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Updated: June 16, 2025
It was a spiritualistic performance at which Julius Ricardo had been present two years ago. The young, fair-haired girl in black velvet, the medium, was Celia Harland. That was the picture which was in Ricardo's mind, and Hanaud's description of Mme. Dauvray made a terrible commentary upon it. "Easily taken by a new face, generous, and foolishly superstitious, a living provocation to every rogue."
Camille Dauvray, an elderly, rich woman who was well known at Aix, and had occupied the villa every summer for the last few years, was discovered on the floor of her salon, fully dressed and brutally strangled, while upstairs, her maid, Helene Vauquier, was found in bed, chloroformed, with her hands tied securely behind her back.
The windows and the glass doors were closed, the latticed shutters fastened. A light burned in the hall. "Helene is expecting us," said Mme. Dauvray, for as they approached she saw the front door open to admit them, and Helene Vauquier in the doorway. The three women went straight into the little salon, which was ready with the lights up and a small fire burning.
But even while he spoke he soon caught sight of Mme. Dauvray standing by one of the tables; and near to her was Adele Tace. Adele had not yet made Mme. Dauvray's acquaintance; that was evident. She was apparently unaware of her; but she was gradually edging towards her. Wethermill smiled, and Celia caught the smile. "What is it?" she asked, and her head began to turn in the direction of Mme.
Inside the recess, against one of the pillars which supported the arch, a high stool without a back, taken from the hall, had been placed, and the back legs of the stool had been lashed with cord firmly to the pillar, so that it could not be moved. The round table had been put in position, with three chairs about it. Mme. Dauvray waited impatiently.
She had her victims safe within the villa. The charwoman had been sent home. She had them to herself. She was still standing in the hall when Mme. Dauvray called aloud impatiently: "Helene! Helene!" And when she entered the salon there was still, as Celia was able to recall, some trace of her smile lingering upon her face. Adele Rossignol had removed her hat and was taking off her gloves. Mme.
She the hard peasant woman no longer young, who had been for years the confidential servant of Mme. Dauvray, and no doubt had taken her levy from the impostors who preyed upon her credulous mistress certainly she would hate this young and pretty outcast whom she has to wait upon, whose hair she has to dress. Vauquier she would hate her.
After an arrangement about the bust, the horses, champing before the doors, bear the elders to the Bois, now beginning to abandon its battle-field appearance. Long is their conference on that ride. Pere Francois is thoughtful, as he spends his evening hour at dominoes with Aristide Dauvray. His eyes stray to fair Louise, busied with her needie.
Celie between Mme. Dauvray and myself. But in that case the lights would be turned out first, and it would be really my hand which held Mme. Dauvray's.
When?" "At twenty-five minutes past ten," replied the clerk shortly. "Ah," said Hanaud quietly. "That was my telephone message." Ricardo stared in stupefaction at his companion. "Arrested!" he cried. "Arrested! But what for?" "For the murders of Marthe Gobin and Mme. Dauvray," said Hanaud. "Good-night." Ricardo passed a most tempestuous night. He was tossed amongst dark problems.
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