At The Villa Rose

Wethermill sprang up from his chair in desperation.

"You, too, think her guilty! You have seen her. You think her

guilty--like this detestable newspaper, like the police."

"Like the police?" asked Ricardo sharply.

"Yes," said Harry Wethermill sullenly. "As soon as I saw that rag

I ran down to the villa. The police are in possession. They would

not let me into the garden. But I talked with one of them. They,

too, think that she let in the murderers."

Ricardo took a turn across the room. Then he came to a stop in

front of Wethermill.

"Listen to me," he said solemnly. "I saw this girl half an hour

before I saw you. She rushed out into the garden. She flung

herself on to a bench. She could not sit still. She was

hysterical. You know what that means. She had been losing. That's

point number one."

Mr. Ricardo ticked it off upon his finger.

"She ran back into the rooms. You asked her to share the winnings

of your bank. She consented eagerly. And you lost. That's point

number two. A little later, as she was going away, you asked her

whether she would be in the rooms the next night--yesterday night-

-the night when the murder was committed. Her face clouded over.

She hesitated. She became more than grave. There was a distinct

impression as though she shrank from the contemplation of what it

was proposed she should do on the next night. And then she

answered you, 'No, we have other plans.' That's number three." And

Mr. Ricardo ticked off his third point.

"Now," he asked, "do you still ask me to launch Hanaud upon the

case?"

"Yes, and at once," cried Wethermill.

Ricardo called for his hat and his stick.

"You know where Hanaud is staying?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Wethermill, and he led Ricardo to an unpretentious

little hotel in the centre of the town. Ricardo sent in his name,

and the two visitors were immediately shown into a small sitting-

room, where M. Hanaud was enjoying his morning chocolate. He was

stout and broad-shouldered, with a full and almost heavy face. In

his morning suit at his breakfast-table he looked like a

prosperous comedian.

He came forward with a smile of welcome, extending both his hands

to Mr. Ricardo.

"Ah, my good friend," he said, "it is pleasant to see you. And Mr.

Wethermill," he exclaimed, holding a hand out to the young

inventor.