"She loved the Villa des Fleurs, but she never played for high sums and
often never played at all. If she won a few louis, she was as delighted
with her gains and as afraid to lose them again at the tables as if she
were of the poorest, and she stopped at once. No, monsieur; twenty or
thirty louis--there was never more than that in the house."

"Then it was certainly for her famous collection of jewellery that
Madame Dauvray was murdered?"

"Certainly, monsieur."

"Now, where did she keep her jewellery?"

"In a safe in her bedroom, monsieur. Every night she took off what she
had been wearing and locked it up with the rest. She was never too
tired for that."

"And what did she do with the keys?"

"That I cannot tell you. Certainly she locked her rings and necklaces
away whilst I undressed her. And she laid the keys upon the
dressing-table or the mantel-shelf--anywhere. But in the morning the
keys were no longer where she had left them. She had put them secretly
away."

Hanaud turned to another point.

"I suppose that Mademoiselle Celie knew of the safe and that the jewels
were kept there?"

"Oh yes! Mademoiselle indeed was often in Madame Dauvray's room when
she was dressing or undressing. She must often have seen madame take
them out and lock them up again. But then, monsieur, so did I."

Hanaud nodded to her with a friendly smile.

"Thank you once more, mademoiselle," he said. "The torture is over. But
of course Monsieur Fleuriot will require your presence."

Helene Vauquier looked anxiously towards him.

"But meanwhile I can go from this villa, monsieur?" she pleaded, with a
trembling voice.

"Certainly; you shall go to your friends at once."

"Oh, monsieur, thank you!" she cried, and suddenly she gave way. The
tears began to flow from her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and
sobbed. "It is foolish of me, but what would you?" She jerked out the
words between her sobs. "It has been too terrible."

"Yes, yes," said Hanaud soothingly. "The nurse will put a few things
together for you in a bag. You will not leave Aix, of course, and I
will send some one with you to your friends."

The maid started violently.

"Oh, not a sergent-de-ville, monsieur, I beg of you. I should be
disgraced."

"No. It shall be a man in plain clothes, to see that you are not
hindered by reporters on the way."

Hanaud turned towards the door. On the dressing-table a cord was lying.
He took it up and spoke to the n