culations 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 reopened the door to the outer bedroom.

'It is nothing, monsieur,' said Celestine, as she crossed the small
room. 'I hope that monsieur will catch the assassin of Monsieur
Manderson. But I not regret him too much,' she added with sudden and
amazing violence, turning round with her hand on the knob of the outer
door. She set her teeth with an audible sound, and the colour rose in
her small dark face. English departed from her. 'Je ne le regrette pas
du tout, du tout!' she cried with a flood of words. 'Madame--ah! je me
jetterais au leu pour madame--une femme si charmante, si adorable! Mais
un homme comme monsieur--maussade, boudeur, impassible! Ah, non!--de
ma vie! J'en avais par-dessus la tete, de monsieur! Ah! vrai! Est-ce
insupportable, tout de meme, qu'il existe des types comme ca? Je vous
jure que--'

'Finissez ce chahut, Celestine!' Trent broke in sharply. Celestine's
tirade had brought back the memory of his student days with a rush.
'En voila une scene! C'est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret ca,
mademoiselle. Du reste, c'est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! Have
some common sense! If the inspector downstairs heard you saying that
kind of thing, you would get into trouble. And don't wave your fists
about so much; you might hit something. You seem,' he went on more
pleasantly, as Celestine grew calmer under his authoritative eye, 'to be
even more glad than other people that Mr Manderson is out of the way. I
could almost suspect, Celestine, that Mr Manderson did not take as much
notice of you as you thought necessary and right.'

'A peine s'il m'avait regarde!' Celestine answered simply.

'Ca, c'est un comble!' observed Trent. 'You are a nice young woman for a
small tea-party, I don't think. A star upon your birthday burned,
whose fierce, serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in heaven,
Celestine. Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a
beauty!'

Celestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise
restored her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at
Trent over her shoulder, the lady's