"Let us go," said Hanaud. "By the lift, if you please; it will
save time."
They descended into the hall close by the main door. The body of
Marthe Gobin had been removed to the mortuary of the town. The
life of the hotel had resumed its course.
"M. Besnard has gone, I suppose?" Hanaud asked of the porter; and,
receiving an assent, he walked quickly out of the front door.
"But there is a shorter way," said Ricardo, running after him:
"across the garden at the back and down the steps."
"It will make no difference now," said Hanaud.
They hurried along the drive and down the road which circled round
the hotel and dipped to the town.
Behind Hanaud's hotel Ricardo's car was waiting.
"We must go first to Besnard's office. The poor man will be at his
wits' end to know who was Mme. Gobin and what brought her to Aix.
Besides, I wish to send a message over the telephone."
Hanaud descended and spent a quarter of an hour with the
Commissaire. As he came out he looked at his watch.
"We shall be in time, I think," he said. He climbed into the car.
"The murder of Marthe Gobin on her way from the station will put
our friends at their ease. It will be published, no doubt, in the
evening papers, and those good people over there in Geneva will
read it with amusement. They do not know that Marthe Gobin wrote a
letter yesterday night. Come, let us go!"
"Where to?" asked Ricardo.
"Where to?" exclaimed Hanaud. "Why, of course, to Geneva."