Hanaud walked away from the Villa Rose in the company of
Wethermill and Ricardo.
"We will go and lunch," he said.
"Yes; come to my hotel," said Harry Wethermill. But Hanaud shook
his head.
"No; come with me to the Villa des Fleurs," he replied. "We may
learn something there; and in a case like this every minute is of
importance. We have to be quick."
"I may come too?" cried Mr. Ricardo eagerly.
"By all means," replied Hanaud, with a smile of extreme courtesy.
"Nothing could be more delicious than monsieur's suggestions"; and
with that remark he walked on silently.
Mr. Ricardo was in a little doubt as to the exact significance of
the words. But he was too excited to dwell long upon them.
Distressed though he sought to be at his friend's grief, he could
not but assume an air of importance. All the artist in him rose
joyfully to the occasion. He looked upon himself from the outside.
He fancied without the slightest justification that people were
pointing him out. "That man has been present at the investigation
at the Villa Rose," he seemed to hear people say. "What strange
things he could tell us if he would!"
And suddenly, Mr. Ricardo began to reflect. What, after all, could
he have told them?
And that question he turned over in his mind while he ate his
luncheon. Hanaud wrote a letter between the courses. They were
sitting at a corner table, and Hanaud was in the corner with his
back to the wall. He moved his plate, too, over the letter as he
wrote it. It would have been impossible for either of his guests
to see what he had written, even if they had wished. Ricardo,
indeed, did wish. He rather resented the secrecy with which the
detective, under a show of openness, shrouded his thoughts and
acts. Hanaud sent the waiter out to fetch an officer in plain
clothes, who was in attendance at the door, and he handed the
letter to this man. Then he turned with an apology to his guests.
"It is necessary that we should find out," he explained, "as soon
as possible, the whole record of Mlle. Celie."
He lighted a cigar, and over the coffee he put a question to
Ricardo.
"Now tell me what you make of the case. What M. Wethermill thinks-
-that is clear, is it not? Helene Vauquier is the guilty one. But
you, M. Ricardo? What is your opinion?"
Ricardo took from his pocket-book a sheet of paper and from his
pocket a pencil. He was intensely flattered by the request of
Hanaud, and he proposed to do himself justice. "I will make a note
here of what I think the salient features of the mystery"; and he
proceeded to tabulate the points in the following way: (1) Celia Harland made her entrance into Mme. Dauvray's household
under very doubtful circumstances.