wn room; which, secondly, she wished to hide
in the room of Mlle. Celie; and which, thirdly, she had not had an
opportunity to hide before? Now bear those three conditions in mind,
and tell me what the small thing was."

Mr. Ricardo nodded his head.

"I know now," he said. "You told me. The earrings of Mlle. Celie. But I
should not have guessed it at the time."

"Nor could I--at the time," said Hanaud. "I kept my open mind about
Helene Vauquier; but I locked the door and took the key. Then we went
and heard Vauquier's story. The story was clever, because so much of it
was obviously, indisputably true. The account of the seances, of Mme.
Dauvray's superstitions, her desire for an interview with Mme. de
Montespan--such details are not invented. It was interesting, too, to
know that there had been a seance planned for that night! The method of
the murder began to be clear. So far she spoke the truth. But then she
lied. Yes, she lied, and it was a bad lie, my friend. She told us that
the strange woman Adele had black hair. Now I carried in my pocket-book
proof that that woman's hair was red. Why did she lie, except to make
impossible the identification of that strange visitor? That was the
first false step taken by Helene Vauquier.

"Now let us take the second. I thought nothing of her rancour against
Mlle. Celie. To me it was all very natural. She--the hard peasant woman
no longer young, who had been for years the confidential servant of
Mme. Dauvray, and no doubt had taken her levy from the impostors who
preyed upon her credulous mistress--certainly she would hate this young
and pretty outcast whom she has to wait upon, whose hair she has to
dress. Vauquier--she would hate her. But if by any chance she were in
the plot--and the lie seemed to show she was--then the seances showed
me new possibilities. For Helene used to help Mlle. Celie. Suppose that
the seance had taken place, that this sceptical visitor with the red
hair professed herself dissatisfied with Vauquier's method of testing
the medium, had suggested another way, Mlle. Celie could not object,
and there she would be neatly and securely packed up beyond the power
of offering any resistance, before she could have a suspicion that
things were wrong. It would be an easy little comedy to play. And if
that were true--why, there were my sofa cushions partly explained."

"Yes, I see!" cried Ricardo, with enthusiasm. "You are wonderful."

Hanaud was not displeased