The House of the Arrow

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. Everyone 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 tomorrow,” 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. Tomorrow Mademoiselle will tell us what happened to her tonight, 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 tonight. 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