Whilst I took off mademoiselle's dress," Vauquier continued, "she
said: 'When I have gone down to the salon you can go to bed, Helene.
Mme. Adele'--yes, it was Adele--'will be fetched by a friend in a
motorcar, and I can let her out and fasten the door again. So if you
hear the car you will know that it has come for her.'"

"Oh, she said that!" said Hanaud quickly.

"Yes, monsieur."

Hanaud looked gloomily towards Wethermill. Then he exchanged a sharp
glance with the Commissaire, and moved his shoulders in an almost
imperceptible shrug. But Mr. Ricardo saw it, and construed it into one
word. He imagined a jury uttering the word "Guilty."

Helene Vauquier saw the movement too.

"Do not condemn her too quickly, monsieur," she, said, with an impulse
of remorse. "And not upon my words. For, as I say, I--hated her."

Hanaud nodded reassuringly, and she resumed:

"I was surprised, and I asked mademoiselle what she would do without
her confederate. But she laughed, and said there would be no
difficulty. That is partly why I think there was no seance held last
night. Monsieur, there was a note in her voice that evening which I did
not as yet understand. Mademoiselle then took her bath while I laid out
her black dress and the slippers with the soft, noiseless soles. And
now I tell you why I am sure there was no seance last night--why Mlle.
Celie never meant there should be one."

"Yes, let us hear that," said Hanaud curiously, and leaning forward
with his hands upon his knees.

"You have here, monsieur, a description of how mademoiselle was dressed
when she went away." Helene Vauquier picked up a sheet of paper from
the table at her side. "I wrote it out at the request of M. le
Commissaire." She handed the paper to Hanaud, who glanced through it as
she continued. "Well, except for the white lace coat, monsieur, I
dressed Mlle. Celie just in that way. She would have none of her plain
black robe. No, Mlle. Celie must wear her fine new evening frock of
pale reseda-green chiffon over soft clinging satin, which set off her
fair beauty so prettily. It left her white arms and shoulders bare, and
it had a long train, and it rustled as she moved. And with that she
must put on her pale green silk stockings, her new little satin
slippers to match, with the large paste buckles--and a sash of green
satin looped through another glittering buckle at the side of the
waist, with long ends loosely knotted together at the knee. I must ti