-yes, at all costs he must show how intelligent he was.
And he had shown himself a fool. He should have kept silence about that
pot of cream.

CHAPTER VIII

THE CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP

Hanaud walked away from the Villa Rose in the company of Wethermill and
Ricardo.

"We will go and lunch," he said.

"Yes; come to my hotel," said Harry Wethermill. But Hanaud shook his
head.

"No; come with me to the Villa des Fleurs," he replied. "We may learn
something there; and in a case like this every minute is of importance.
We have to be quick."

"I may come too?" cried Mr. Ricardo eagerly.

"By all means," replied Hanaud, with a smile of extreme courtesy.
"Nothing could be more delicious than monsieur's suggestions"; and with
that remark he walked on silently.

Mr. Ricardo was in a little doubt as to the exact significance of the
words. But he was too excited to dwell long upon them. Distressed
though he sought to be at his friend's grief, he could not but assume
an air of importance. All the artist in him rose joyfully to the
occasion. He looked upon himself from the outside. He fancied without
the slightest justification that people were pointing him out. "That
man has been present at the investigation at the Villa Rose," he seemed
to hear people say. "What strange things he could tell us if he would!"

And suddenly, Mr. Ricardo began to reflect. What, after all, could he
have told them?

And that question he turned over in his mind while he ate his luncheon.
Hanaud wrote a letter between the courses. They were sitting at a
corner table, and Hanaud was in the corner with his back to the wall.
He moved his plate, too, over the letter as he wrote it. It would have
been impossible for either of his guests to see what he had written,
even if they had wished. Ricardo, indeed, did wish. He rather resented
the secrecy with which the detective, under a show of openness,
shrouded his thoughts and acts. Hanaud sent the waiter out to fetch an
officer in plain clothes, who was in attendance at the door, and he
handed the letter to this man. Then he turned with an apology to his
guests.

"It is necessary that we should find out," he explained, "as soon as
possible, the whole record of Mlle. Celie."

He lighted a cigar, and over the coffee he put a question to Ricardo.

"Now tell me what you make of the case. What M. Wethermill thinks--that
is clear, is it not? Helene Vauquier is the guilty one. But you, M.
Ricardo?