s that," said Ricardo reluctantly. His
indignation was rapidly evaporating. For there was growing up in his
mind a pleasant perception that the advertisement placed him in the
limelight.

He rose from his bed.

"You will make yourself comfortable in the sitting-room while I have my
bath."

"I will, indeed," replied Hanaud cheerily. "I have already ordered my
morning chocolate. I have hopes that you may have a telegram very soon.
This paper was cried last night through the streets of Geneva."

Ricardo dressed for once in a way with some approach to ordinary
celerity, and joined Hanaud.

"Has nothing come?" he asked.

"No. This chocolate is very good; it is better than that which I get in
my hotel."

"Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, who was fairly twittering with
excitement. "You sit there talking about chocolate while my cup shakes
in my fingers."

"Again I must remind you that you are the amateur, I the professional,
my friend."

As the morning drew on, however, Hanaud's professional quietude
deserted him. He began to start at the sound of footsteps in the
corridor, to glance every other moment from the window, to eat his
cigarettes rather than to smoke them. At eleven o'clock Ricardo's valet
brought a telegram into the room. Ricardo seized it.

"Calmly, my friend," said Hanaud.

With trembling fingers Ricardo tore it open. He jumped in his chair.
Speechless, he handed the telegram to Hanaud. It had been sent from
Geneva, and it ran thus:

"Expect me soon after three.--MARTHE GOBIN."

Hanaud nodded his head.

"I told you I had hopes." All his levity had gone in an instant from
his manner. He spoke very quietly.

"I had better send for Wethermill?" asked Ricardo.

Hanaud shrugged his shoulders.

"As you like. But why raise hopes in that poor man's breast which an
hour or two may dash for ever to the ground? Consider! Marthe Gobin has
something to tell us. Think over those eight points of evidence which
you drew up yesterday in the Villa des Fleurs, and say whether what she
has to tell us is more likely to prove Mlle. Celie's innocence than her
guilt. Think well, for I will be guided by you, M. Ricardo," said
Hanaud solemnly. "If you think it better that your friend should live
in torture until Marthe Gobin comes, and then perhaps suffer worse
torture from the news she brings, be it so. You shall decide. If, on
the other hand, you think it will be best to leave M. Wethermill in
peace until we know h