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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Now, when did Mme. Dauvray tell you that you might have Tuesday?" Servettaz hesitated. His face became troubled. When he spoke, he spoke reluctantly. "It was not Mme. Dauvray, monsieur, who told me that I might go on Tuesday," he said. "Not Mme. Dauvray! Who was it, then?" Hanaud asked sharply. Servettaz glanced from one to another of the grave faces which confronted him. "It was Mlle.
A nurse opened the door. Within the room Helene Vauquier was leaning back in a chair. She looked ill, and her face was very white. On the appearance of Hanaud, the Commissaire, and the others, however, she rose to her feet. Ricardo recognised the justice of Hanaud's description.
He had no wish to take the responsibility of the decision upon himself. But Hanaud sat with his eyes strangely fixed upon Ricardo, waiting for his answer. "Well," said Ricardo, at length, "good news will be none the worse for waiting a few hours. Bad news will be a little the better." "Yes," said Hanaud; "so I thought you would decide."
"And you, my friend, I should counsel you to get some sleep. We may need all our strength tomorrow. I hope so." He was speaking very bravely. "Yes, I hope so." Wethermill nodded. "I shall try," he said. "That's better," said Hanaud cheerfully. "You will both stay here this evening; for if I have news, I can then ring you up." Both men agreed, and Hanaud went away. He left Mr.
"Yes, here; at the post office at the telephone exchange. Suppose that the man is in Aix, as he may well be; some time he will wish to send a letter, or a telegram, or a message over the telephone. That, I tell you, is our chance. But here is news for us." Hanaud pointed to a messenger who was walking towards them. The man handed Hanaud an envelope.
The cushion was covered with silk, and as he held it to the sunlight all could see a small brown stain. Hanaud took his magnifying-glass from his pocket and bent his head over the cushion. But at that moment, careful though he had been, the down swelled up within the cushion, the folds and indentations disappeared, the silk covering was stretched smooth. "Oh!" cried Besnard tragically.
She had found some one whom she trusted the big Newfoundland dog, as she expressed it. Mr. Ricardo was still thinking of Celia Harland when the morning came. He fell asleep, and awoke to find Hanaud by his bed. "You will be wanted today," said Hanaud. Ricardo got up and walked down from the hotel with the detective. The front door faces the hillside of Mont Revard, and on this side Mr.
Ricardo cut the stitches of the sacking. Hanaud unstrapped her hands and feet. They helped her to sit up. She shook her hands in the air as though they tortured her, and then, in a piteous, whimpering voice, like a child's, she babbled incoherently and whispered prayers. Suddenly the prayers ceased. She sat stiff, with eyes fixed and staring.
Hanaud, however, did not dismiss the point so lightly. "But it is very possible that it does matter," he said gently. "For example, if Servettaz had had no reason to examine his tins it might have been some while before he found out that the petrol had been taken." "Indeed, yes," said Servettaz. "I might even have forgotten that I had not used it myself."
It ran like this" and Hanaud took a scrap of paper from his pocket and read out from it a copy of the telegram: "'Agent arrives Aix 3.7 to negotiate purchase of your patent. The telegram was handed in at Geneva station at 12.45, five minutes after the train had left which carried Marthe Gobin to Aix. And more, it was handed in by a man strongly resembling Hippolyte Tace that we know."
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