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He stood transfixed. "That we shall see," said Hanaud. He stepped in Perrichet's footsteps to the sill of the room. He examined the green wooden doors which opened outwards, and the glass doors which opened inwards, taking a magnifying-glass from his pocket. He called Besnard to his side. "See!" he said, pointing to the woodwork. "Finger-marks!" asked Besnard eagerly.
He alone seemed to feel no disappointment at Perrichet's oversight. Ricardo was a little touchy on the subject of his personal appearance, and bridled visibly. Hanaud turned towards Servettaz. "Now," he said, "you know how much petrol was taken from the garage?" "Yes, monsieur." "Can you tell me, by the amount which has been used, how far that car was driven last night?" Hanaud asked.
"That is my coat, monsieur," said Servettaz, and as he spoke he lifted it up from the chauffeur's seat. "It is Mme. Dauvray's livery." Harry Wethermill groaned aloud. "We have lost him. He was within our grasp he, the murderer! and he was allowed to go!" Perrichet's grief was pitiable. "Monsieur," he pleaded, "a car slackens its speed and goes on again it is not so unusual a thing.
Perrichet, lock the door quietly from the inside. That is right. Now lean your back against it." Hanaud waited until he saw Perrichet's broad back against the door. Then he went down upon his knees, and, tossing the rugs here and there, examined with the minutest care the inlaid floor. By the side of the bed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread. This in its turn he moved quickly aside.
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