sofa in the bedroom. No wonder she ran quickly into the
house. Well, there you have the explanation. I had only my theory to
work upon even after Mme. Gobin's evidence. But as it happened it was
the right one. Meanwhile, of course, I made my inquiries into
Wethermill's circumstances. My good friends in England helped me. They
were precarious. He owed money in Aix, money at his hotel. We knew from
the motor-car that the man we were searching for had returned to Aix.
Things began to look black for Wethermill. Then you gave me a little
piece of information."

"I!" exclaimed Ricardo, with a start.

"Yes. You told me that you walked up to the hotel with Harry Wethermill
on the night of the murder and separated just before ten. A glance into
his rooms which I had--you will remember that when we had discovered
the motor-car I suggested that we should go to Harry Wethermill's rooms
and talk it over--that glance enabled me to see that he could very
easily have got out of his room on to the verandah below and escaped
from the hotel by the garden quite unseen. For you will remember that
whereas your rooms look out to the front and on to the slope of Mont
Revard, Wethermill's look out over the garden and the town of Aix. In a
quarter of an hour or twenty minutes he could have reached the Villa
Rose. He could have been in the salon before half-past ten, and that is
just the hour which suited me perfectly. And, as he got out unnoticed,
so he could return. So he did return! My friend, there are some
interesting marks upon the window-sill of Wethermill's room and upon
the pillar just beneath it. Take a look, M. Ricardo, when you return to
your hotel. But that was not all. We talked of Geneva in Mr.
Wethermill's room, and of the distance between Geneva and Aix. Do you
remember that?"

"Yes," replied Ricardo.

"Do you remember too that I asked him for a road-book?"

"Yes; to make sure of the distance. I do."

"Ah, but it was not to make sure of the distance that I asked for the
road-book, my friend. I asked in order to find out whether Harry
Wethermill had a road-book at all which gave a plan of the roads
between here and Geneva. And he had. He handed it to me at once and
quite naturally. I hope that I took it calmly, but I was not at all
calm inside. For it was a new road-book, which, by the way, he bought a
week before, and I was asking myself all the while--now what was I
asking myself, M. Ricardo?"

"No," said Ricardo, with