tune-tellers and rogues of that kind.
Any one with a pack of cards and some nonsense about a dangerous woman
with black hair or a man with a limp--Monsieur knows the stories they
string together in dimly lighted rooms to deceive the credulous--any
one could make a harvest out of madame's superstitions. But monsieur
knows the type."

"Indeed I do," said Hanaud, with a laugh.

"Well, after mademoiselle had been with us three weeks, she said to me
one morning when I was dressing her hair that it was a pity madame was
always running round the fortune-tellers, that she herself could do
something much more striking and impressive, and that if only I would
help her we could rescue madame from their clutches. Sir, I did not
think what power I was putting into Mlle. Celie's hands, or assuredly I
would have refused. And I did not wish to quarrel with Mlle. Celie; so
for once I consented, and, having once consented, I could never
afterwards refuse, for, if I had, mademoiselle would have made some
fine excuse about the psychic influence not being en rapport, and
meanwhile would have had me sent away. While if I had confessed the
truth to madame, she would have been so angry that I had been a party
to tricking her that again I would have lost my place. And so the
seances went on."

"Yes," said Hanaud. "I understand that your position was very
difficult. We shall not, I think," and he turned to the Commissaire
confidently for corroboration of his words, "be disposed to blame you."

"Certainly not," said the Commissaire. "After all, life is not so easy."

"Thus, then, the seances began," said Hanaud, leaning forward with a
keen interest. "This is a strange and curious story you are telling me,
Mlle. Vauquier. Now, how were they conducted? How did you assist? What
did Mlle. Celie do? Rap on the tables in the dark and rattle
tambourines like that one with the knot of ribbons which hangs upon the
wall of the salon?"

There was a gentle and inviting irony in Hanaud's tone. M. Ricardo was
disappointed. Hanaud had after all not overlooked the tambourine.
Without Ricardo's reason to notice it, he had none the less observed it
and borne it in his memory.

"Well?" he asked.

"Oh, monsieur, the tambourines and the rapping on the table!" cried
Helene. "That was nothing--oh, but nothing at all. Mademoiselle Celie
would make spirits appear and speak!"

"Really! And she was never caught out! But Mlle. Celie must have been a
remarkably c