"I told you not to come to me!" she said, "I cannot speak
impartially, or even gently of mademoiselle. Consider! For years I
had been more than madame's maid--her friend; yes, so she was kind
enough to call me. She talked to me about everything, consulted me
about everything, took me with her everywhere. Then she brings
home, at two o'clock in the morning, a young girl with a fresh,
pretty face, from a Montmartre restaurant, and in a week I am
nothing at all--oh, but nothing--and mademoiselle is queen."
"Yes, it is quite natural," said Hanaud sympathetically. "You
would not have been human, mademoiselle, if you had not felt some
anger. But tell us frankly about these seances. How did they
begin?"
"Oh, monsieur," Vauquier answered, "it was not difficult to begin
them. Mme. Dauvray had a passion for fortune-tellers and rogues of
that kind. Any one with a pack of cards and some nonsense about a
dangerous woman with black hair or a man with a limp--Monsieur
knows the stories they string together in dimly lighted rooms to
deceive the credulous--any one could make a harvest out of
madame's superstitions. But monsieur knows the type."
"Indeed I do," said Hanaud, with a laugh.
"Well, after mademoiselle had been with us three weeks, she said
to me one morning when I was dressing her hair that it was a pity
madame was always running round the fortune-tellers, that she
herself could do something much more striking and impressive, and
that if only I would help her we could rescue madame from their
clutches. Sir, I did not think what power I was putting into Mlle.
Celie's hands, or assuredly I would have refused. And I did not
wish to quarrel with Mlle. Celie; so for once I consented, and,
having once consented, I could never afterwards refuse, for, if I
had, mademoiselle would have made some fine excuse about the
psychic influence not being en rapport, and meanwhile would have
had me sent away. While if I had confessed the truth to madame,
she would have been so angry that I had been a party to tricking
her that again I would have lost my place. And so the seances went
on."
"Yes," said Hanaud. "I understand that your position was very
difficult. We shall not, I think," and he turned to the
Commissaire confidently for corroboration of his words, "be
disposed to blame you."
"Certainly not," said the Commissaire. "After all, life is not so
easy."
"Thus, then, the seances began," said Hanaud, leaning forward with
a keen interest. "This is a strange and curious story you are
telling me, Mlle. Vauquier. Now, how were they conducted? How did
you assist? What did Mlle. Celie do? Rap on the tables in the dark
and rattle tambourines like that one with the knot of ribbons
which hangs upon the wall of the salon?"