Mr. Ricardo nodded his head.
"I know now," he said. "You told me. The earrings of Mlle. Celie.
But I should not have guessed it at the time."
"Nor could I--at the time," said Hanaud. "I kept my open mind
about Helene Vauquier; but I locked the door and took the key.
Then we went and heard Vauquier's story. The story was clever,
because so much of it was obviously, indisputably true. The
account of the seances, of Mme. Dauvray's superstitions, her
desire for an interview with Mme. de Montespan--such details are
not invented. It was interesting, too, to know that there had been
a seance planned for that night! The method of the murder began to
be clear. So far she spoke the truth. But then she lied. Yes, she
lied, and it was a bad lie, my friend. She told us that the
strange woman Adele had black hair. Now I carried in my pocket-
book proof that that woman's hair was red. Why did she lie, except
to make impossible the identification of that strange visitor?
That was the first false step taken by Helene Vauquier.
"Now let us take the second. I thought nothing of her rancour
against Mlle. Celie. To me it was all very natural. She--the hard
peasant woman no longer young, who had been for years the
confidential servant of Mme. Dauvray, and no doubt had taken her
levy from the impostors who preyed upon her credulous mistress--
certainly she would hate this young and pretty outcast whom she
has to wait upon, whose hair she has to dress. Vauquier--she would
hate her. But if by any chance she were in the plot--and the lie
seemed to show she was--then the seances showed me new
possibilities. For Helene used to help Mlle. Celie. Suppose that
the seance had taken place, that this sceptical visitor with the
red hair professed herself dissatisfied with Vauquier's method of
testing the medium, had suggested another way, Mlle. Celie could
not object, and there she would be neatly and securely packed up
beyond the power of offering any resistance, before she could have
a suspicion that things were wrong. It would be an easy little
comedy to play. And if that were true--why, there were my sofa
cushions partly explained."
"Yes, I see!" cried Ricardo, with enthusiasm. "You are wonderful."
Hanaud was not displeased with his companion's enthusiasm.
"But wait a moment. We have only conjectures so far, and one fact
that Helene Vauquier lied about the colour of the strange woman's
hair. Now we get another fact. Mlle. Celie was wearing buckles on
her shoes. And there is my slit in the sofa cushions. For when she
is flung on to the sofa, what will she do? She will kick, she will
struggle. Of course it is conjecture. I do not as yet hold
pigheadedly to it. I am not yet sure that Mlle. Celie is innocent.
I am willing at any moment to admit that the facts contradict my
theory. But, on the contrary, each fact that I discover helps it
to take shape.