into the cab,
perhaps as he walks by the side he strikes, and strikes hard and
strikes surely. Long before the cab reaches the hotel he is back again
on the verandah."

"Yes," said Ricardo, "it's the daring of which you spoke which made the
crime possible--the same daring which made him seek your help. That was
unexampled."

"No," replied Hanaud. "There's an historic crime in your own country,
monsieur. Cries for help were heard in a by-street of a town. When
people ran to answer them, a man was found kneeling by a corpse. It was
the kneeling man who cried for help, but it was also the kneeling man
who did the murder. I remembered that when I first began to suspect
Harry Wethermill."

Ricardo turned eagerly.

"And when--when did you first begin to suspect Harry Wethermill?"

Hanaud smiled and shook his head.

"That you shall know in good time. I am the captain of the ship." His
voice took on a deeper note. "But I prepare you. Listen! Daring and
brains, those were the property of Harry Wethermill--yes. But it is not
he who is the chief actor in the crime. Of that I am sure. He was no
more than one of the instruments."

"One of the instruments? Used, then, by whom?" asked Ricardo.

"By my Normandy peasant-woman, M. Ricardo," said Hanaud. "Yes, there's
the dominating figure--cruel, masterful, relentless--that strange
woman, Helene Vauquier. You are surprised? You will see! It is not the
man of intellect and daring; it's my peasant-woman who is at the bottom
of it all."

"But she's free!" exclaimed Ricardo. "You let her go free!"

"Free!" repeated Ricardo. "She was driven straight from the Villa Rose
to the depot. She has been kept au secret ever since."

Ricardo stared in amazement.

"Already you knew of her guilt?"

"Already she had lied to me in her description of Adele Rossignol. Do
you remember what she said--a black-haired woman with beady eyes; and I
only five minutes before had picked up from the table--this."

He opened his pocket-book, and took from an envelope a long strand of
red hair.

"But it was not only because she lied that I had her taken to the
depot. A pot of cold cream had disappeared from the room of Mlle Celie."

"Then Perrichet after all was right."

"Perrichet after all was quite wrong--not to hold his tongue. For in
that pot of cold cream, as I was sure, were hidden those valuable
diamond earrings which Mlle. Celie habitually wore."

The two men had reached the square in fr