have taken the trouble to find out, is grey. It is therefore from the
head of our unknown woman. And I will tell you more. This woman with
the red hair--she is in Geneva."
A startled exclamation burst from Ricardo. Harry Wethermill sat slowly
down. For the first time that day there had come some colour into his
cheeks, a sparkle into his eye.
"But that is wonderful!" he cried. "How did you find that out?"
Hanaud leaned back in his chair and took a pull at his cigar. He was
obviously pleased with Wethermill's admiration.
"Yes, how did you find it out?" Ricardo repeated.
Hanaud smiled.
"As to that," he said, "remember I am the captain of the ship, and I do
not show you my observation." Ricardo was disappointed. Harry
Wethermill, however, started to his feet.
"We must search Geneva, then," he cried. "It is there that we should
be, not here drinking our coffee at the Villa des Fleurs."
Hanaud raised his hand.
"The search is not being overlooked. But Geneva is a big city. It is
not easy to search Geneva and find, when we know nothing about the
woman for whom we are searching, except that her hair is red, and that
probably a young girl last night was with her. It is rather here, I
think--in Aix--that we must keep our eyes wide open."
"Here!" cried Wethermill in exasperation. He stared at Hanaud as though
he were mad.
"Yes, here; at the post office--at the telephone exchange. Suppose that
the man is in Aix, as he may well be; some time he will wish to send a
letter, or a telegram, or a message over the telephone. That, I tell
you, is our chance. But here is news for us."
Hanaud pointed to a messenger who was walking towards them. The man
handed Hanaud an envelope.
"From M. le Commissaire," he said; and he saluted and retired. "From M.
le Commissaire?" cried Ricardo excitedly.
But before Hanaud could open the envelope Harry Wethermill laid a hand
upon his sleeve.
"Before we pass to something new, M. Hanaud," he said, "I should be
very glad if you would tell me what made you shiver in the salon this
morning. It has distressed me ever since. What was it that those two
cushions had to tell you?"
There was a note of anguish in his voice difficult to resist. But
Hanaud resisted it. He shook his head.
"Again," he said gravely, "I am to remind you that I am captain of the
ship and do not show my observation."
He tore open the envelope and sprang up from his seat.
"Mme. Dauvray's motor-car
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