nd obvious, if you once grant that the girl was innocent, was a
witness of the crime, and was now in the hands of the criminals. Grant
me those premisses, M. Ricardo, for a moment, and you will see that we
had just one chance of finding the girl alive in Geneva. From the first
I was sure of that. What was the one chance? Why, this! She might be
kept alive on the chance that she could be forced to tell what, by the
way, she did not know, namely, the place where Mme. Dauvray's valuable
jewels were secreted. Now, follow this. We, the police, find the jewels
and take charge of them. Let that news reach the house in Geneva, and
on the same night Mlle. Celie loses her life, and not--very pleasantly.
They have no further use for her. She is merely a danger to them. So I
take my precautions--never mind for the moment what they were. I take
care that if the murderer is in Aix and gets wind of our discovery he
shall not be able to communicate his news."

"The Post Office would have stopped letters or telegrams," said
Ricardo. "I understand."

"On the contrary," replied Hanaud. "No, I took my precautions, which
were of quite a different kind, before I knew the house in Geneva or
the name of Rossignol. But one way of communication I did not think of.
I did not think of the possibility that the news might be sent to a
newspaper, which of course would publish it and cry it through the
streets of Geneva. The moment I heard the news I knew we must hurry.
The garden of the house ran down to the lake. A means of disposing of
Mlle. Celie was close at hand. And the night had fallen. As it was, we
arrived just in time, and no earlier than just in time. The paper had
been bought, the message had reached the house, Mlle. Celie was no
longer of any use, and every hour she stayed in that house was of
course an hour of danger to her captors."

"What were they going to do?" asked Ricardo.

Hanaud shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not pretty--what they were going to do. We reach the garden in
our launch. At that moment Hippolyte and Adele, who is most likely
Hippolyte's wife, are in the lighted parlour on the basement floor.
Adele is preparing her morphia-needle. Hippolyte is going to get ready
the rowing-boat which was tied at the end of the landing-stage. Quietly
as we came into the bank, they heard or saw us. They ran out and hid in
the garden, having no time to lock the garden door, or perhaps not
daring to lock it lest the sound of the key