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Updated: June 25, 2025
"But Celia Harland is not one of those women." "I do not now say that she is," said Hanaud. "But the Juge d'lnstruction here has already sent to me to ask for my assistance, and I refused. I replied that I was just a good bourgeois enjoying his holiday. Still it is difficult quite to forget one's profession.
"We must not yet lose heart, for we know a little more about the woman than we do about the man," said Hanaud consolingly. "True," exclaimed Ricardo. "We have Helene Vauquier's description of her. We must advertise it." Hanaud smiled. "But that is a fine suggestion," he cried. "We must think over that," and he clapped his hand to his forehead with a gesture of self-reproach.
So Ricardo sat and talked with her while Hanaud ran back into the restaurant. It mattered very little, however, what he said, for Celia's eyes were fixed upon the doorway through which Hanaud had disappeared. And when he came back she was quick to turn the handle of the door.
"You will find no jealousy here; no spirit amongst us of anything but good will; no desire except one to carry out your suggestions. All we wish is that the murderers should be discovered. Mon Dieu, what a crime! And so young a girl to be involved in it! But what will you?" "So you have already made your mind up on that point!" said Hanaud sharply. The Commissaire shrugged his shoulders.
"You will not, mademoiselle," said Hanaud, with a laugh. "Will you take your foot back into that car? That is better. Now you will sit with your friend, M. Ricardo, whom, by the way, I have not yet introduced to you. He is a very good friend of yours, mademoiselle, and will in the future be a still better one."
"At luncheon, before the news came that the car was found, you had guessed it." "It was a shot," said Hanaud. "The absence of the car helped me to make it. It is a large city and not very far away, a likely place for people with the police at their heels to run to earth in. But if the car had been discovered in the garage I should not have made that shot.
Rossignol is five or six years older, I should think a tall woman, with red hair and a bold sort of coarse beauty. I was not attracted by her. She seemed not quite of the same world as that charming monsieur who was said to be going to marry her. No; I was not attracted by Adele Rossignol." And when he had come to that point Hanaud looked up with a start. "So the name was Adele," he whispered.
Celie. But I should not have guessed it at the time." "Nor could I at the time," said Hanaud. "I kept my open mind about Helene Vauquier; but I locked the door and took the key. Then we went and heard Vauquier's story. The story was clever, because so much of it was obviously, indisputably true. The account of the seances, of Mme.
"Surely, monsieur, it would be well to know whither she is going," he said, "and to make sure that when she has gone there she will stay there until we want her again?" Hanaud looked at the young man pityingly. "I can understand, monsieur, that you hold strong views about Helene Vauquier. You are human, like the rest of us. And what she has said to us just now would not make you more friendly.
He will strike a match to light his pipe." The hurried conversation was ended. "Good," said Hanaud. "We will dine, then, and be gay." He called to the waiter and ordered dinner. It was after seven when they sat down to dinner, and they dined while the dusk deepened. In the street below the lights flashed out, throwing a sheen on the foliage of the trees at the water's side.
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