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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Here is a theory which accounts for all, which combines Vauquier's idea with ours, and Vauquier's idea is, I think, very just, up to a point. Suppose, M. Hanaud, that the girl was going to meet her lover, but the lover is the murderer. Then all becomes clear. She does not run away to him; she opens the door for him and lets him in." Both Hanaud and Ricardo stole a glance at Wethermill.
There must be no whisper that these jewels have been discovered; no newspaper must publish a hint of it; no one must suspect that here in this room we have found them. Is that understood?" "Certainly," said the Commissaire. "Yes," said Mr. Ricardo. "To be sure, monsieur," said Perrichet. As for Harry Wethermill, he made no reply. His burning eyes were fixed upon Hanaud's face, and that was all.
Wethermill disappeared; and this time he left the door open. Adele helped Celia to her feet. For a moment she tottered; then she stood firm. "Now run!" whispered Adele. "Run, child, for your life!" Celia did not stop to think whither she should run, or how she should escape from Wethermill's search. She could not ask that her lips and her hands might be freed. She had but a few seconds.
"Ah, yes!" Hanaud agreed. "But it was only sent off at a quarter to one. It was delivered to Wethermill and a copy was sent to the Prefecture, but the telegram was delivered first." "When was it delivered to Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. "At three. We had already left for the station. Wethermill was sitting on the verandah. The telegram was brought to him there.
I knew it was not good for her that she should suffer so much excitement. No, I did not know what to do. And so we all moved to Aix." And there she met Harry Wethermill on the second day after her arrival, and proceeded straightway for the first time to fall in love. To Celia it seemed that at last that had happened for which she had so longed.
We will drive down to the station and see the arrivals by that train. It may help us to get some idea of the person with whom we have to deal. That is always an advantage. Now I will leave you, for I have much to do. But I will look in upon M. Wethermill as I go down and tell him that there is as yet no news." He took up his hat and stick, and stood for a moment staring out of the window.
On the next occasion that the two met, it was again Harry Wethermill who sought Helene Vauquier. He talked for a minute or two upon indifferent subjects, and then he said quickly: "I suppose Mme. Dauvray is very rich?" "She has a great fortune in jewels," said Helene Vauquier. Wethermill started. He was agitated that evening, the woman saw. His hands shook, his face twitched.
She had one thought to hide herself in the darkness of the garden. Celia fled across the room, sprang wildly over the sill, ran, tripped over her skirt, steadied herself, and was swung off the ground by the arms of Harry Wethermill. "There we are," he said, with his shrill, wavering laugh. "I opened the gate before." And suddenly Celia hung inert in his arms. The light went out in the salon.
"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.
Celie wear them last night?" He leaned forward, waiting for her reply. Wethermill too, made a movement. Both men evidently thought the point of great importance. The maid looked at Hanaud for a few moments without speaking. "It is not from me, mademoiselle, that you will get the answer," said Hanaud quietly. "No, monsieur. I was thinking," said the maid, her face flushing at the rebuke.
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