At The Villa Rose

"Between eleven and twelve? Is that sure?" asked Besnard.

"Certainly," replied Hanaud. "The gate is open at eleven, and

Perrichet closes it. It is open again at twelve. Therefore the

murderers had not gone before eleven. No; the gate was open for

them to go, but they had not gone. Else why should the gate again

be open at midnight?"

Besnard nodded in assent, and suddenly Perrichet started forward,

with his eyes full of horror.

"Then, when I first closed the gate," he cried, "and came into the

garden and up to the house they were here--in that room? Oh, my

God!" He stared at the window, with his mouth open.

"I am afraid, my friend, that is so," said Hanaud gravely.

"But I knocked upon the wooden door, I tried the bolts; and they

were within--in the darkness within, holding their breath not

three yards from me."

He stood transfixed.

"That we shall see," said Hanaud.

He stepped in Perrichet's footsteps to the sill of the room. He

examined the green wooden doors which opened outwards, and the

glass doors which opened inwards, taking a magnifying-glass from

his pocket. He called Besnard to his side.

"See!" he said, pointing to the woodwork.

"Finger-marks!" asked Besnard eagerly.

"Yes; of hands in gloves," returned Hanaud. "We shall learn

nothing from these marks except that the assassins knew their

trade."

Then he stooped down to the sill, where some traces of steps were

visible. He rose with a gesture of resignation.

"Rubber shoes," he said, and so stepped into the room, followed by

Wethermill and the others. They found themselves in a small recess

which was panelled with wood painted white, and here and there

delicately carved into festoons of flowers. The recess ended in an

arch, supported by two slender pillars, and on the inner side of

the arch thick curtains of pink silk were hung. These were drawn

back carelessly, and through the opening between them the party

looked down the length of the room beyond. They passed within.