At the Villa Rose

choose the girl’s room, except that if the thing were discovered that would be the natural place for it? It is, then, something belonging to Mlle. Célie. There was a second condition we laid down. It was something Vauquier had not been able to hide before. It came, then, into her possession last night. Why could she not hide it last night? Because she was not alone. There were the man and the woman, her accomplices. It was something, then, which she was concerned in hiding from them. It is not rash to guess, then, that it was some piece of the plunder of which the other two would have claimed their share⁠—and a piece of plunder belonging to Mlle. Célie. Well, she has nothing but the diamond eardrops. Suppose Vauquier is left alone to guard Mlle. Célie while the other two ransack Mme. Dauvray’s room. She sees her chance. The girl cannot stir hand or foot to save herself. Vauquier tears the eardrops in a hurry from her ears⁠—and there I have my drop of blood just where I should expect it to be. But now follow this! Vauquier hides the earrings in her pocket. She goes to bed in order to be chloroformed. She knows that it is very possible that her room will be searched before she regains consciousness, or before she is well enough to move. There is only one place to hide them in, only one place where they will be safe. In bed with her. But in the morning she must get rid of them, and a nurse is with her. Hence the excuse to go to Mlle. Célie’s room. If the eardrops are found in the pot of cold cream, it would only be thought that Mlle. Célie had herself hidden them there for safety. Again it is conjecture, and I wish to make sure. So I tell Vauquier she can go away, and I leave her unwatched. I have her driven to the depot instead of to her friends, and searched. Upon her is found the pot of cream, and in the cream Mlle. Célie’s eardrops. She has slipped into Mlle. Célie’s room, as, if my theory was correct, she would be sure to do, and put the pot of cream into her pocket. So I am now fairly sure that she is concerned in the murder.

“We then went to Mme. Dauvray’s room and discovered her brilliants and her ornaments. At once the meaning of that agitated piece of handwriting of Mlle. Célie’s becomes clear. She is asked where the jewels are hidden. She cannot answer, for her mouth, of course, is stopped. She has to write. Thus my conjectures get more and more support. And, mind this, one of the two women is guilty⁠—Célie or Vauquier. My discoveries all fit in with the theory of Célie’s innocence. But there remain the footprints, for which I found no explanation.

“You will remember I made you all promise silence as to the finding of Mme. Dauvray’s jewellery. For I thought, if they have taken the girl away so that suspicion may fall on her and not on Vauquier, they mean to dispose of her. But they may keep her so long as they have a chance of finding out from her Mme. Dauvray’s hiding-place. It was a small chance but our only one. The moment the discovery of the jewellery was published the girl’s fate was sealed, were my theory true.

“Then came our advertisement and Mme. Gobin’s written testimony. There was one small point of interest which I will take first: her statement that Adèle was the Christian name of the woman with the red hair, that the old woman who was the servant in that house in the suburb of Geneva called her Adèle, just simply Adèle. That interested me, for Hélène Vauquier had called her Adèle too when she was describing to us the unknown visitor. ‘Adèle’ was what Mme. Dauvray called her.”

“Yes,” said Ricardo. “Hélène Vauquier made a slip there. She should have given her a false name.”

Hanaud nodded.

“It is the one slip she made in the whole of the business. Nor did she recover herself very cleverly. For when the Commissaire pounced upon the name, she at once modified her words. She only thought now that the name was Adèle, or something like it. But when I went on to suggest that the name in any case would be a false one, at once she went back upon her modifications. And now she was sure that Adèle was the name used. I remembered her hesitation when I read Marthe Gobin’s letter. They helped to confirm me in my theory that she was in the plot; and they made me very sure that it was an Adèle for whom we had to look. So far well. But other statements in the letter puzzled me. For instance, ‘She ran lightly and quickly across the pavement into the house, as though she were afraid to be seen.’ Those were the words, and the woman was obviously honest. What became of my theory then? The girl was free to run, free to stoop and pick up the train of her gown in her hand, free to shout for help in the open street if she wanted help. No; that I could not explain until that afternoon, when I saw Mlle. Célie’s terror-stricken eyes fixed upon that flask, as Lemerre poured a little out and burnt a hole in the sack. Then I understood well enough. The fear of vitriol!” Hanaud gave an uneasy shudder. “And it is enough to make anyone afraid! That I can tell you. No wonder she lay still as a mouse upon the sofa in the bedroom. No wonder she ran quickly into the house. Well, there you have the explanation. I had only my theory to work upon even after Mme. Gobin’s evidence. But as it happened it was the right one. Meanwhile, of course, I made my inquiries