps ran downwards in the +thickness of the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"Come," said Hanaud, producing his electric torch. +"Will you take this, Monsieur Frobisher, and go first +with Mademoiselle. I will turn out the lights and +follow." +</p> + +<p> +But Ann with a little frown upon her forehead drew +sharply back. She put a hand to Hanaud's sleeve and +steadied herself by it. "I will come with you," she said. +"I am not very steady on my legs." +</p> + +<p> +She laughed her action off but both men understood it. +Jim Frobisher had thought her guilty—guilty of theft +and murder. She shrank from him to the man who had +had no doubt that she was innocent. And even that was +not all. She was wounded by Jim's distrust more deeply +than any one else could have wounded her. Frobisher +inclined his head in acknowledgment and, pressing the +button of the torch, descended five or six of the narrow +steps. Moreau followed him. +</p> + +<p> +"You are ready, Mademoiselle? So!" said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +He put an arm about her to steady her and pressed up +a switch by the open doors of the cabinet. The room +was plunged in darkness. Guided by the beam of light, +they followed Frobisher on to the steps. Hanaud closed +the doors of the cabinet and fastened them together with +the bolts. +</p> + +<p> +"Forward," he cried, "and you, Mademoiselle, be +careful of your heels on these stone steps." +</p> + +<p> +When his head was just below the level of the first +step he called upon Frobisher to halt and raise the torch. +Then he slid the floor board of the cabinet back into its +place. Beneath this a trap-door hung downwards. +Hanaud raised it and bolted it in place. +</p> + +<p> +"We can go on." +</p> + +<p> +Ten more steps brought them to a tiny vaulted hall. +From that a passage, bricked and paved, led into darkness. +Frobisher led the way along the passage until the +foot of another flight of steps was reached. +</p> + +<p> +"Where do these steps lead, my friend?" Hanaud asked +of Frobisher, his voice sounding with a strange +hollowness in that tunnel. "You shall tell me." +</p> + +<p> +Jim, with memories of that night when he and Ann and +Betty had sat in the dark of the perfumed garden and +Ann's eyes had searched this way and that amidst the +gloom of the sycamores, answered promptly: +</p> + +<p> +"Into the garden of the Maison Crenelle." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +"And you, Mademoiselle, what do you say?" +</p> + +<p> +Ann's face clouded over. +</p> + +<p> +"I know now," she said gravely. Then she shivered +and drew her cloak slowly about her shoulders. "Let us +go up and see!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud took the lead. He lowered a trap-door at the +top of the steps, touched a spring and slid back a panel. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait," said he, and he sprang out and turned on a +light. +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott, Jim Frobisher and Moreau climbed out of +Simon Harlowe's Sedan chair into the treasure room. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: <i>The Truth<br /> +About the Clock on the Marquetry Cabinet</i> +</h3> + +<p> +To the amazement of them all Moreau began to +laugh. Up till now he had been alert, competent +and without expression. Stolidity had been the mark +of him. And now he laughed in great gusts, holding his +sides and then wringing his hands, as though the humour +of things was altogether unbearable. Once or twice he +tried to speak, but laughter leapt upon the words and +drowned them. +</p> + +<p> +"What in the world is the matter with you, Nicolas?" +Hanaud asked. +</p> + +<p> +"But I beg your pardon," Moreau stammered, and +again merriment seized and mastered him. At last two +intelligible words were heard. "We, Girardot," he cried, +settling an imaginary pair of glasses on the bridge of +his nose, and went off into a fit. Gradually the reason +of his paroxysms was explained in broken phrases. +</p> + +<p> +"We, Girardot!—We fix the seals upon the doors—And +all the time there is a way in and out under our +nose! These rooms must not be disturbed—No! The +great Monsieur Hanaud is coming from Paris to look +at them. So we seal them tight, we, Girardot. My God! but +we, Girardot look the fool! So careful and pompous +with our linen bands! We, Girardot shall make the +laughter at the Assize Court! Yes, yes, yes! I think, +we, Girardot shall hand in our resignation before the trial +is over?" +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps Moreau's humour was a little too professional +for his audience. Perhaps, too, the circumstances of that +night had dulled their appreciation; certainly Moreau had +all the laughter to himself. Jim Frobisher was driven to +the little Louis Quinze clock upon the marquetry cabinet. +He never could for a moment forget it. So much hung +for Betty Harlowe upon its existence. Whatever wild +words she might have used to-night, there was the +incontrovertible testimony of the clock to prove that she had +had no hand whatever in the murder of Mrs. Harlowe. +He drew his own watch from his pocket and compared it +with the clock. +</p> + +<p> +"It is exact to the minute," he declared with a little +accent of triumph. "It is now twenty-three minutes past +one——" and suddenly Hanaud was at his side with a +curious air of alertness. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it so?" he asked, and he too made sure by a +comparison with his own watch that Frobisher's statement +was correct. "Yes. Twenty-three minutes past one. +That is very fortunate." +</p> + +<p> +He called Ann Upcott and Moreau to him and they all +now stood grouped about the cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +"The key to the mystery about this clock," he remarked, +"is to be found in the words which Mademoiselle Ann +used, when the seals were removed from the doors and +she saw this clock again, in the light of day. She was +perplexed. Isn't that so, Mademoiselle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Ann returned. "It seemed to me—it seems +to me still—that the clock was somehow placed higher +than it actually is——" +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. Let us put it to the test!" +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the clock and saw that the hands now +reached twenty-six minutes past one. +</p> + +<p> +"I will ask you all to go out of this room and wait in +the hall in the dark. For it was in the dark, you will +remember, that Mademoiselle descended the stairs. I +shall turn the lights out here and call you in. When I +do, Mademoiselle will switch the lights on and off swiftly, +just as she did it on the night of the 27th of April. Then +I think all will be clear to you." +</p> + +<p> +He crossed to the door leading into the hall, and found +it locked with the key upon the inside. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," he said, "when the passage is used to +the Hôtel de Brebizart, this door would be locked." +</p> + +<p> +He turned the key and drew the door towards him. +The hall gaped before them black and silent. Hanaud +stood aside. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please!" +</p> + +<p> +Moreau and Frobisher went out; Ann Upcott hesitated +and cast a look of appeal towards Hanaud. Her perplexities +were to be set at rest. She did not doubt that. This +man had saved her from death when it seemed that nothing +could save her. Her trust in him was absolute. But +her perplexities were unimportant. Some stroke was to +be delivered upon Betty Harlowe from which there could +be no recovery. Ann Upcott was not a good hater of +Betty's stamp. She shrank from the thought that it was +to be her hand which would deliver that stroke. +</p> + +<p> +"Courage, Mademoiselle!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud exhorted her with a friendly smile and Ann +joined the others in the dark hall. Hanaud closed the +door upon them and returned to the clock. It was +twenty-eight minutes past one. +</p> + +<p> +"I have two minutes," he said to himself. "That will +just do if I am quick." +</p> + +<p> +Outside the three witnesses waited in the darkness. +One of the three shivered suddenly so that her teeth +rattled in her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"Ann," Jim Frobisher whispered and he put his hand +within her arm. Ann Upcott had come to the end of +her strength. She clung to his hand spasmodically. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim!" she answered under her breath. "Oh, but you +were cruel to me!" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's voice called to them from within the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Come!" +</p> + +<p> +Ann stepped forward, felt for and found the handle. +She threw open the door with a nervous violence. The +treasure-room was pitch dark like the hall. Ann stepped +through the doorway and her fingers reached for the +switch. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," she warned them in a voice which shook. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the treasure-room blazed with light; as +suddenly it was black again; and in the darkness rose a +clamour of voices. +</p> + +<p> +"Half-past ten! I saw the hour!" cried Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"And again the clock was higher!" exclaimed Ann. +</p> + +<p> +"That is true," Moreau agreed. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud's voice, from the far corner of the room, +joined in. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that exactly what you saw, Mademoiselle, on the +night of the twenty-seventh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"Then turn on the lights again and know the truth!" +</p> + +<p> +The injunction was uttered in tones so grave that it +sounded like a knell. For a second or two Ann's fingers +refused their service. Once more the conviction forced +itself into her mind. Some irretrievable calamity waited +upon the movement of her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Courage, Mademoiselle!" +</p> + +<p> +Again the lights shone, and this time they remained +burning. The three witnesses advanced into the room, +and as they looked again, from close at hand and with +a longer gaze, a cry of surprise broke from all of them. +</p> + +<p> +There was no clock upon the marquetry cabinet at all. +</p> + +<p> +But high above it in the long mirror before which it +stood there was the reflection of a clock, its white face so +clear and bright that even now it was difficult to disbelieve +that this was the clock itself. And the position of +the hands gave the hour as precisely half-past ten. +</p> + +<p> +"Now turn about and see!" said Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +The clock itself stood upon the shelf of the Adam +mantelpiece and there staring at them, the true hour was +marked. It was exactly half-past one; the long minute +hand pointing to six, the shorter hour hand on the right-hand +side of the figure twelve, half-way between the one +and the two. With a simultaneous movement they all +turned again to the mirror; and the mystery was +explained. The shorter hour-hand seen in the mirror was +on the left-hand side of the figure twelve, and just where +it would have been if the hour had been half-past ten and +the clock actually where its reflection was. The figures +on the dial were reversed and difficult at a first glance to +read. +</p> + +<p> +"You see," Hanaud explained, "it is the law of nature +to save itself from effort even in the smallest things. We +live with clocks and watches. They are as customary as +our daily bread. And with the instinct to save ourselves +from effort, we take our time from the position of the +hands. We take the actual figures of the hours for +granted. Mademoiselle comes out of the dark. In the +one swift flash of light she sees the hands upon the clock's +face. Half-past ten! She herself, you will remember, +Monsieur Frobisher, was surprised that the hour was +so early. She was cold, as though she had slept long in +her arm-chair. She had the impression that she had slept +long. And Mademoiselle was right. For the time was +half-past one, and Betty Harlowe had been twenty +minutes home from Monsieur de Pouillac's ball." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud ended with a note of triumph in his voice +which exasperated Frobisher. +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't you going a little too fast?" he asked. "When +the seals were removed and we entered this room for the +first time, the clock was not upon the mantelshelf but +upon the marquetry cabinet." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle Upcott told us her story before +luncheon. We entered this room after luncheon. +During the luncheon hours the position of the clock was +changed." He pointed to the Sedan chair. "You know +now with what ease that could be done." +</p> + +<p> +"'Could, could!'" Frobisher repeated impatiently. "It +doesn't follow that it was done." +</p> + +<p> +"That is true," Hanaud replied. "So I will answer +now one of the questions in your memorandum. What +was it that I saw from the top of the Terrace Tower? +I saw the smoke rising from this chimney into the air. +Oh, Monsieur, I had paid attention to this house, its +windows, and its doors, and its chimney-stacks. And +there at midday, in all the warmth of late May, the +smoke was rising from the chimney of the sealed room. +There was an entrance then of which we knew nothing! +And somebody had just made use of it. Who? Ask +yourself that! Who went straight out from the Maison +Crenelle the moment I had gone, and went alone? That +clock had to be changed. Apparently some letters also +had to be burnt." +</p> + +<p> +Jim hardly heard the last sentence. The clock still +occupied his thoughts. His great argument had been +riddled; his one dream of establishing Betty's innocence +in despite of every presumption and fact which could be +brought against her had been dispelled. He dropped on +to a chair. +</p> + +<p> +"You understood it all so quickly," he said with bitterness. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I was not quick!" Hanaud answered. "Ascribe +to me no gifts out of the ordinary run, Monsieur. I am +trained—that is all. I have been my twenty minutes in +the bull-ring. Listen how it came about!" He looked +at Frobisher with a comical smile. "It is a pity our eager +young friend, Maurice Thevenet, is not here to profit by +the lesson. First of all, then! I knew that Mademoiselle +Betty was here doing something of great importance. It +may be only burning those letters in the hearth. It may +be more. I must wait and see. Good! There, standing +before the mirror, Mademoiselle Ann makes her little +remark that the clock seemed higher. Do I understand +yet? No, no! But I am interested. Then I notice a +curious thing, a beautiful specimen of Benvenuto Cellini's +work set up high and flat on that mantelshelf where no +one can see it. So I take it down, and I carry it to the +window, and I admire it very much and I carry it back +to the mantelshelf; and then I notice four little marks +upon the wood which had been concealed by the flat case +of the jewel; and those four little marks are just the +marks which the feet of that very pretty Louis Quinze +clock might have made, had it stood regularly there—in +its natural place. Yes, and the top of that marquetry +cabinet so much lower than the mantelshelf is too the +natural place for the Cellini jewel. Every one can see it +there. So I say to myself: 'My good Hanaud, this young +lady has been rearranging her ornaments.' But do I +guess why? No, my friend. I told you once, and I tell +you again very humbly, that we are the servants of +Chance. Chance is a good mistress if her servants do not +go to sleep; and she treated me well that afternoon. See! +I am standing in the hall, in great trouble about this case. +For nothing leads me anywhere. There is a big +old-fashioned barometer like a frying-pan on the wall behind +me and a mirror on the opposite wall in front of me. I +raise my eyes from the floor and by chance I see in the +mirror the barometer behind me. By chance my attention +is arrested. For I see that the indicator in the +barometer points to stormy weather—which is ridiculous. +I turn me about so. It is to fine weather that the +indicator points. And in a flash I see. I look at the +position of the hand without looking at the letters. If I look +the barometer in the face the hand points to the fair +weather. If I turn my back and look into the mirror the +hand points to the stormy weather. Now indeed I have +it! I run into the treasure-room. I lock the door, for I +do not wish to be caught. I do not move the clock. No, +no, for nothing in the world will I move that clock. But +I take out my watch. I face the mirror. I hold my watch +facing the mirror, I open the glass and I move the hands +until in the mirror they seem to mark half-past ten. +Then I look at my watch itself. It is half-past one. So +now I know! Do I want more proof? Monsieur, I get +it. For as I unlock the door and open it again, there is +Mademoiselle Betty face to face with me! That young +girl! Even though already I suspect her I get a shock, +I can tell you. The good God knows that I am hardened +enough against surprises. But for a moment the mask +had slipped from her face. I felt a trickle of ice down +my spine. For out of her beautiful great eyes murder +looked." +</p> + +<p> +He stood held in a spell by the memory of that fierce +look. "Ugh," he grunted; and he shook himself like +a great dog coming up out of the water. +</p> + +<p> +"But you are talking too much, Monsieur Frobisher," +he cried in a different voice, "and you are keeping +Mademoiselle from her bed, where she should have been an +hour ago. Come!" +</p> + +<p> +He drove his companions out into the hall, turned on +the lights, locked the door of the treasure-room and +pocketed the key. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, we will leave these lights burning," +he said gently to Ann, "and Moreau will keep watch in +the house. You have nothing to fear. He will not be +far from your door. Good night." +</p> + +<p> +Ann gave him her hand with a wan smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall thank you to-morrow," she said, and she +mounted the stairs slowly, her feet dragging, her body +swaying with her fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud watched her go. Then he turned to Frobisher +with a whimsical smile. +</p> + +<p> +"What a pity!" he said. "You—she! No? After +all, perhaps——" and he broke off hurriedly. Frobisher +was growing red and beginning to look "proper"; and the +last thing which Hanaud wished to do was to offend him +in this particular. +</p> + +<p> +"I make my apologies," he said. "I am impertinent +and a gossip. If I err, it is because I wish you very +well. You understand that? Good! Then a further +proof. To-morrow Mademoiselle will tell us what +happened to her to-night, how she came to go to the house +of Madame Le Vay—everything. I wish you to be present. +You shall know everything. I shall tell you myself +step by step, how my conclusions were reached. All your +questions shall be answered. I shall give you every help, +every opportunity. I shall see to it that you are not even +called as a witness of what you have seen to-night. And +when all is over, Monsieur, you will see with me that +whatever there may be of pain and distress, the Law must +take its course." +</p> + +<p> +It was a new Hanaud whom Frobisher was contemplating +now. The tricks, the Gasconnades, the buffooneries +had gone. He did not even triumph. A dignity +shone out of the man like a strong light, and with it he +was gentle and considerate. +</p> + +<p> +"Good night, Monsieur!" he said, and bowed; and Jim +on an impulse thrust out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Good night!" he returned. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud took it with a smile of recognition and went +away. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher locked the front door and with a sense +of desolation turned back to the hall. He heard the big +iron gates swing to. They had been left open, of course, +he recognised, in the usual way when one of the household +was going to be late. Yes, everything had been +planned with the care of a commander planning a battle. +Here in this house, the servants were all tucked up in +their beds. But for Hanaud, Betty Harlowe might at +this very moment have been stealing up these stairs +noiselessly to her own room, her dreadful work accomplished. +The servants would have waked to-morrow to the knowledge +that Ann Upcott had fled rather than face a trial. +Sometime in the evening, Espinosa would have called, +would have been received in the treasure-room, would +have found the spade waiting for him in the great +stone-vaulted kitchen of the Hôtel de Brebizart. Oh, yes, all +dangers had been foreseen—except Hanaud. Nay, even +he in a measure had been foreseen! For a panic-stricken +telegram had reached Frobisher and Haslitt before +Hanaud had started upon his work. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be on the stairs, Monsieur, below Mademoiselle's +door, if you should want me," said Moreau. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher roused himself from his reflections. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," he answered, and he went up the stairs +to his room. A lot of use to Betty that telegram had +been, he reflected bitterly! "Where was she to-night?" +he asked, and shut up his mind against the question. +</p> + +<p> +He was to know that it was precisely that panic-stricken +telegram and nothing else which had brought Betty +Harlowe's plans crashing about her ears. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: <i>Ann Upcott's Story</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Early the next morning Hanaud rang up the Maison +Crenelle and made his appointment for the afternoon. +Jim accordingly spent the morning with Monsieur +Bex, who was quite overwhelmed with the story which +was told to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Prisoners have their rights nowadays," he said. +"They can claim the presence of their legal adviser when +they are being examined by the Judge. I will go round +at once to the Prefecture"; with his head erect and his +little chest puffed out like a bantam cock, he hurried to +do battle for his client. There was no battle to be waged, +however. Certainly Monsieur Bex's unhappy client was +for the moment <i>au secret</i>. She would not come before +the Judge for a couple of days. It was the turn of +Francine Rollard. Every opportunity was to be given to the +defence, and Monsieur Bex would certainly be granted an +interview with Betty Harlowe, if she so wished, before +she was brought up in the Judge's office. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Bex returned to the Place Etienne Dolet +to find Jim Frobisher restlessly pacing his office. Jim +looked up eagerly, but Monsieur Bex had no words of +comfort. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't like it!" he cried. "It displeases me. I am +not happy. They are all very polite—yes. But they +examine the maid first. That's bad, I tell you," and he +tapped upon the table. "That is Hanaud. He knows +his affair. The servants. They can be made to talk, and +this Francine Rollard——" He shook his head. "I shall +get the best advocate in France." +</p> + +<p> +Jim left him to his work and returned to the Maison +Crenelle. It was obvious that nothing of these new and +terrible developments of the "Affaire Waberski" had yet +leaked out. There was not a whisper of it in the streets, +not a loiterer about the gates of the Maison Crenelle. +The "Affaire Waberski" had, in the general view, become +a stale joke. Jim sent up word to Ann Upcott in her +room that he was removing his luggage to the hotel in +the Place Darcy, and leaving the house to her where he +prayed her to remain. Even at that moment Ann's lips +twitched a little with humour as she read the +embarrassed note. +</p> + +<p> +"He is very correct, as Monsieur Bex would say," +she reflected, "and proper enough to make every nerve +of Monsieur Hanaud thrill with delight." +</p> + +<p> +Jim returned in the afternoon and once more in the +shade of the sycamores whilst the sunlight dappled the +lawn and the bees hummed amongst the roses, Ann +Upcott told a story of terror and darkness, though to a +smaller audience. Certain additions were made to the +story by Hanaud. +</p> + +<p> +"I should never have dreamed of going to Madame +Le Vay's Ball," she began, "except for the anonymous +letter," and Hanaud leaned forward alertly. +</p> + +<p> +The anonymous letter had arrived whilst she, Betty +and Jim Frobisher were sitting at dinner. It had been +posted therefore in the middle of the day and very soon +after Ann had told her first story in the garden. Ann +opened the envelope expecting a bill, and was amazed +and a little terrified to read the signature, "The +Scourge." She was more annoyed than ever when she read the +contents, but her terror had decreased. "The Scourge" bade +her attend the Ball. He gave her explicit instructions +that she should leave the ball-room at half-past ten, follow +a particular corridor leading to a wing away from the +reception-rooms, and hide behind the curtains in a small +library. If she kept very still she would overhear in a +little while the truth about the death of Mrs. Harlowe. +She was warned to tell no one of her plan. +</p> + +<p> +"I told no one then," Ann declared. "I thought the +letter just a malicious joke quite in accord with 'The +Scourge's' character. I put it back into its envelope. But +I couldn't forget it. Suppose that by any chance there +was something in it—and I didn't go! Why should 'The +Scourge' play a trick on me, who had no money and was +of no importance? And all the while the sort of hope +which no amount of reasoning can crush, kept growing +and growing!" +</p> + +<p> +After dinner Ann took the letter up to her sitting-room +and believed it and scorned herself for believing it, +and believed it again. That afternoon she had almost +felt the handcuffs on her wrists. There was no chance +which she ought to refuse of clearing herself from +suspicion, however wild it seemed! +</p> + +<p> +Ann made up her mind to consult Betty, and ran down +to the treasure-room, which was lit up but empty. It +was half-past nine o'clock. Ann determined to wait for +Betty's return, and was once more perplexed by the low +position of the clock upon the marquetry cabinet. She +stood in front of it, staring at it. She took her own +watch in her hand, with a sort of vague idea that it +might help her. And indeed it was very likely to. Had +she turned its dial to the mirror behind the clock, the +truth would have leapt at her. But she had not the time. +For a slight movement in the room behind her arrested +her attention. +</p> + +<p> +She turned abruptly. The room was empty. Yet without +doubt it was from within the room that the faint +noise had come. And there was only one place from +which it could have come. Some one was hiding within +the elaborate Sedan chair with its shining grey panels, +its delicate gold beading. Ann was uneasy rather than +frightened. Her first thought was to ring the bell by the +fire-place—she could do that well out of view of the +Sedan chair—and carry on until Gaston answered it. +There were treasures enough in the room to repay a hundred +thieves. Then, without arguing at all, she took the +bolder line. She went quietly towards the chair, advancing +from the back, and then with a rush planted herself +in front of the glass doors. +</p> + +<p> +She started back with a cry of surprise. The rail in +front of the doors was down, the doors were open, and +leaning back upon the billowy cushions sat Betty Harlowe. +She sat quite still, still as an image even after +Ann had appeared and uttered a cry of surprise; but she +was not asleep. Her great eyes were blazing steadily out +of the darkness of the chair in a way which gave Ann a +curious shock. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been watching you," said Betty very slowly; +and if ever there had been a chance that she would relent, +that chance was gone for ever now. She had come up +out of the secret passage to find Ann playing with her +watch in front of the mirror, seeking for an explanation +of the doubt which troubled her and so near to it—so +very near to it! Ann heard her own death sentence +pronounced in those words, "I have been watching you." And +though she did not understand the menace they conveyed, +there was something in the slow, steady utterance +of them which a little unnerved her. +</p> + +<p> +"Betty," she cried, "I want your advice." +</p> + +<p> +Betty came out of the chair and took the anonymous +letter from her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Ought I to go?" Ann Upcott asked. +</p> + +<p> +"It's your affair," Betty replied. "In your place I +should. I shouldn't hesitate. No one knows yet that +there's any suspicion upon you." +</p> + +<p> +Ann put forward her objection. To go from this house +of mourning might appear an outrage. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not a relation," Betty argued. "You can go +privately, just before the time. I have no doubt we can +arrange it all. But of course it's your affair." +</p> + +<p> +"Why should the Scourge help me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't suppose that he is, except indirectly," Betty +reasoned. "I imagine that he's attacking other people, +and using you." She read through the letter again. "He +has always been right, hasn't he? That's what would +determine me in your place. But I don't want to interfere." +</p> + +<p> +Ann spun round on her heel. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well. I shall go." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I should destroy that letter"; and she made as +if to tear it. +</p> + +<p> +"No!" cried Ann, and she held out her hand for it +"I don't know Madame Le Vay's house very well. I +might easily lose my way without the instructions. I +must take it with me." +</p> + +<p> +Betty agreed and handed the letter back. +</p> + +<p> +"You want to go quite quietly," she said, and she threw +herself heart and soul into the necessary arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +She would give Francine Rollard a holiday and herself +help Ann to dress in her fanciful and glistening frock. +She wrote a letter to Michel Le Vay, Madame Le Vay's +second son and one of Betty's most indefatigable +courtiers. Fortunately for himself, Michel Le Vay kept that +letter, and it saved him from any charge of complicity +in her plot. For Betty used to him the same argument +which had persuaded Jim Frobisher. She wrote frankly +that suspicion had centred upon Ann Upcott and that it +was necessary that she should get away secretly. +</p> + +<p> +"All the plans have been made, Michel," she wrote. +"Ann will come late. She is to meet the friends who will +help her—it is best that you should know as little as +possible about them—in the little library. If you will keep +the corridor clear for a little while, they can get out by +the library doors into the park and be in Paris the next +morning." +</p> + +<p> +She sealed up this letter without showing it to Ann +and said, "I will send this by a messenger to-morrow +morning, with orders to deliver it into Michel's own +hands. Now how are you to go?" +</p> + +<p> +Over that point the two girls had some discussion. +It would be inviting Hanaud's interference if the big +limousine were ordered out. What more likely than that +he should imagine Ann meant to run away and that +Betty was helping her? That plan certainly would +not do. +</p> + +<p> +"I know," Betty cried. "Jeanne Leclerc shall call +for you. You will be ready to slip out. She shall stop +her car for a second outside the gates. It will be quite +dark. You'll be away in a flash." +</p> + +<p> +"Jeanne Leclerc!" Ann exclaimed, drawing back. +</p> + +<p> +It had always perplexed Ann that Betty, so exquisite +and fastidious in her own looks and bearing, should have +found her friends amongst the flamboyant and the cheap. +But she would rather throne it amongst her inferiors +than take her place amongst her equals. Under her +reserved demeanour she was insatiable of recognition. +The desire to be courted, admired, looked up to as a +leader and a chief, burned within her like a raging flame. +Jeanne Leclerc was of her company of satellites—a big, +red-haired woman of excessive manners, not without +good looks of a kind, and certainly received in the society +of the town. Ann Upcott not merely disliked, but +distrusted her. She had a feeling that there was something +indefinably wrong in her very nature. +</p> + +<p> +"She will do anything for me, Ann," said Betty. +"That's why I named her. I know that she is going to +Madame Le Vay's dance." +</p> + +<p> +Ann Upcott gave in, and a second letter was written to +Jeanne Leclerc. This second letter asked Jeanne to call +at the Maison Crenelle at an early hour in the morning; +and Jeanne Leclerc came and was closeted with Betty for +an hour between nine and ten. Thus all the arrangements +were made. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this point that Frobisher interrupted Hanaud's +explanations. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said. "There remain Espinosa and the young +brother to be accounted for." +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle has just told us that she heard a slight +noise in the treasure-room and found Betty Harlowe +seated in the Sedan chair," Hanaud replied. "Betty +Harlowe had just returned from the Hôtel de Brebizart, +whither Espinosa went that night after it had grown dark +and about the time when dinner was over in the Maison +Crenelle.... From the Hôtel de Brebizart Espinosa +went to the Rue Gambetta and waited for Jean Cladel. It +was a busy night, that one, my friends. That old wolf, +the Law, was sniffing at the bottom of the door. They +could hear him. They had no time to waste!" +</p> + +<p> +The next night came. Dinner was very late, Jim +remembered. It was because Betty was helping Ann to +dress, Francine having been given her holiday. Jim and +Betty dined alone, and whilst they dined Ann Upcott +stole downstairs, a cloak of white ermine hiding her +pretty dress. She held the front door a little open, and +the moment Jeanne Leclerc's car stopped before the gates, +she flashed across the courtyard. Jeanne had the door of +her car open. It had hardly stopped before it went on +again. Jim, as the story was told, remembered vividly +Betty's preoccupation whilst dinner went on, and the +immensity of her relief when the hall door so gently closed +and the car moved forward out of the street of +Charles-Robert. Ann Upcott had gone for good from the Maison +Crenelle. She would not interfere with Betty Harlowe +any more. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne Leclerc and Ann Upcott reached Madame Le +Vay's house a few minutes after ten. Michel Le Vay +came forward to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +"I am so glad that you came, Mademoiselle," he said +to Ann, "but you are late. Madame my mother has left +her place at the door of the ball-room, but we shall find +her later." +</p> + +<p> +He took them to the cloak-room, and coming away +they were joined by Espinosa. +</p> + +<p> +"You are going to dance now?" Michel Le Vay asked. +"No, not yet! Then Señor Espinosa will take you to +the buffet while I look after others of our guests." +</p> + +<p> +He hurried away towards the ball-room, where a clatter +of high voices competed with the music of the band. +Espinosa conducted the two ladies to the buffet. There +was hardly anybody in the room. +</p> + +<p> +"We are still too early," said Jeanne Leclerc in a low +voice. "We shall take some coffee." +</p> + +<p> +But Ann would not. Her eyes were on the door, her +feet danced, her hands could not keep still. Was the +letter a trick? Would she, indeed, within the next few +minutes learn the truth? At one moment her heart sank +into her shoes, at another it soared. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, you neglect your coffee," said Espinosa +urgently. "And it is good." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt," Ann replied. She turned to Jeanne +Leclerc. "You will send me home, won't you? I shall +not wait—afterwards." +</p> + +<p> +"But of course," Jeanne Leclerc agreed. "All that is +arranged. The chauffeur has his orders. You will take +your coffee, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +Again Ann would not +</p> + +<p> +"I want nothing," she declared. "It is time that I +went." She caught a swift and curious interchange of +glances between Jeanne Leclerc and Espinosa, but she +was in no mood to seek an interpretation. There could +be no doubt that the coffee set before her had had some +drug slipped into it by Espinosa when he fetched it from +the buffet to the little table at which they sat; a drug +which would have half stupefied her and made her easy +to manage. But she was not to be persuaded, and she rose +to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall get my cloak," she said, and she fetched it, +leaving her two companions together. She did not return +to the buffet. +</p> + +<p> +On the far side of the big central hall a long corridor +stretched out. At the mouth of the corridor, guarding +it, stood Michel Le Vay. He made a sign to her, and +when she joined him: +</p> + +<p> +"Turn down to the right into the wing," he said in a +low voice. "The small library is in front of you." +</p> + +<p> +Ann slipped past him. She turned into a wing of the +house which was quite deserted and silent. At the end +of it a shut door confronted her. She opened it softly. +It was all dark within. But enough light entered from +the corridor to show her the high bookcases ranged +against the walls, the position of the furniture, and some +dark, heavy curtains at the end. She was the first, then, +to come to the tryst. She closed the door behind her and +moved slowly and cautiously forwards with her hands +outstretched, until she felt the curtains yield. She passed +in between them into the recess of a great bow window +opening on to the park; and a sound, a strange, creaking +sound, brought her heart into her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Some one was already in the room, then. Somebody +had been quietly watching as she came in from the +lighted corridor. The sound grew louder. Ann peered +between the curtains, holding them apart with shaking +hands, and through that chink from behind her a vague +twilight flowed into the room. In the far corner, near +to the door, high up on a tall bookcase, something was +clinging—something was climbing down. Whoever it +was, had been hiding behind the ornamental top of the +heavy mahogany book-case; was now using the shelves +like the rungs of a ladder. +</p> + +<p> +Ann was seized with a panic. A sob broke from her +throat. She ran for the door. But she was too late. A +black figure dropped from the book-case to the ground +and, as Ann reached out her hands to the door, a scarf +was whipped about her mouth, stifling her cry. She was +jerked back into the room, but her fingers had touched +the light switch by the door, and as she stumbled and fell, +the room was lighted up. Her assailant fell upon her, +driving the breath out of her lungs, and knotted the scarf +tightly at the back of her head. Ann tried to lift herself, +and recognised with a gasp of amazement that the assailant +who pinned her down by the weight of her body and +the thrust of her knees was Francine Rollard. Her panic +gave place to anger and a burning humiliation. She +fought with all the strength of her supple body. But the +scarf about her mouth stifled and weakened her, and with +a growing dismay she understood that she was no match +for the hardy peasant girl. She was the taller of the two, +but her height did not avail her; she was like a child +matched with a wildcat. Francine's hands were made of +steel. She snatched Ann's arms behind her back and +bound her wrists, as she lay face downwards, her bosom +labouring, her heart racing so that she felt that it must +burst. Then, as Ann gave up the contest, she turned and +tied her by the ankles. +</p> + +<p> +Francine was upon her feet again in a flash. She ran +to the door, opened it a little way and beckoned. Then +she dragged her prisoner up on to a couch, and Jeanne +Leclerc and Espinosa slipped into the room. +</p> + +<p> +"It's done?" said Espinosa. +</p> + +<p> +Francine laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, but she fought, the pretty baby! You should +have given her the coffee. Then she would have walked +with us. Now she must be carried. She's wicked, I can +tell you." +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne Leclerc twisted a lace scarf about the girl's face +to hide the gag over her mouth, and, while Francine held +her up, set her white cloak about her shoulders and +fastened it in front. Espinosa then turned out the light +and drew back the curtains. +</p> + +<p> +The room was at the back of the house. In the front +of the window the park stretched away. But it was the +park of a French château, where the cattle feed up to the +windows, and only a strip about the front terrace is +devoted to pleasure-gardens and fine lawns. Espinosa +looked out upon meadow-land thickly studded with trees, +and cows dimly moving in the dusk of the summer night +like ghosts. He opened the window, and the throb of +the music from the ball-room came faintly to their ears. +</p> + +<p> +"We must be quick," said Espinosa. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted the helpless girl in his arms and passed out +into the park. They left the window open behind them, +and between them they carried their prisoner across the +grass, keeping where it was possible in the gloom of the +trees, and aiming for a point in the drive where a motorcar +waited half-way between the house and the gates. A +blur of light from the terrace and ornamental grounds in +front of it became visible away upon their left, but here +all was dark. Once or twice they stopped and set Ann +upon her feet, and held her so, while they rested. +</p> + +<p> +"A few more yards," Espinosa whispered and, stifling +an oath, he stopped again. They were on the edge of the +drive now, and just ahead of him he saw the glimmer of a +white dress and close to it the glow of a cigarette. +Swiftly he put Ann down again and propped her against +a tree. Jeanne Leclerc stood in front of her and, as the +truants from the ball-room approached, she began to talk +to Ann, nodding her head like one engrossed in a lively +story. Espinosa's heart stood still as he heard the man +say: +</p> + +<p> +"Why, there are some others here! That is curious. +Shall we see?" +</p> + +<p> +But even as he moved across the drive, the girl in the +white dress caught him by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"That would not be very tactful," she said with a +laugh. "Let us do as we would be done by," and the +couple sauntered past. +</p> + +<p> +Espinosa waited until they had disappeared. "Quick! +Let us go!" he whispered in a shaking voice. +</p> + +<p> +A few yards farther on they found Espinosa's closed +car hidden in a little alley which led from the main drive. +They placed Ann in the car. Jeanne Leclerc got in beside +her, and Espinosa took the wheel. As they took the road +to the Val Terzon a distant clock struck eleven. Within +the car Jeanne Leclerc removed the gag from Ann +Upcott's mouth, drew the sack over her and fastened it +underneath her feet. At the branch road young Espinosa +was waiting with his motor-cycle and side-car. +</p> + +<p> +"I can add a few words to that story, Mademoiselle," +said Hanaud when she had ended. "First, Michel Le Vay +went later into the library, and bolted the window again, +believing you to be well upon your way to Paris. Second, +Espinosa and Jeanne Leclerc were taken as they returned +to Madame Le Vay's ball." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: <i>What Happened<br /> +on the Night of the 27th</i> +</h3> + +<p> +"We are not yet quite at the end," said Hanaud, as +he sat with Frobisher for awhile upon the lawn +after Ann Upcott had gone in. "But we are near to it. +There is still my question to be answered. 'Why was the +communicating door open between the bedroom of +Madame Harlowe and the treasure-room on the night +when Ann Upcott came down the stairs in the dark?' When +we know that, we shall know why Francine Rollard +and Betty Harlowe between them murdered Madame +Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you believe Francine Rollard had a hand in +that crime too?" asked Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure," returned Hanaud. "Do you remember +the experiment I made, the little scene of reconstruction? +Betty Harlowe stretched out upon the bed to represent +Madame, and Francine whispering 'That will do now'?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud lit a cigarette and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Francine Rollard would not stand at the side of the +bed. No! She would stand at the foot and whisper +those simple but appalling words. But nowhere else. +That was significant, my friend. She would not stand +exactly where she had stood when the murder was +committed." He added softly, "I have great hopes of +Francine Rollard. A few days of a prison cell and that +untamed little tiger-cat will talk." +</p> + +<p> +"And what of Waberski in all this?" Jim exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud laughed and rose from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Waberski? He is for nothing in all this. He brought +a charge in which he didn't believe, and the charge +happened to be true. That is all." He took a step or two +away and returned. "But I am wrong. That is not all. +Waberski is indeed for something in all this. For when +he was pressed to make good his charge and must rake +up some excuse for it somehow, by a piece of luck he +thinks of a morning when he saw Betty Harlowe in the +street of Gambetta near to the shop of Jean Cladel. And +so he leads us to the truth. Yes, we owe something to +that animal Boris Waberski. Did I not tell you, +Monsieur, that we are all the servants of Chance?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud went from the garden and for three days Jim +Frobisher saw him no more. But the development which +Monsieur Bex feared and for which Hanaud hoped took +place, and on the third day Hanaud invited Jim to his +office in the Prefecture. +</p> + +<p> +He had Jim's memorandum in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you remember what you wrote?" he asked. +"See!" He pushed the memorandum in front of Jim +and pointed to a paragraph. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +"But in the absence of any trace of poison in the dead +woman's body, it is difficult to see how the criminal can +be brought to justice except by: +</p> + +<p> +"(<i>a</i>) A confession. +</p> + +<p> +"(<i>b</i>) The commission of another crime of a similar +kind. +</p> + +<p> +"Hanaud's theory—once a poisoner, always a poisoner." +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Frobisher read it through. +</p> + +<p> +"Now that is very true," said Hanaud. "Never have +I come across a case more difficult. At every step we +break down. I think I have my fingers on Jean Cladel. +I am five minutes too late. I think that I shall get some +useful evidence from a firm in Paris. The firm has +ceased to be for the last ten years. All the time I strike +at air. So I must take a risk—yes, and a serious one. +Shall I tell you what that risk was? I have to assume +that Mademoiselle Ann will be brought alive to the Hôtel +de Brebizart on that night of Madame Le Vay's ball. +That she would be brought back I had no doubt. For +one thing, there could be no safer resting-place for her +than under the stone flags of the kitchen there. For +another, there was the portmanteau in the side-car. It +was not light, the portmanteau. Some friends of mine +watched it being put into the side-car before young +Espinosa started for his rendezvous. I have no doubt it +weighed just as many kilos as Mademoiselle Ann." +</p> + +<p> +"I never understood the reason of that portmanteau," +Frobisher interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a matter of timing. There were twenty-five +kilometres of a bad track, with many sharp little twists +between the Val Terzon and the Hôtel de Brebizart. And +a motor-cycle with an empty side-car would take +appreciably longer to cover the distance than a cycle with +a side-car weighted, which could take the corners at its +top speed. They were anxious to get the exact time the +journey would take with Ann Upcott in the side-car, so +that there might be no needless hanging about waiting +for its arrival. But they were a little too careful. Our +friend Boris said a shrewd thing, didn't he? Some crimes +are discovered because the alibis are too unnaturally +perfect. Oh, there was no doubt they meant to bring back +Mademoiselle Ann! But suppose they brought her back +dead! It wasn't likely—no! It would be so much easier +to finish her off with a dose of the arrow-poison. No +struggle, no blood, no trouble at all. I reckoned that +they would dope her at Madame Le Vay's ball and bring +her back half conscious, as indeed they meant to do. But +I shivered all that evening at the risk I had taken, and +when that cycle shut off its engine, as we stood in the +darkness of the gallery, I was in despair." +</p> + +<p> +He shook his shoulders uncomfortably as though the +danger was not yet passed. +</p> + +<p> +"Anyway, I took the risk," he resumed, "and so we +got fulfilled your condition (<i>b</i>). The commission or, in +this case, the attempted commission of another crime of +the same kind." +</p> + +<p> +Frobisher nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"But now," said Hanaud, leaning forward, "we have +got your condition (<i>a</i>) fulfilled—a confession; a clear +and complete confession from Francine Rollard, and so +many admissions from the Espinosas, and Jeanne Leclerc +and Maurice Thevenet, that they amount to confessions. +We have put them all together, and here is the new part +of the case with which Monsieur Bex and you will have +to deal—the charge not of murder attempted but of +murder committed—the murder of Madame Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher was upon the point of interrupting, but +he thought better of it. +</p> + +<p> +"Go on!" he contented himself with saying. +</p> + +<p> +"Why Betty Harlowe took to writing anonymous +letters, Monsieur—who shall say? The dulness of life +for a girl young and beautiful and passionate in a +provincial town, as our friend Boris suggests? The craving +for excitement? Something bad and vicious and +abnormal born in her, part of her, and craving more and +more expression as she grew in years? The exacting +attendance upon Madame? Probably all of these elements +combined to suggest the notion to her. And suddenly it +became easy for her. She discovered a bill in that box in +Madame Harlowe's bedroom, a receipted bill ten years +old from the firm of Chapperon, builders, of the Rue +de Batignolles in Paris. You, by the way, saw an +unburnt fragment of the bill in the ashes upon the hearth +of the treasure-room. This bill disclosed to her the +existence of the hidden passage between the treasure-room +and the Hôtel de Brebizart. For it was the bill +of the builders who had repaired it at the order of Simon +Harlowe. An old typewriting machine belonging to +Simon Harlowe and the absolute privacy of the Hôtel de +Brebizart made the game easy and safe. But as the +opportunity grew, so did the desire. Betty Harlowe tasted +power. She took one or two people into her confidence—her +maid Francine, Maurice Thevenet, Jeanne Leclerc, +and Jean Cladel, a very useful personage—and once +started the circle grew; blackmail followed. Blackmail of +Betty Harlowe, you understand! She, the little queen, +became the big slave. She must provide Thevenet with +his mistress, Espinosa with his car and his house, Jeanne +Leclerc with her luxuries. So the anonymous letters +become themselves blackmailing letters. Maurice Thevenet +knows the police side of Dijon and the province. Jeanne +Leclerc has a—friend, shall we say?—in the Director of +an Insurance Company, and, believe me, for a blackmailer +nothing is more important than to know accurately the +financial resources of one's—let us say, clients. Thus the +game went merrily on until money was wanted and it +couldn't be raised. Betty Harlowe looked around Dijon. +There was no one for the moment to exploit. Yes, one +person! Let us do Betty Harlowe the justice to believe +that the suggestion came from that promising young +novice, Maurice Thevenet! Who was that person, +Monsieur Frobisher?" +</p> + +<p> +Even now Jim Frobisher was unable to guess the truth, +led up to it though he had been by Hanaud's exposition. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madame Harlowe herself," Hanaud explained, +and, as Jim Frobisher started back in a horror of +disbelief, he continued: "Yes, it is so! Madame Harlowe +received a letter at dinner-time, just as Ann Upcott did, +on the night of Monsieur de Pouillac's ball. She took +her dinner in bed, you may remember, that night. That +letter was shown to Jeanne Baudin the nurse, who +remembers it very well. It demanded a large sum of money, +and something was said about a number of passionate +letters which Madame Harlowe might not care to have +published—not too much, you understand, but enough to +make it clear that the liaison of Madame Raviart and +Simon Harlowe was not a secret from the Scourge. I'll +tell you something else which will astonish you, Monsieur +Frobisher. That letter was shown not only to Jeanne +Baudin, but to Betty Harlowe herself when she came to +say good night and show herself in her new dance frock +of silver tissue and her silver slippers. It was no wonder +that Betty Harlowe lost her head a little when I set my +little trap for her in the library and pretended that I did +not want to read what Madame had said to Jeanne Baudin +after Betty Harlowe had gone off to her ball. I hadn't +one idea what a very unpleasant little trap it was!" +</p> + +<p> +"But wait a moment!" Frobisher interrupted. "If +Madame Harlowe showed this letter first of all to Jeanne +Baudin, and afterwards to Betty Harlowe in Jeanne +Baudin's presence, why didn't Jeanne Baudin speak of it +at once to the examining magistrate when Waberski +brought his accusation? She kept silent! Yes, she kept +silent!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why shouldn't she?" returned Hanaud. "Jeanne +Baudin is a good and decent girl. For her, Madame +Harlowe had died a natural death in her sleep, the very form +in which death might be expected to come for her. +Jeanne Baudin didn't believe a word of Waberski's +accusation. Why should she rake up old scandals? She +herself proposed to Betty Harlowe to say nothing about +the anonymous letter." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher thought over the argument and accepted +it. "Yes, I see her point of view," he admitted, and +Hanaud continued his narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, Betty Harlowe is off to her ball on the +Boulevard Thiers. Ann Upcott is in her sitting-room. +Jeanne Baudin has finished her offices for the night. +Madame Harlowe is alone. What does she do? Drink? +For that night—no! She sits and thinks. Were there +any of the letters which passed between her and Simon +Harlowe, before she was Simon Harlowe's wife, still +existing? She had thought to have destroyed them all. +But she was a woman, she might have clutched some +back. If there were any, where would they be? Why +in that house at the end of the secret passage. Some +such thoughts must have passed through her mind. For +she rose from her bed, slipped on her dressing-gown and +shoes, unlocked the communicating door between her and +the treasure-room and passed by the secret way into the +empty Hôtel de Brebizart. And what does she find there, +Monsieur? A room in daily use, a bundle of her letters +ready in the top drawer of her Empire writing-table, and +on the writing-table Simon's Corona machine, and the +paper and envelopes of the anonymous letters. Monsieur, +there is only one person who can have access to that +room, the girl whom she has befriended, whom in her +exacting way she no doubt loved. And at eleven o'clock +that night Francine Rollard is startled by the entrance of +Madame Harlowe into her bedroom. For a moment +Francine fancied that Madame had been drinking. She +was very quickly better informed. She was told to get +up, to watch for Betty Harlowe's return and to bring her +immediately to Madame Harlowe's bedroom. At one +o'clock Francine Rollard is waiting in the dark hall. As +Betty comes in from her party, Francine Rollard gives +her the message. Neither of these two girls know as yet +how much of their villainies has been discovered. But +something at all events. Betty Harlowe bade Francine +wait and ran upstairs silently to her room. Betty +Harlowe was prepared against discovery. She had been +playing with fire, and she didn't mean to be burnt. She had +the arrow-poison ready—yes, ready for herself. She +filled her hypodermic needle, and with that concealed in +the palm of her glove she went to confront her +benefactress. +</p> + +<p> +"You can imagine that scene, the outraged woman +whose romance and tragedy were to be exploited blurting +out her fury in front of Francine Rollard. It wasn't +Waberski who was to be stripped to the skin—no, but +the girl in the pretty silver frock and the silver slippers. +You can imagine the girl, too, her purpose changing under +the torrent of abuse. Why should she use the arrow-poison +to destroy herself when she can save everything—fortune, +liberty, position—by murder? Only she must be +quick. Madame's voice is rising in gusts of violence. +Even in that house of the old thick walls, Jeanne Baudin, +some one, might be wakened by the clamour. And in a +moment the brutal thing is done. Madame Harlowe is +flung back upon her bed. Her mouth is covered and held +by Francine Rollard. The needle does its work. 'That +will do now,' whispers Betty Harlowe. But at the door +of the treasure-room in the darkness Ann Upcott is standing, +unable to identify the voice which whispered, just +as you and I were unable, Monsieur, to identify a voice +which whispered to us from the window of Jean Cladel's +house, but taking deep into her memory the terrible +words. And neither of the murderesses knew it. +</p> + +<p> +"They go calmly about their search for the letters. +They cannot find them, because Madame had pushed them +into the coffer of old bills and papers. They rearrange +the bed, they compose their victim in it as if she were +asleep, they pass into the treasure-room, and they forget +to lock the door behind them. Very likely they visit the +Hôtel de Brebizart. Betty Harlowe has the rest of the +arrow-poison and the needle to put in some safe place, +and where else is safe? In the end when every care has +been taken that not a scrap of incriminating evidence is +left to shout 'Murder' the next morning, Betty creeps +up the stairs to make sure that Ann Upcott is asleep; and +Ann Upcott waking, stretches up her hands and touches +her face. +</p> + +<p> +"That, Monsieur," and Hanaud rose to his feet, "is +what you would call the case for the Crown. It is the +case which you and Monsieur Bex have to meet." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher made up his mind to say the things +which he had almost said at the beginning of this +interview. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall tell Monsieur Bex exactly what you have told +me. I shall give him every assistance that I personally or +my firm can give. But I have no longer any formal +connection with the defence." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud looked at Frobisher in perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand, Monsieur. This is not the +moment to renounce a client." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor do I," rejoined Frobisher. "It is the other way +about. Monsieur Bex put it to me very—how shall I +say?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud supplied the missing word with a twitch of his +lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Very correctly." +</p> + +<p> +"He told me that Mademoiselle did not wish to see +me again." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud walked over to the window. The humiliation +evident in Frobisher's voice and face moved him. He +said very gently, "I can understand that, can't you? She +has fought for a great stake all this last week, her liberty, +her fortune, her good name—and you. Oh, yes," he +continued, as Jim stirred at the table. "Let us be frank! +And you, Monsieur! You were a little different from +her friends. From the earliest moment she set her +passions upon you. Do you remember the first morning I +came to the Maison Crenelle? You promised Ann Upcott +to put up there though you had just refused the same +invitation from Betty Harlowe. Such a fury of jealousy +blazed in her eyes, that I had to drop my stick with a +clatter in the hall lest she should recognise that I could not +but have discovered her secret. Well, having fought for +this stake and lost, she would not wish to see you. You +had seen her, too, in her handcuffs and tied by the legs +like a sheep. I understand her very well." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher remembered that from the moment +Hanaud burst into the room at the Hôtel de Brebizart, +Betty had never once even looked at him. He got up +from his chair and took up his hat and stick. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go back to my partner in London with this +story as soon as I have told it to Monsieur Bex," he +said. "I should like it complete. When did you first +suspect Betty Harlowe?" +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"That, too, I shall tell you. Oh, don't thank me! I am +not so sure that I should be so ready with all these +confidences, if I was not certain what the verdict in the Assize +Court must be. I shall gather up for you the threads +which are still loose, but not here." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +"See, it is past noon! We shall once more have +Philippe Le Bon's Terrace Tower to ourselves. It may +be, too, that we shall see Mont Blanc across all the +leagues of France. Come! Let us take your +memorandum and go there." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: <i>The Façade of Notre Dame</i> +</h3> + +<p> +For a second time they were fortunate. It was a day +without mist or clouds, and the towering silver ridge +hung in the blue sky distinct and magical. Hanaud lit +one of his black cigarettes and reluctantly turned away +from it. +</p> + +<p> +"There were two great mistakes made," he said. "One +at the very beginning by Betty Harlowe. One at the very +end by me, and of the two mine was the least excusable. +Let us begin, therefore, at the beginning. Madame +Harlowe has died a natural death. She is buried; Betty +Harlowe inherits the Harlowe fortune. Boris Waberski asks +her for money and she snaps her the fingers. Why should +she not? Ah, but she must have been very sorry a week +later that she snapped her the fingers! For suddenly he +flings his bomb. Madame Harlowe was poisoned by her +niece Betty. Imagine Betty Harlowe's feelings when she +heard of that! The charge is preposterous. No doubt! +But it is also true. A minute back she is safe. Nothing +can touch her. Now suddenly her head is loose upon her +neck. She is frightened. She is questioned in the +examining magistrate's room. The magistrate has nothing +against her. All will be well if she does not make a slip. +But there is a good chance she may make a slip. For she +has done the murder. Her danger is not any evidence +which Waberski can bring, but just herself. In two days +she is still more frightened, for she hears that Hanaud is +called in from Paris. So she makes her mistake. She +sends a telegram to you in London." +</p> + +<p> +"Why was that a mistake?" Frobisher asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Because I begin to ask myself at once: 'How does +Betty Harlowe know that Hanaud has been called in?' +Oh, to be sure, I made a great fluster in my office about +the treachery of my colleagues in Dijon. But I did not +believe a word of that. No! I am at once curious about +Betty Harlowe. That is all. Still, I am curious. Well, +we come to Dijon and you tell her that you have shown +me that telegram." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Jim admitted. "I did. I remember, too," he +added slowly, "that she put out her hand on the window +sill—yes, as if to steady herself." +</p> + +<p> +"But she was quick to recover," returned Hanaud with +a nod of appreciation. "She must account for that +telegram. She cannot tell me that Maurice Thevenet sent a +hurried word to her. No! So when I ask her if she +has ever received one of these anonymous letters—which, +remember, were my real business in Dijon—she says at +once 'Yes, I received one on the Sunday morning which +told me that Monsieur Hanaud was coming from Paris +to make an end of me.' That was quick, eh? Yes, but I +know it is a lie. For it was not until the Sunday evening +that any question of my being sent for arose at all. You +see Mademoiselle Betty was in a corner. I had asked +her for the letter. She does not say that she has +destroyed it, lest I should at once believe that she never +received any such letter at all. On the contrary she says +that it is in the treasure-room which is sealed up, knowing +quite well that she can write it and place it there by way +of the Hôtel de Brebizart before the seals are removed. +But for the letter to be in the treasure-room she must +have received it on the Sunday morning, since it was +on the Sunday morning that the seals were affixed. She +did not know when it was first proposed to call me in. +She draws a bow at a venture, and I know that she is +lying; and I am more curious than ever about Betty +Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. For Jim Frobisher was staring at him +with a look of horror in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"It was I then who put you on her track?—I who +came out to defend her!" he cried. "For it was I who +showed you the telegram." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur Frobisher, that would not have mattered +if Betty Harlowe had been, as you believed her, innocent," +Hanaud replied gravely; and Frobisher was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, after my first interview with Betty Harlowe, +I went over the house whilst you and Betty talked +together in the library!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"And in Mademoiselle Ann's sitting-room I found +something which interested me at the first glance. Now +tell me what it was!" and he cocked his head at Jim with +the hope that his riddle would divert him from his +self-reproaches. And in that to some extent he succeeded. +</p> + +<p> +"That I can guess," Frobisher answered with the ghost +of a smile. "It was the treatise on Sporanthus." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! The arrow-poison! The poison which leaves +no trace! Monsieur, that poison has been my nightmare. +Who would be the first poisoner to use it? How should I +cope with him and prove that it brought no more security +than arsenic or prussic-acid? These are questions which +have terrified me. And suddenly, unexpectedly, in a +house where a death from heart failure has just occurred, +I find a dry-as-dust treatise upon the poison tucked away +under a pile of magazines in a young lady's sitting-room. +I tell you I was staggered. What was it doing there? +How did it come there? I see a note upon the cover, +indicating a page. I turn to the page and there, staring at +me, is an account of Simon Harlowe's perfect specimen +of a poison-arrow. The anonymous letters? They are +at once forgotten. What if that animal Waberski, +without knowing it, were right, and Madame Harlowe was +murdered in the Maison Crenelle? I must find that out. +I tuck the treatise up my back beneath my waistcoat and +I go downstairs again, asking myself some questions. Is +Mademoiselle Ann interested in such matters as Sporanthus +Hispidus? Or had she anything to hope for from +Madame Harlowe's death? Or did she perhaps not know +at all that the treatise was under that pile of magazines +upon the table at the side? I do not know, and my head +is rather in a whirl. Then I catch that wicked look of +Betty Harlowe at her friend—Monsieur, a revealing look! +I have not the demure and simple young lady of convention +to deal with at all. No. I go away from the Maison +Crenelle, still more curious about Betty Harlowe." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher sat quickly down at Hanaud's side. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure of that?" he asked suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite," Hanaud replied in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +"You have forgotten, haven't you, that immediately +after you left the Maison Crenelle that day you had the +<i>sergent-de-ville</i> removed from its gates?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I don't forget that at all," Hanaud answered +imperturbably. "The <i>sergent-de-ville</i> in his white trousers +was an absurdity—worse than that, an actual hindrance. +There is little use in watching people who know that they +are being watched. So I remove the <i>sergent-de-ville</i> and +now I can begin really to watch those young ladies of +the Maison Crenelle. And that afternoon, whilst +Monsieur Frobisher is removing his luggage from his hotel, +Betty Harlowe goes out for a walk, is discreetly followed +by Nicolas Moreau—and vanishes. I don't blame Nicolas. +He must not press too close upon her heels. She +was in that place of small lanes about the Hôtel de +Brebizart. No doubt it was through the little postern in the +wall which we ourselves used a few days afterwards that +she vanished. There was the anonymous letter to be +written, ready for me to receive when the seals of the +treasure-room were broken. But I don't know that yet. +No! All that I know is that Betty Harlowe goes out for +a walk and is lost, and after an hour reappears in another +street. Meanwhile I pass my afternoon examining so far +as I can how these young ladies pass their lives and who +are their friends. An examination not very productive, +and not altogether futile. For I find some curious friends +in Betty Harlowe's circle. Now, observe this, Monsieur! +Young girls with advanced ideas, social, political, literary, +what you will—in their case curious friends mean +nothing! They are to be expected. But with a young girl +who is to all appearance leading the normal life of her +class, the case is different. In her case curious friends +are—curious. The Espinosas, Maurice Thevenet, Jeanne +Leclerc—flashy cheap people of that type—how shall we +account for them as friends of that delicate piece of china, +Betty Harlowe?" +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher nodded his head. He, too, had been a +trifle disconcerted by the familiarity between Espinosa +and Betty Harlowe. +</p> + +<p> +"The evening," Hanaud continued, "which you spent +so pleasantly in the cool of the garden with the young +ladies, I spent with the Edinburgh Professor. And I +prepared a little trap. Yes, and the next morning I came +early to the Maison Crenelle and I set my little trap. I +replace the book about the arrows on the bookshelf in its +obvious place." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud paused in his explanation to take another black +cigarette from his eternal blue bundle, and to offer one to +Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"Then comes our interview with the animal Waberski; +and he tells me that queer story about Betty Harlowe in +the street of Gambetta close to the shop of Jean Cladel. +He may be lying. He may be speaking the truth and +what he saw might be an accident. Yes! But also it fits +in with this theory of Madame Harlowe's murder which +is now taking hold of me. For if that poison was used, +then some one who understood the composition of drugs +must have made the solution from the paste upon the +arrow. I am more curious than ever about Betty Harlowe! +And the moment that animal has left me, I spring +my trap; and I have a success beyond all my expectations. +I point to the treatise of the Edinburgh Professor. It was +not in its place yesterday. It is to-day. Who then +replaced it? I ask that question and Mademoiselle Ann is +utterly at sea. She knows nothing about that book. +That is evident as Mont Blanc over there in the sky. On +the other hand Betty Harlowe knows at once who has +replaced that book; and in a most unwise moment of +sarcasm, she allows me to see that she knows. She knows +that I found it yesterday, that I have studied it since and +replaced it. And she is not surprised. No, for she +knows where I found it. I am at once like Waberski. I +know it in my heart that she put it under those magazines +in Ann Upcott's room, although I do not yet know +it in my head. Betty Harlowe had prepared to divert +suspicion from herself upon Ann Upcott, should +suspicion arise. But innocent people do not do that, +Monsieur. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we go into the garden and Mademoiselle Ann +tells us her story. Monsieur Frobisher, I said to you +immediately afterwards that all great criminals who are +women are great actresses. But never in my life have I +seen one who acted so superbly as Betty Harlowe while +that story was being unfolded. Imagine it! A cruel +murder has been secretly committed and suddenly the +murderess has to listen to a true account of that murder +in the presence of the detective who is there to fix the +guilt! There was some one at hand all the time—almost +an eye-witness—perhaps an actual eye-witness. For she +cannot know that she is safe until the last word of the +story is told. Picture to yourself Betty Harlowe's +feelings during that hour in the pleasant garden, if you can! +The questions which must have been racing through her +mind! Did Ann Upcott in the end creep forward and +peer through the lighted doorway? Does she know the +truth—and has she kept it hidden until this moment when +Hanaud and Frobisher are present and she can speak it +safely? Will her next words be 'And here at my side sits +the murderess'? Those must have been terrible moments +for Betty Harlowe!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yet she gave no sign of any distress," Frobisher +added. +</p> + +<p> +"But she took a precaution," Hanaud remarked. "She +ran suddenly and very swiftly into the house." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. You seemed to me on the point of stopping her." +</p> + +<p> +"And I was," continued Hanaud. "But I let her go +and she returned——" +</p> + +<p> +"With the photographs of Mrs. Harlowe," Frobisher +interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, with more than those photographs," Hanaud +exclaimed. "She turned her chair towards Mademoiselle +Ann. She sat with her handkerchief in her hand and her +face against her handkerchief, listening—the tender, +sympathetic friend. But when Mademoiselle Ann told us +that the hour of the murder was half-past ten, a weakness +overtook her—could not but overtake her. And in that +moment of weakness she dropped her handkerchief. Oh, +she picked it up again at once. Yes, but where the +handkerchief had fallen her foot now rested, and when the +story was all ended, and we got up from our chairs, she +spun round upon her heel with a certain violence so that +there was left a hole in that well-watered turf. I was +anxious to discover what it was that she had brought out +from the house in her handkerchief, and had dropped with +her handkerchief and had driven with all the weight of +her body into the turf so that no one might see it. In +fact I left my gloves behind in order that I might come +back and discover it. But she was too quick for me. She +fetched my gloves herself, much to my shame that I, +Hanaud, should be waited on by so exquisite a young lady. +However, I found it afterwards when you and Girardot +and the others were all waiting for me in the library. It +was that tablet of cyanide of potassium which I showed +to you in the Prefecture. She did not know how much +Ann Upcott was going to reveal. The arrow-poison had +been hidden away in the Hôtel de Brebizart. But she had +something else at hand—more rapid—death like a thunderbolt. +So she ran into the house for it. I tell you, Monsieur, +it wanted nerve to sit there with that tablet close +to her mouth. She grew very pale. I do not wonder. +What I do wonder is that she did not topple straight off +her chair in a dead faint before us all. But no! She sat +ready to swallow that tablet at once if there were need, +before my hand could stop her. Once more I say to you, +people who are innocent do not do that." +</p> + +<p> +Jim had no argument wherewith to answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he was forced to admit. "She could have got +the tablets no doubt from Jean Cladel." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then," Hanaud resumed. "We have separated +for luncheon and in the afternoon the seals are to +be removed. Before that takes place, certain things must +be done. The clock must be moved from the mantelshelf +in the treasure-room on to the marquetry cabinet. Some +letters too must be burnt." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Why?" Frobisher asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"The letters were burned. It is difficult to say. For +my part I think those old letters between Simon Harlowe +and Madame Raviart alluded too often to the secret passage. +But here I am guessing. What I learnt for certain +during that luncheon hour is that there is a secret passage +and that it runs from the treasure-room to the Hôtel de +Brebizart. For this time Nicolas Moreau makes no +mistake. He follows her to the Hôtel de Brebizart and I +from this tower see the smoke rising from the chimney. +Look, Monsieur, there it is! But no smoke rises from it +to-day." +</p> + +<p> +He rose to his feet and turned his back upon Mont +Blanc. The trees in the garden, the steep yellow-patterned +roof, and the chimneys of the Maison Crenelle stood out +above the lesser buildings which surrounded them. Only +from one of the chimneys did the smoke rise to-day, and +that one at the extreme end of the building where the +kitchens were. +</p> + +<p> +"We are back then in the afternoon. The seals are +removed. We are in Madame Harlowe's bedroom and +something I cannot explain occurs." +</p> + +<p> +"The disappearance of the necklace," Frobisher +exclaimed confidently; and Hanaud grinned joyfully. +</p> + +<p> +"See, I set a trap for you and at once you are caught!" +he cried. "The necklace? Oh, no, no! I am prepared +for that. The guilt is being transferred to Mademoiselle +Ann. Good! But it is not enough to hide the book +about the arrow in her room. No, we must provide her +also with a motive. Mademoiselle is poor; Mademoiselle +inherits nothing. Therefore the necklace worth a +hundred thousand pounds vanishes, and you must draw from +its vanishing what conclusion you will. No, the little +matter I cannot explain is different. Betty Harlowe and +our good Girardot pay a visit to Jeanne Baudin's bedroom +to make sure that a cry from Madame's room could not +be heard there." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Our good Girardot comes back." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"But he comes alone. That is the little thing I cannot +explain. Where is Betty Harlowe? I ask for her before +I go into the treasure-room, and lo! very modestly and +quietly she has slipped in amongst us again. I am very +curious about that, my friend, and I keep my eyes open +for an explanation, I assure you." +</p> + +<p> +"I remember," said Frobisher. "You stopped with +your hand upon the door and asked for Mademoiselle +Harlowe. I wondered why you stopped. I attached no +importance to her absence." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud flourished his hand. He was happy. He was +in the artist's mood. The work was over, the long strain +and pain of it. Now let those outside admire! +</p> + +<p> +"Of all that the treasure-room had to tell us, you know, +Monsieur Frobisher. But I answer a question in your +memorandum. The instant I am in the room, I look for +the mouth of that secret passage from the Hôtel de +Brebizart. At once I see. There is only one place. The +elegant Sedan chair framed so prettily in a recess of the +wall. So I am very careful not to pry amongst its +cushions for the poison arrow; just as I am very careful +not to ask for the envelope with the post mark in which +the anonymous letter was sent. If Betty Harlowe thinks +that she has overreached the old fox Hanaud—good! +Let her think so. So we go upstairs and I find the +explanation of that little matter of Betty Harlowe's absence +which has been so troubling me." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said. "I haven't got that. We went into +Ann Upcott's sitting-room. I write my memorandum +with the shaft of the poison arrow and you notice it +Yes! But the matter of Betty Harlowe's absence! No, I +haven't got that." +</p> + +<p> +"But you have," cried Hanaud. "That pen! It was +not there in the pen-tray on the day before, when I found +the book. There was just one pen—the foolish thing +young ladies use, a great goose-quill dyed red—and +nothing else. The arrow shaft had been placed there +since. When? Why, just now. It is clear, that. Where +was that shaft of the poison-arrow before? In one of +two places. Either in the treasure-room or in the Hôtel +de Brebizart. Betty Harlowe has fetched it away during +that hour of freedom; she carries it in her dress; she seizes +her moment when we are all in Madame Harlowe's +bedroom and—pau, pau!—there it is in the pen-tray of +Mademoiselle Ann, to make suspicion still more +convincing! Monsieur, I walk away with Monsieur Bex, who +has some admirable scheme that I should search the +gutters for a match-box full of pearls. I agree—oh yes, +that is the only way. Monsieur Bex has found it! On +the other hand I get some useful information about the +Maison Crenelle and the Hôtel de Brebizart. I carry +that information to a very erudite gentleman in the Palace +of the Departmental Archives, and the next morning I +know all about the severe Etienne de Crenelle and the +joyous Madame de Brebizart. So when you and Betty +Harlowe are rehearsing in the Val Terzon, Nicolas +Moreau and I are very busy in the Hôtel de +Brebizart—with the results which now are clear to you, and one of +which I have not told you. For the pearl necklace was in +the drawer of the writing-table." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher took a turn across the terrace. Yes, the +story was clear to him now—a story of dark passions and +vanity, and greed of power with cruelties for its methods. +Was there no spark of hope and cheer in all this desolation? +He turned abruptly upon Hanaud. He wished to +know the last hidden detail. +</p> + +<p> +"You said that you had made the inexcusable mistake. +What was it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I bade you read my estimate of Ann Upcott on the +façade of the Church of Notre Dame." +</p> + +<p> +"And I did," cried Jim Frobisher. He was still looking +towards the Maison Crenelle, and his arm swept to +the left of the house. His fingers pointed at the +Renaissance church with its cupolas and its loggia, to which +Betty Harlowe had driven him. +</p> + +<p> +"There it is and under its porch is that terrible relief +of the Last Judgment." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Hanaud quietly. "But that is the Church +of St. Michel, Monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +He turned Frobisher about. Between him and Mont +Blanc, close at his feet, rose the slender apse of a Gothic +church, delicate in its structure like a jewel. +</p> + +<p> +"That is the Church of Notre Dame. Let us go down +and look at the façade." +</p> + +<p> +Hanaud led Frobisher to the wonderful church and +pointed to the frieze. There Frobisher saw such images +of devils half beast, half human, such grinning hog-men, +such tortured creatures with heads twisted round so that +they looked backwards, such old and drunken and vicious +horrors as imagination could hardly conceive; and +amongst them one girl praying, her sweet face tormented, +her hands tightly clasped, an image of terror and faith, +a prisoner amongst all these monsters imploring the +passers-by for their pity and their help. +</p> + +<p> +"That, Monsieur Frobisher, is what I sent you out to +see," said Hanaud gravely. "But you did not see it." +</p> + +<p> +His face changed as he spoke. It shone with kindness. +He lifted his hat. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Frobisher, with his eyes fixed in wonder upon that +frieze, heard Ann Upcott's voice behind him. +</p> + +<p> +"And how do you interpret that strange work, Monsieur +Hanaud?" She stopped beside the two men. +</p> + +<p> +"That, Mademoiselle, I shall leave Monsieur Frobisher +to explain to you." +</p> + +<p> +Both Ann Upcott and Jim Frobisher turned hurriedly +towards Hanaud. But already he was gone. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE ARROW ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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