facts.

"On the night before the murder," continued Wethermill quietly,
"Celia Harland lost money at the baccarat-table. Ricardo saw her
in the garden behind the rooms, and she was hysterical. Later on
that same night he saw her again with me, and he heard what she
said. I asked her to come to the rooms on the next evening--
yesterday, the night of the crime--and her face changed, and she
said, 'No, we have other plans for tomorrow. But the night after I
shall want you.'"

Hanaud sprang up from his chair.

"And YOU tell me these two things!" he cried.

"Yes," said Wethermill. "You were kind enough to say to me I was
not a romantic boy. I am not. I can face facts."

Hanaud stared at his companion for a few moments. Then, with a
remarkable air of consideration, he bowed.

"You have won, monsieur," he said. "I will take up this case.
But," and his face grew stern and he brought his fist down upon
the table with a bang, "I shall follow it to the end now, be the
consequences bitter as death to you."

"That is what I wish, monsieur," said Wethermill.

Hanaud locked up the slips of paper in his lettercase. Then he
went out of the room and returned in a few minutes.