l promise silence as to the finding of
Mme. Dauvray's jewellery. For I thought, if they have taken the girl
away so that suspicion may fall on her and not on Vauquier, they mean
to dispose of her. But they may keep her so long as they have a chance
of finding out from her Mme. Dauvray's hiding-place. It was a small
chance but our only one. The moment the discovery of the jewellery was
published the girl's fate was sealed, were my theory true.

"Then came our advertisement and Mme. Gobin's written testimony. There
was one small point of interest which I will take first: her statement
that Adele was the Christian name of the woman with the red hair, that
the old woman who was the servant in that house in the suburb of Geneva
called her Adele, just simply Adele. That interested me, for Helene
Vauquier had called her Adele too when she was describing to us the
unknown visitor. 'Adele' was what Mme. Dauvray called her."

"Yes," said Ricardo. "Helene Vauquier made a slip there. She should
have given her a false name."

Hanaud nodded.

"It is the one slip she made in the whole of the business. Nor did she
recover herself very cleverly. For when the Commissaire pounced upon
the name, she at once modified her words. She only thought now that the
name was Adele, or something like it. But when I went on to suggest
that the name in any case would be a false one, at once she went back
upon her modifications. And now she was sure that Adele was the name
used. I remembered her hesitation when I read Marthe Gobin's letter.
They helped to confirm me in my theory that she was in the plot; and
they made me very sure that it was an Adele for whom we had to look. So
far well. But other statements in the letter puzzled me. For instance,
'She ran lightly and quickly across the pavement into the house, as
though she were afraid to be seen.' Those were the words, and the woman
was obviously honest. What became of my theory then? The girl was free
to run, free to stoop and pick up the train of her gown in her hand,
free to shout for help in the open street if she wanted help. No; that
I could not explain until that afternoon, when I saw Mlle. Celie's
terror-stricken eyes fixed upon that flask, as Lemerre poured a little
out and burnt a hole in the sack. Then I understood well enough. The
fear of vitriol!" Hanaud gave an uneasy shudder. "And it is enough to
make any one afraid! That I can tell you. No wonder she lay still as a
mouse upon the