Ricardo read through the paragraph with a growing consternation,
and laid the paper upon his dressing-table.
"It is infamous," cried Wethermill passionately.
"The young Englishwoman is, I suppose, your friend Miss Celia?"
said Ricardo slowly.
Wethermill started forward.
"You know her, then?" he cried in amazement.
"No; but I saw her with you in the rooms. I heard you call her by
that name."
"You saw us together?" exclaimed Wethermill. "Then you can
understand how infamous the suggestion is."
But Ricardo had seen the girl half an hour before he had seen her
with Harry Wethermill. He could not but vividly remember the
picture of her as she flung herself on to the bench in the garden
in a moment of hysteria, and petulantly kicked a satin slipper
backwards and forwards against the stones. She was young, she was
pretty, she had a charm of freshness, but--but--strive against it
as he would, this picture in the recollection began more and more
to wear a sinister aspect. He remembered some words spoken by a
stranger. "She is pretty, that little one. It is regrettable that
she has lost."
Mr. Ricardo arranged his tie with even a greater deliberation than
he usually employed.
"And Mme. Dauvray?" he asked. "She was the stout woman with whom
your young friend went away?"
"Yes," said Wethermill.
Ricardo turned round from the mirror.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Hanaud is at Aix. He is the cleverest of the French detectives.
You know him. He dined with you once."
It was Mr. Ricardo's practice to collect celebrities round his
dinner-table, and at one such gathering Hanaud and Wethermill had
been present together.
"You wish me to approach him?"
"At once."
"It is a delicate position," said Ricardo. "Here is a man in
charge of a case of murder, and we are quietly to go to him--"
To his relief Wethermill interrupted him.
"No, no," he cried; "he is not in charge of the case. He is on his
holiday. I read of his arrival two days ago in the newspaper. It
was stated that he came for rest. What I want is that he should
take charge of the case."
The superb confidence of Wethermill shook Mr. Ricardo for a
moment, but his recollections were too clear.
"You are going out of your way to launch the acutest of French
detectives in search of this girl. Are you wise, Wethermill?"