Wethermill shut his eyes in a spasm of pain and the pallor of his
face increased.
"Suppose that Celia were one of the victims?" he cried in a
stifled voice.
Hanaud glanced at him with a look of commiseration.
"That perhaps we shall see," he said. "But what I meant was this.
A stranger like Mlle. Celie might be the accomplice in such a
crime as the crime of the Villa Rose, meaning only robbery. A
stranger might only have discovered too late that murder would be
added to the theft."
Meanwhile, in strong, clear colours, Ricardo's picture stood out
before his eyes. He was startled by hearing Wethermill say, in a
firm voice: "My friend Ricardo has something to add to what you have said."
"I!" exclaimed Ricardo. How in the world could Wethermill know of
that clear picture in his mind?
"Yes. You saw Celia Harland on the evening before the murder."
Ricardo stared at his friend. It seemed to him that Harry
Wethermill had gone out of his mind. Here he was corroborating the
suspicions of the police by facts--damning and incontrovertible
facts.
"On the night before the murder," continued Wethermill quietly,
"Celia Harland lost money at the baccarat-table. Ricardo saw her
in the garden behind the rooms, and she was hysterical. Later on
that same night he saw her again with me, and he heard what she
said. I asked her to come to the rooms on the next evening--
yesterday, the night of the crime--and her face changed, and she
said, 'No, we have other plans for tomorrow. But the night after I
shall want you.'"
Hanaud sprang up from his chair.
"And YOU tell me these two things!" he cried.
"Yes," said Wethermill. "You were kind enough to say to me I was
not a romantic boy. I am not. I can face facts."
Hanaud stared at his companion for a few moments. Then, with a
remarkable air of consideration, he bowed.
"You have won, monsieur," he said. "I will take up this case.
But," and his face grew stern and he brought his fist down upon
the table with a bang, "I shall follow it to the end now, be the
consequences bitter as death to you."
"That is what I wish, monsieur," said Wethermill.
Hanaud locked up the slips of paper in his lettercase. Then he
went out of the room and returned in a few minutes.
"We will begin at the beginning," he said briskly. "I have
telephoned to the Depot. Perrichet, the sergent-de-ville who
discovered the crime, will be here at once. We will walk down to
the villa with him, and on the way he shall tell us exactly what
he discovered and how he discovered it. At the villa we shall find
Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge d'lnstruction, who has already begun
his examination, and the Commissaire of Police. In company with
them we will inspect the villa. Except for the removal of Mme.
Dauvray's body from the salon to her bedroom and the opening of
the windows, the house remains exactly as it was."