car. Mlle. Celie leaves a fragment of the chiffon tunic of her frock
which caught in the hinge. But Mlle. Celie made much clearer
impressions in the mould than the man. Yet on the floor of the carriage
there is no trace of her shoes. Again I say there is something here
which I do not understand." And he spread out his hands with an
impulsive gesture of despair.

"It looks as if they had been careful and he careless," said Mr.
Ricardo, with the air of a man solving a very difficult problem.

"What a mind!" cried Hanaud, now clasping his hands together in
admiration. "How quick and how profound!"

There was at times something elephantinely elfish in M. Hanaud's
demeanour, which left Mr. Ricardo at a loss. But he had come to notice
that these undignified manifestations usually took place when Hanaud
had reached a definite opinion upon some point which had perplexed him.

"Yet there is perhaps, another explanation," Hanaud continued. "For
observe, M. Ricardo. We have other evidence to show that the careless
one was Mlle. Celie. It was she who left her footsteps so plainly
visible upon the grass, not the man. However, we will go back to M.
Wethermill's room at the Hotel Majestic and talk this matter over. We
know something now. Yes, we know--what do we know, monsieur?" he asked,
suddenly turning with a smile to Ricardo, and, as Ricardo paused:
"Think it over while we walk down to M. Wethermill's apartment in the
Hotel Majestic."

"We know that the murderer has escaped," replied Ricardo hotly.

"The murderer is not now the most important object of our search. He is
very likely at Marseilles by now. We shall lay our hands on him, never
fear," replied Hanaud, with a superb gesture of disdain. "But it was
thoughtful of you to remind me of him. I might so easily have clean
forgotten him, and then indeed my reputation would have suffered an
eclipse." He made a low, ironical bow to Ricardo and walked quickly
down the road.

"For a cumbersome man he is extraordinarily active," said Mr. Ricardo
to Harry Wethermill, trying to laugh, without much success. "A heavy,
clever, middle-aged man, liable to become a little gutter-boy at a
moment's notice."

Thus he described the great detective, and the description is quoted.
For it was Ricardo's best effort in the whole of this business.

The three men went straight to Harry Wethermill's apartment, which
consisted of a sitting-room and a bedroom on the first floor. A balcony
ran