g, she
felt the need to make a scene; her nerves were overwrought. But her
scenes were at a discount with the other domestics, and as for Mr.
Murch, he had chilled her into self-control with his official manner.
Trent, her glimpse of him had told her, had not the air of a policeman,
and at a distance he had appeared _sympathetique_.

As she entered the room, however, instinct decided for her that any
approach to coquetry would be a mistake, if she sought to make a good
impression at the beginning. It was with an air of amiable candor, then,
that she said, "Monsieur desire to speak with me?" She added helpfully,
"I am called Celestine."

"Naturally," said Trent with businesslike calm. "Now what I want you to
tell me, Celestine, is this: when you took tea to your mistress
yesterday morning at seven o'clock, was the door between the two
bedrooms--this door here--open?"

Celestine became intensely animated in an instant. "Oh, yes," she said,
using her favorite English idiom. "The door was open as always,
monsieur, and I shut it as always. But it is necessary to explain.
Listen! When I enter the room of madame from the other door in
there--ah! but if monsieur will give himself the pain to enter the other
room, all explains itself." She tripped across to the door, and urged
Trent before her into the larger bedroom with a hand on his arm. "See! I
enter the room with the tea like this. I approach the bed. Before I come
quite near the bed, here is the door to my right hand--open, always--so!
But monsieur can perceive that I see nothing in the room of Monsieur
Manderson. The door opens to the bed, not to me who approach from down
there. I shut it without seeing in. It is the order. Yesterday it was as
ordinary. I see nothing of the next room. Madame sleep like an
angel--she see nothing. I shut the door. I place the plateau--I open the
curtains--I prepare the toilette--I retire--voila!" Celestine paused for
breath, and spread her hands abroad.

Trent, who had followed her movements and gesticulations with deepening
gravity, nodded his head. "I see exactly how it was now," he said.
"Thank you, Celestine. So Mr. Manderson was supposed to be still in his
room while your mistress was getting up, and dressing, and having
breakfast in her boudoir."

"Oui, monsieur."

"Nobody missed him, in fact," remarked Trent. "Well, Celestine, I am
very much obliged to you." He re-opened the door to the outer bedroom.

"It is nothing, monsie