At The Villa Rose

(2) By methods still more doubtful she accquired an extraordinary

ascendency over Mme. Dauvray's mind.

(3) If proof were needed how complete that ascendency was, a

glance at Celia Harland's wardrobe would suffice; for she wore the

most expensive clothes.

(4) It was Celia Harland who arranged that Servettaz, the

chauffeur, should be absent at Chambery on the Tuesday night--the

night of the murder.

(5) It was Celia Harland who bought the cord with which Mme.

Dauvray was strangled and Helene Vauquier bound.

(6) The footsteps outside the salon show that Celia Harland ran

from the salon to the motor-car.

(7) Celia Harland pretended that there should be a seance on the

Tuesday, but she dressed as though she had in view an appointment

with a lover, instead of a spiritualistic stance.

(8) Celia Harland has disappeared.

These eight points are strongly suggestive of Celia Harland's

complicity in the murder. But I have no clue which will enable me

to answer the following questions: (a) Who was the man who took part in the crime? (b) Who was the

woman who came to the villa on the evening of the murder with Mme.

Dauvray and Celia Harland?

(c) What actually happened in the salon? How was the murder

committed?

(d) Is Helene Vauquier's story true?

(e) What did the torn-up scrap of writing mean? (Probably spirit

writing in Celia Harland's hand.) (f) Why has one cushion on the settee a small, fresh, brown stain,

which is probably blood? Why is the other cushion torn?

Mr. Ricardo had a momentary thought of putting down yet another

question. He was inclined to ask whether or no a pot of cold cream

had disappeared from Celia Harland's bedroom; but he remembered

that Hanaud had set no store upon that incident, and he refrained.

Moreover, he had come to the end of his sheet of paper. He handed

it across the table to Hanaud and leaned back in his chair,

watching the detective with all the eagerness of a young author

submitting his first effort to a critic.

Hanaud read it through slowly. At the end he nodded his head in

approval.

"Now we will see what M. Wethermill has to say," he said, and he

stretched out the paper towards Harry Wethermill, who throughout

the luncheon had not said a word.

"No, no," cried Ricardo.

But Harry Wethermill already held the written sheet in his hand.

He smiled rather wistfully at his friend.

"It is best that I should know just what you both think," he said,

and in his turn he began to read the paper through. He read the

first eight points, and then beat with his fist upon the table.

"No no," he cried; "it is not possible! I don't blame you,

Ricardo. These are facts, and, as I said, I can face facts. But

there will be an explanation--if only we can discover it."