They got into a cab outside the door. Perrichet mounted the box,
and the cab was driven along the upward-winding road past the
Hotel Bernascon. A hundred yards beyond the hotel the cab stopped
opposite to a villa. A hedge separated the garden of the villa
from the road, and above the hedge rose a board with the words "To
Let" upon it. At the gate a gendarme was standing, and just within
the gate Ricardo saw Louis Besnard, the Commissaire, and
Servettaz, Mme. Dauvray's chauffeur.
"It is here," said Besnard, as the party descended from the cab,
"in the coach-house of this empty villa."
"Here?" cried Ricardo in amazement.
The discovery upset all his theories. He had expected to hear that
it had been found fifty leagues away; but here, within a couple of
miles of the Villa Rose itself--the idea seemed absurd! Why take
it away at all--unless it was taken away as a blind? That
supposition found its way into Ricardo's mind, and gathered
strength as he thought upon it; for Hanaud had seemed to lean to
the belief that one of the murderers might be still in Aix.
Indeed, a glance at him showed that he was not discomposed by
their discovery.
"When was it found?" Hanaud asked.
"This morning. A gardener comes to the villa on two days a week to
keep the grounds in order. Fortunately Wednesday is one of his
days. Fortunately, too, there was rain yesterday evening. He
noticed the tracks of the wheels which you can see on the gravel,
and since the villa is empty he was surprised. He found the coach-
house door forced and the motor-car inside it. When he went to his
luncheon he brought the news of his discovery to the depot."
The party followed the Commissaire along the drive to the coach-
house.
"We will have the car brought out," said Hanaud to Servettaz.
It was a big and powerful machine with a limousine body,
luxuriously fitted and cushioned in the shade of light grey. The
outside panels of the car were painted a dark grey. The car had
hardly been brought out into the sunlight before a cry of
stupefaction burst from the lips of Perrichet.
"Oh!" he cried, in utter abasement. "I shall never forgive myself-
-never, never!"
"Why?" Hanaud asked, turning sharply as he spoke.
Perrichet was standing with his round eyes staring and his mouth
agape.
"Because, monsieur, I saw that car--at four o'clock this morning--
at the corner of the road--not fifty yards from the Villa Rose."
"What!" cried Ricardo.
"You saw it!" exclaimed Wethermill.
Upon their faces was reflected now the stupefaction of Perrichet.
"But you must have made a mistake," said the Commissaire.
"No, no, monsieur," Perrichet insisted. "It was that car. It was
that number. It was just after daylight. I was standing outside
the gate of the villa on duty where M. le Commissaire had placed
me. The car appeared at the corner and slackened speed. It seemed
to me that it was going to turn into the road and come down past
me. But instead the driver, as if he were now sure of his way, put
the car at its top speed and went on into Aix."