Part 20 (1/2)
”Why have you done it?” Mr. Ricardo cried.
Hanaud advanced to the bed mysteriously on the tips of his toes.
”I will tell you,” he said, in his most confidential tones. ”Only it must remain a secret between you and me. I did it--because I have a sense of humour.”
”I hate publicity,” said Mr. Ricardo acidly.
”On the other hand you have four thousand francs,” protested the detective. ”Besides, what else should I do? If I name myself, the very people we are seeking to catch--who, you may be sure, will be the first to read this advertis.e.m.e.nt--will know that I, the great, the incomparable Hanaud, am after them; and I do not want them to know that. Besides”--and he spoke now in a gentle and most serious voice--”why should we make life more difficult for Mlle. Celie by telling the world that the police want her? It will be time enough for that when she appears before the Juge d'Instruction.”
Mr. Ricardo grumbled inarticulately, and read through the advertis.e.m.e.nt again.
”Besides, your description is incomplete,” he said. ”There is no mention of the diamond earrings which Celia Harland was wearing when she went away.”
”Ah! so you noticed that!” exclaimed Hanaud. ”A little more experience and I should be looking very closely to my laurels. But as for the earrings--I will tell you. Mlle. Celie was not wearing them when she went away from the Villa Rose.”
”But--but,” stammered Ricardo, ”the case upon the dressing-room table was empty.”
”Still, she was not wearing them, I know,” said Hanaud decisively.
”How do you know?” cried Ricardo, gazing at Hanaud with awe in his eyes. ”How could you know?”
”Because”--and Hanaud struck a majestic att.i.tude, like a king in a play--”because I am the captain of the s.h.i.+p.”
Upon that Mr. Ricardo suffered a return of his ill-humour.
”I do not like to be trifled with,” he remarked, with as much dignity as his ruffled hair and the bed-clothes allowed him. He looked sternly at the newspaper, turning it over, and then he uttered a cry of surprise.
”But this is yesterday's paper!” he said.
”Yesterday evening's paper,” Hanaud corrected.
”Printed at Geneva!”
”Printed, and published and sold at Geneva,” said Hanaud.
”When did you send the advertis.e.m.e.nt in, then?”
”I wrote a letter while we were taking our luncheon,” Hanaud explained.
”The letter was to Besnard, asking him to telegraph the advertis.e.m.e.nt at once.”
”But you never said a word about it to us,” Ricardo grumbled.
”No. And was I not wise?” said Hanaud, with complacency. ”For you would have forbidden me to use your name.”
”Oh, I don't go so far as that,” said Ricardo reluctantly. His indignation was rapidly evaporating. For there was growing up in his mind a pleasant perception that the advertis.e.m.e.nt placed him in the limelight.
He rose from his bed.
”You will make yourself comfortable in the sitting-room while I have my bath.”
”I will, indeed,” replied Hanaud cheerily. ”I have already ordered my morning chocolate. I have hopes that you may have a telegram very soon.