"This is M. Hanaud, of the Surete in Paris," said Louis Besnard.

M. Fleuriot bowed with cordiality.

"You are very welcome, M. Hanaud. You will find that nothing at
the villa has been disturbed. The moment the message arrived over
the telephone that you were willing to assist us I gave
instructions that all should be left as we found it. I trust that
you, with your experience, will see a way where our eyes find
none."

Hanaud bowed in reply.

"I shall do my best, M. Fleuriot. I can say no more," he said.

"But who are these gentlemen?" asked Fleuriot, waking, it seemed,
now for the first time to the presence of Harry Wethermill and Mr.
Ricardo.

"They are both friends of mine," replied Hanaud. "If you do not
object I think their assistance may be useful. Mr. Wethermill, for
instance, was acquainted with Celia Harland."

"Ah!" cried the judge; and his face took on suddenly a keen and
eager look. "You can tell me about her perhaps?"

"All that I know I will tell readily," said Harry Wethermill.

Into the light eyes of M. Fleuriot there came a cold, bright