"Do not condemn her too quickly, monsieur," she, said, with an
impulse of remorse. "And not upon my words. For, as I say, I--
hated her."
Hanaud nodded reassuringly, and she resumed: "I was surprised, and I asked mademoiselle what she would do
without her confederate. But she laughed, and said there would be
no difficulty. That is partly why I think there was no seance held
last night. Monsieur, there was a note in her voice that evening
which I did not as yet understand. Mademoiselle then took her bath
while I laid out her black dress and the slippers with the soft,
noiseless soles. And now I tell you why I am sure there was no
seance last night--why Mlle. Celie never meant there should be
one."
"Yes, let us hear that," said Hanaud curiously, and leaning
forward with his hands upon his knees.
"You have here, monsieur, a description of how mademoiselle was
dressed when she went away." Helene Vauquier picked up a sheet of
paper from the table at her side. "I wrote it out at the request
of M. le Commissaire." She handed the paper to Hanaud, who glanced
through it as she continued. "Well, except for the white lace
coat, monsieur, I dressed Mlle. Celie just in that way. She would
have none of her plain black robe. No, Mlle. Celie must wear her
fine new evening frock of pale reseda-green chiffon over soft
clinging satin, which set off her fair beauty so prettily. It left
her white arms and shoulders bare, and it had a long train, and it
rustled as she moved. And with that she must put on her pale green
silk stockings, her new little satin slippers to match, with the
large paste buckles--and a sash of green satin looped through
another glittering buckle at the side of the waist, with long ends
loosely knotted together at the knee. I must tie her fair hair
with a silver ribbon, and pin upon her curls a large hat of reseda
green with a golden-brown ostrich feather drooping behind. I
warned mademoiselle that there was a tiny fire burning in the
salon. Even with the fire-screen in front of it there would still
be a little light upon the floor, and the glittering buckles on
her feet would betray her, even if the rustle of her dress did
not. But she said she would kick her slippers off. Ah, gentlemen,
it is, after all, not so that one dresses for a seance," she
cried, shaking her head. "But it is just so--is it not?--that one
dresses to go to meet a lover."
The suggestion startled every one who heard it. It fairly took Mr.
Ricardo's breath away. Wethermill stepped forward with a cry of
revolt. The Commissaire exclaimed, admiringly, "But here is an
idea!" Even Hanaud sat back in his chair, though his expression
lost nothing of its impassivity, and his eyes never moved from
Helene Vauquier's face.