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diff --git a/old/67514-0.txt b/old/67514-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 541c178..0000000 --- a/old/67514-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12355 +0,0 @@ -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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