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"Be quick, and when you come back hide the bag carefully under your coat." Perrichet went down the stairs with pride written upon his face. Was he not assisting the great M. Hanaud from the Surete in Paris? Hanaud returned into Mme. Dauvray's room and closed the door. He looked into the eyes of his companions. "Can't you see the scene?" he asked with a queer smile of excitement.
Dauvray's jewels," said Ricardo at once. "No, my friend," answered Hanaud. "That made them keep Mlle. Celie alive. It enabled us to save her when we had discovered the whereabouts of the gang. It did not help us very much to lay our hands upon them. No; the little accident which happened was the entrance of our friend Perrichet into the garden while the murderers were still in the room.
"Was any one inside the car?" asked Hanaud. "No, monsieur; it was empty." "But you saw the driver!" exclaimed Wethermill. "Yes; what was he like?" cried the Commissaire. Perrichet shook his head mournfully. "He wore a talc mask over the upper part of his face, and had a little black moustache, and was dressed in a heavy great-coat of blue with a white collar."
The four men descended the stairs, and as they walked towards the villa Perrichet related, concisely and clearly, his experience of the night. "I passed the gate of the villa about half-past nine," he said. "The gate was dosed. Above the wall and bushes of the garden I saw a bright light in the room upon the first floor which faces the road at the south-western comer of the villa.
But if the Commissaire was content, it was not for him to object. "And where is my excellent friend Perrichet?" asked Hanaud; and leaning over the balustrade he called him up from the hall. "We will now," said Hanaud, "have a glance into this poor murdered woman's room." The room was opposite to Celia's. Besnard produced the key and unlocked the door.
Those were the words, and here was a beautiful girl of twenty versed in those very tricks of imposture which would make Mme. Dauvray her natural prey! Ricardo looked at Wethermill, doubtful whether he should tell what he knew of Celia Harland or not. But before he had decided a knock came upon the door. "Here is Perrichet," said Hanaud, taking up his hat. "We will go down to the Villa Rose."
"I have telephoned to the Depot. Perrichet, the sergent-de-ville who discovered the crime, will be here at once. We will walk down to the villa with him, and on the way he shall tell us exactly what he discovered and how he discovered it. At the villa we shall find Monsieur Fleuriot, the Juge d'lnstruction, who has already begun his examination, and the Commissaire of Police.
Do you remember what she said a black-haired woman with beady eyes; and I only five minutes before had picked up from the table this." He opened his pocket-book, and took from an envelope a long strand of red hair. "But it was not only because she lied that I had her taken to the depot. A pot of cold cream had disappeared from the room of Mlle Celie." "Then Perrichet after all was right."
"And the window from which he looked," said Hanaud, "must be the window of that room in which you saw the bright light at half-past nine on your first round?" "Yes, m'sieur," said Perrichet; "that is the window." They stopped at the gate. Perrichet spoke to the sergent-de-ville, who at once held the gate open. The party passed into the garden of the villa.
A few paces away a knot of people stood before a gate which a sergent-de-ville guarded. "But here we are at the villa," said Hanaud. They all looked up and, from a window at the corner upon the first floor a man looked out and drew in his head. "That is M. Besnard, the Commissaire of our police in Aix," said Perrichet.
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