"But is that wise, monsieur?" said Besnard.
Hanaud shrugged his shoulders.
"Why not?" he asked.
"The case is in your hands," said the Commissaire. To Ricardo the
proceedings seemed singularly irregular. But if the Commissaire
was content, it was not for him to object.
"And where is my excellent friend Perrichet?" asked Hanaud; and
leaning over the balustrade he called him up from the hall.
"We will now," said Hanaud, "have a glance into this poor murdered
woman's room."
The room was opposite to Celia's. Besnard produced the key and
unlocked the door. Hanaud took off his hat upon the threshold and
then passed into the room with his companions. Upon the bed,
outlined under a sheet, lay the rigid form of Mme. Dauvray. Hanaud
stepped gently to the bedside and reverently uncovered the face.
For a moment all could see it--livid, swollen, unhuman.
"A brutal business," he said in a low voice, and when he turned
again to his companions his face was white and sickly. He replaced
the sheet and gazed about the room.
It was decorated and furnished in the same style as the salon
downstairs, yet the contrast between the two rooms was remarkable.
Downstairs, in the salon, only a chair had been overturned. Here
there was every sign of violence and disorder. An empty safe stood
open in one corner; the rugs upon the polished floor had been
tossed aside; every drawer had been torn open, every wardrobe
burst; the very bed had been moved from its position.
"It was in this safe that Madame Dauvray hid her jewels each
night," said the Commissaire as Hanaud gazed about the room.
"Oh, was it so?" Hanaud asked slowly. It seemed to Ricardo that he
read something in the aspect of this room too, which troubled his
mind and increased his perplexity.
"Yes," said Besnard confidently. "Every night Mme. Dauvray locked
her jewels away in this safe. Vauquier told us so this morning.
Every night she was never too tired for that. Besides, here"--and
putting his hand into the safe he drew out a paper--" here is the
list of Mme. Dauvray's jewellery."
Plainly, however, Hanaud was not satisfied. He took the list and
glanced through the items. But his thoughts were not concerned
with it.
"If that is so," he said slowly, "Mme Dauvray kept her jewels in
this safe, why has every drawer been ransacked, why was the bed
moved? Perrichet, lock the door--quietly--from the inside. That is
right. Now lean your back against it."
Hanaud waited until he saw Perrichet's broad back against the
door. Then he went down upon his knees, and, tossing the rugs here
and there, examined with the minutest care the inlaid floor. By
the side of the bed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread. This in
its turn he moved quickly aside. He bent his eyes to the ground,
lay prone, moved this way and that to catch the light upon the
floor, then with a spring he rose upon his knees. He lifted his
finger to his lips. In a dead silence he drew a pen-knife quickly
from his pocket and opened it. He bent down again and inserted the
blade between the cracks of the blocks. The three men in the room
watched him with an intense excitement. A block of wood rose from
the floor, he pulled it out, laid it noiselessly down, and
inserted his hand into the opening.