lding a green
leather jewel-case. He opened it, and a diamond necklace flashed its
thousand colours in their faces. He thrust in his hand again and again
and again, and each time that be withdrew it, it held a jewel-case.
Before the astonished eyes of his companions he opened them. Ropes of
pearls, collars of diamonds, necklaces of emeralds, rings of
pigeon-blood rubies, bracelets of gold studded with opals-Mme.
Dauvray's various jewellery was disclosed.

"But that is astounding," said Besnard, in an awe-struck voice.

"Then she was never robbed after all?" cried Ricardo.

Hanaud rose to his feet.

"What a piece of irony!" he whispered. "The poor woman is murdered for
her jewels, the room's turned upside down, and nothing is found. For
all the while they lay safe in this cache. Nothing is taken except what
she wore. Let us see what she wore."

"Only a few rings, Helene Vauquier thought," said Besnard. "But she was
not sure."

"Ah!" said Hanaud. "Well, let us make sure!" and, taking the list from
the safe, he compared it with the jewellery in the cases on the floor,
ticking off the items one by one. When he had finished he knelt down
again, and, thrusting his hand into the hole, felt carefully about.

"There is a pearl necklace missing," he said. "A valuable necklace,
from the description in the list and some rings. She must have been
wearing them;" and he sat back upon his heels. "We will send the
intelligent Perrichet for a bag," he said, "and we will counsel the
intelligent Perrichet not to breathe a word to any living soul of what
he has seen in this room. Then we will seal up in the bag the jewels,
and we will hand it over to M. le Commissaire, who will convey it with
the greatest secrecy out of this villa. For the list--I will keep it,"
and he placed it carefully in his pocket-book.

He unlocked the door and went out himself on to the landing. He looked
down the stairs and up the stairs; then he beckoned Perrichet to him.

"Go!" he whispered. "Be quick, and when you come back hide the bag
carefully under your coat."

Perrichet went down the stairs with pride written upon his face. Was he
not assisting the great M. Hanaud from the Surete in Paris? Hanaud
returned into Mme. Dauvray's room and closed the door. He looked into
the eyes of his companions.

"Can't you see the scene?" he asked with a queer smile of excitement.
He had forgotten Wethermill; he had forgotten even the dead woman
shrouded beneath