CHAPTER VII
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
Harry Wethermill, however, was not so easily satisfied.
"Surely, monsieur, it would be well to know whither she is going," hesaid, "and to make sure that when she has gone there she will staythere--until we want her again?"
Hanaud looked at the young man pityingly.
"I can understand, monsieur, that you hold strong views about HeleneVauquier. You are human, like the rest of us. And what she has said tous just now would not make you more friendly. But--but--" and hepreferred to shrug his shoulders rather than to finish in words hissentence. "However," he said, "we shall take care to know where HeleneVauquier is staying. Indeed, if she is at all implicated in this affairwe shall learn more if we leave her free than if we keep her under lockand key. You see that if we leave her quite free, but watch her very,very carefully, so as to awaken no suspicion, she may be emboldened todo something rash--or the others may."
Mr. Ricardo approved of Hanaud's reasoning.
"That is quite true," he said. "She might write a letter."
"Yes, or receive one," added Hanaud, "which would be still moresatisfactory for us--supposing, of course, that she has anything to dowith this affair"; and again he shrugged his shoulders. He turnedtowards the Commissaire.
"You have a discreet officer whom you can trust?" he asked.
"Certainly. A dozen."
"I want only one."
"And here he is," said the Commissaire.
They were descending the stairs. On the landing of the first floorDurette, the man who had discovered where the cord was bought, wasstill waiting. Hanaud took Durette by the sleeve in the familiar waywhich he so commonly used and led him to the top of the stairs, wherethe two men stood for a few moments apart. It was plain that Hanaud wasgiving, Durette receiving, definite instructions. Durette descended thestairs; Hanaud came back to the others.
"I have told him to fetch a cab," he said, "and convey Helene Vauquierto her friends." Then he looked at Ricardo, and from Ricardo to theCommissaire, while he rubbed his hand backwards and forwards across hisshaven chin.
"I tell you," he said, "I find this sinister little drama veryinteresting to me. The sordid, miserable struggle for mastery in thishousehold of Mme. Dauvray--eh? Yes, very interesting. Just as muchpatience, just as much effort, just as much planning for this small endas a general uses to defeat an army--and, at the last, nothing gained.What else is politics? Yes, very interesting."
His eyes rested upon Wethermill's face for a moment, but they gave theyoung man no hope. He took a key from his pocket.
"We need not keep this room locked," he said. "We know all that thereis to be known." And he inserted the key into the lock of Celia's roomand turned it.
"But is that wise, monsieur?" said Besnard.
Hanaud shrugged his shoulders.
"Why not?" he asked.
"The case is in your hands," said the Commissaire. To Ricardo theproceedings seemed singularly irregular. But if the Commissaire wascontent, it was not for him to object.
"And where is my excellent friend Perrichet?" asked Hanaud; and leaningover the balustrade he called him up from the hall.
"We will now," said Hanaud, "have a glance into this poor murderedwoman's room."
The room was opposite to Celia's. Besnard produced the key and unlockedthe door. Hanaud took off his hat upon the threshold and then passedinto the room with his companions. Upon the bed, outlined under asheet, lay the rigid form of Mme. Dauvray. Hanaud stepped gently to thebedside and reverently uncovered the face. For a moment all could seeit--livid, swollen, unhuman.
"A brutal business," he said in a low voice, and when he turned againto his companions his face was white and sickly. He replaced the sheetand gazed about the room.
It was decorated and furnished in the same style as the salondownstairs, yet the contrast between the two rooms was remarkable.
Downstairs, in the salon, only a chair had been overturned. Here therewas every sign of violence and disorder. An empty safe stood open inone corner; the rugs upon the polished floor had been tossed aside;every drawer had been torn open, every wardrobe burst; the very bed hadbeen moved from its position.
"It was in this safe that Madame Dauvray hid her jewels each night,"said the Commissaire as Hanaud gazed about the room.
"Oh, was it so?" Hanaud asked slowly. It seemed to Ricardo that he readsomething in the aspect of this room too, which troubled his mind andincreased his perplexity.
"Yes," said Besnard confidently. "Every night Mme. Dauvray locked herjewels away in this safe. Vauquier told us so this morning. Every nightshe was never too tired for that. Besides, here"--and putting his handinto the safe he drew out a paper--"here is the list of Mme. Dauvray'sjewellery."
Plainly, however, Hanaud was not satisfied. He took the list andglanced through the items. But his thoughts were not concerned with it.
"If that is so," he said slowly, "Mme. Dauvray kept her jewels in thissafe, why has every drawer been ransacked, why was the bed moved?Perrichet, lock the door--quietly--from the inside. That is right. Nowlean 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 thebed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread. This in its turn he movedquickly aside. He bent his eyes to the ground, lay prone, moved thisway and that to catch the light upon the floor, then with a spring herose upon his knees. He lifted his finger to his lips. In a deadsilence he drew a pen-knife quickly from his pocket and opened it. Hebent down again and inserted the blade between the cracks of theblocks. The three men in the room watched him with an intenseexcitement. A block of wood rose from the floor, he pulled it out, laidit noiselessly down, and inserted his hand into the opening.
Wethermill at Ricardo's elbow uttered a stifled cry. "Hush!" whisperedHanaud angrily. He drew out his hand again. It was holding a greenleather jewel-case. He opened it, and a diamond necklace flashed itsthousand colours in their faces. He thrust in his hand again and againand again, and each time that he withdrew it, it held a jewel-case.Before the astonished eyes of his companions he opened them. Ropes ofpearls, collars of diamonds, necklaces of emeralds, rings ofpigeon-blood rubies, bracelets of gold studded with opals--Mme.Dauvray's various jewellery was disclosed.
"But that is astounding," said Besnard, in an awe-struck voice.
"Then she was never robbed after all?" cried Ricardo.
Hanaud rose to his feet.
"What a piece of irony!" he whispered. "The poor woman is murdered forher jewels, the room's turned upside down, and nothing is found. Forall the while they lay safe in this cache. Nothing is taken except whatshe wore. Let us see what she wore."
"Only a few rings, Helene Vauquier thought," said Besnard. "But she wasnot sure."
"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Well, let us make sure!" and, taking the list fromthe safe, he compared it with the jewellery in the cases on the floor,ticking off the items one by one. When he had finished he knelt downagain, and, thrusting his hand into the hole, felt carefully about.
"There is a pearl necklace missing," he said. "A valuable necklace,from the description in the list and some rings. She must have beenwearing them;" and he sat back upon his heels. "We will send theintelligent Perrichet for a bag," he said, "and we will counsel theintelligent Perrichet not to breathe a word to any living soul of whathe has seen in this room. Then we will seal up in the bag the jewels,and we will hand it over to M. le Commissaire, who will convey it withthe greatest secrecy out of this villa. For the list--I will keep it,"and he placed it carefully in his pocket-book.
He unlocked the door and went out himself on to the landing. He lookeddown the stairs and up the stairs; then he beckoned Perrichet to him.
"Go!" he whispered. "Be quick, and when you come back hide the bagcarefully under your coat."
Perrichet went down the stairs with pride writt
en upon his face. Was henot assisting the great M. Hanaud from the Surete in Paris? Hanaudreturned into Mme. Dauvray's room and closed the door. He looked intothe eyes of his companions.
"Can't you see the scene?" he asked with a queer smile of excitement.He had forgotten Wethermill; he had forgotten even the dead womanshrouded beneath the sheet. He was absorbed. His eyes were bright, hiswhole face vivid with life. Ricardo saw the real man at thismoment--and feared for the happiness of Harry Wethermill. For nothingwould Hanaud now turn aside until he had reached the truth and set hishands upon the quarry. Of that Ricardo felt sure. He was trying now tomake his companions visualise just what he saw and understood.
"Can't you see it? The old woman locking up her jewels in this safeevery night before the eyes of her maid or her companion, and then, assoon as she was alone, taking them stealthily out of the safe andhiding them in this secret place. But I tell you--this is human. Yes,it is interesting just because it is so human. Then picture toyourselves last night, the murderers opening this safe and findingnothing--oh, but nothing!--and ransacking the room in deadly haste,kicking up the rugs, forcing open the drawers, and always findingnothing--nothing--nothing. Think of their rage, their stupefaction, andfinally their fear! They must go, and with one pearl necklace, whenthey had hoped to reap a great fortune. Oh, but this isinteresting--yes, I tell you--I, who have seen many strangethings--this is interesting."
Perrichet returned with a canvas bag, into which Hanaud placed thejewel-cases. He sealed the bag in the presence of the four men andhanded it to Besnard. He replaced the block of wood in the floor,covered it over again with the rug, and rose to his feet.
"Listen!" he said, in a low voice, and with a gravity which impressedthem all. "There is something in this house which I do not understand.I have told you so. I tell you something more now. I am afraid--I amafraid." And the word startled his hearers like a thunderclap, thoughit was breathed no louder than a whisper, "Yes, my friends," herepeated, nodding his head, "terribly afraid." And upon the others fella discomfort, an awe, as though something sinister and dangerous werepresent in the room and close to them. So vivid was the feeling,instinctively they drew nearer together. "Now, I warn you solemnly.There must be no whisper that these jewels have been discovered; nonewspaper must publish a hint of it; no one must suspect that here inthis 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 fixedupon Hanaud's face, and that was all. Hanaud, for his part, asked forno reply from him. Indeed, he did not look towards Harry Wethermill'sface at all. Ricardo understood. Hanaud did not mean to be deterred bythe suffering written there.
He went down again into the little gay salon lit with flowers andAugust sunlight, and stood beside the couch gazing at it with troubledeyes. And, as he gazed, he closed his eyes and shivered. He shiveredlike a man who has taken a sudden chill. Nothing in all this morning'sinvestigations, not even the rigid body beneath the sheet, nor thestrange discovery of the jewels, had so impressed Ricardo. For there hehad been confronted with facts, definite and complete; here was asuggestion of unknown horrors, a hint, not a fact, compelling theimagination to dark conjecture. Hanaud shivered. That he had no ideawhy Hanaud shivered made the action still more significant, still morealarming. And it was not Ricardo alone who was moved by it. A voice ofdespair rang through the room. The voice was Harry Wethermill's, andhis face was ashy white.
"Monsieur!" he cried, "I do not know what makes you shudder; but I amremembering a few words you used this morning."
Hanaud turned upon his heel. His face was drawn and grey and his eyesblazed.
"My friend, I also am remembering those words," he said. Thus the twomen stood confronting one another, eye to eye, with awe and fear inboth their faces.
Ricardo was wondering to what words they both referred, when the soundof wheels broke in upon the silence. The effect upon Hanaud wasmagical. He thrust his hands in his pockets.
"Helene Vauquier's cab," he said lightly. He drew out hiscigarette-case and lighted a cigarette.
"Let us see that poor woman safely off. It is a closed cab I hope."
It was a closed landau. It drove past the open door of the salon to thefront door of the house. In Hanaud's wake they all went out into thehall. The nurse came down alone carrying Helene Vauquier's bag. Sheplaced it in the cab and waited in the doorway.
"Perhaps Helene Vauquier has fainted," she said anxiously: "she doesnot come." And she moved towards the stairs.
Hanaud took a singularly swift step forward and stopped her.
"Why should you think that?" he asked, with a queer smile upon hisface, and as he spoke a door closed gently upstairs. "See," hecontinued, "you are wrong: she is coming."
Ricardo was puzzled. It had seemed to him that the door which hadclosed so gently was nearer than Helene Vauquier's door. It seemed tohim that the door was upon the first, not the second landing. ButHanaud had noticed nothing strange; so it could not be. He greetedHelene Vauquier with a smile as she came down the stairs.
"You are better, mademoiselle," he said politely. "One can see that.There is more colour in your cheeks. A day or two, and you will beyourself again."
He held the door open while she got into the cab. The nurse took herseat beside her; Durette mounted on the box. The cab turned and wentdown the drive.
"Goodbye, mademoiselle," cried Hanaud, and he watched until the highshrubs hid the cab from his eyes. Then he behaved in an extraordinaryway. He turned and sprang like lightning up the stairs. His agilityamazed Ricardo. The others followed upon his heels. He flung himself atCelia's door and opened it He burst into the room, stood for a second,then ran to the window. He hid behind the curtain, looking out. Withhis hand he waved to his companions to keep back. The sound of wheelscreaking and rasping rose to their ears. The cab had just come out intothe road. Durette upon the box turned and looked towards the house.Just for a moment Hanaud leaned from the window, as Besnard, theCommissaire, had done, and, like Besnard again, he waved his hand. Thenhe came back into the room and saw, standing in front of him, with hismouth open and his eyes starting out of his head, Perrichet--theintelligent Perrichet.
"Monsieur," cried Perrichet, "something has been taken from this room."
Hanaud looked round the room and shook his head.
"No," he said.
"But yes, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "Oh, but yes. See! Upon thisdressing-table there was a small pot of cold cream. It stood here,where my finger is, when we were in this room an hour ago. Now it isgone."
Hanaud burst into a laugh.
"My friend Perrichet," he said ironically, "I will tell you thenewspaper did not do you justice. You are more intelligent. The truth,my excellent friend, lies at the bottom of a well; but you would findit at the bottom of a pot of cold cream. Now let us go. For in thishouse, gentlemen, we have nothing more to do."
He passed out of the room. Perrichet stood aside, his face crimson, hisattitude one of shame. He had been rebuked by the great M. Hanaud, andjustly rebuked. He knew it now. He had wished to display hisintelligence--yes, at all costs he must show how intelligent he was.And he had shown himself a fool. He should have kept silence about thatpot of cream.