e
her fair hair with a silver ribbon, and pin upon her curls a large hat
of reseda green with a golden-brown ostrich feather drooping behind. I
warned mademoiselle that there was a tiny fire burning in the salon.
Even with the fire-screen in front of it there would still be a little
light upon the floor, and the glittering buckles on her feet would
betray her, even if the rustle of her dress did not. But she said she
would kick her slippers off. Ah, gentlemen, it is, after all, not so
that one dresses for a seance," she cried, shaking her head. "But it is
just so--is it not?--that one dresses to go to meet a lover."

The suggestion startled every one who heard it. It fairly took Mr.
Ricardo's breath away. Wethermill stepped forward with a cry of revolt.
The Commissaire exclaimed, admiringly, "But here is an idea!" Even
Hanaud sat back in his chair, though his expression lost nothing of its
impassivity, and his eyes never moved from Helene Vauquier's face.

"Listen!" she continued, "I will tell you what I think. It was my habit
to put out some sirop and lemonade and some little cakes in the
dining-room, which, as you know, is at the other side of the house
across the hall. I think it possible, messieurs, that while Mlle. Celie
was changing her dress Mme. Dauvray and the stranger, Adele, went into
the dining-room. I know that Mlle. Celie, as soon as she was dressed,
ran downstairs to the salon. Well, then, suppose Mlle. Celie had a
lover waiting with whom she meant to run away. She hurries through the
empty salon, opens the glass doors, and is gone, leaving the doors
open. And the thief, an accomplice of Adele, finds the doors open and
hides himself in the salon until Mme. Dauvray returns from the
dining-room. You see, that leaves Mlle. Celie innocent."

Vauquier leaned forward eagerly, her white face flushing. There was a
moment's silence, and then Hanaud said:

"That is all very well, Mlle. Vauquier. But it does not account for the
lace coat in which the girl went away. She must have returned to her
room to fetch that after you had gone to bed."

Helene Vauquier leaned back with an air of disappointment.

"That is true. I had forgotten the coat. I did not like Mlle. Celie,
but I am not wicked--"

"Nor for the fact that the sirop and the lemonade had not been touched
in the dining-room," said the Commissaire, interrupting her.

Again the disappointment overspread Vauquier's face.

"Is that so?" she asked. "I di