Hanaud pointed solemnly to the ground.

"Read the story those footprints write in the mould there. A young
and active girl of about Mlle. Celie's height, and wearing a new
pair of Mlle. Celie's shoes, springs from that room where the
murder was committed, where the body of the murdered woman lies.
She is running. She is wearing a long gown. At the second step the
hem of the gown catches beneath the point of her shoe. She
stumbles. To save herself from falling she brings up the other
foot sharply and stamps the heel down into the ground. She
recovers her balance. She steps on to the drive. It is true the
gravel here is hard and takes no mark, but you will see that some
of the mould which has clung to her shoes has dropped off. She
mounts into the motor-car with the man and the other woman and
drives off--some time between eleven and twelve."

"Between eleven and twelve? Is that sure?" asked Besnard.

"Certainly," replied Hanaud. "The gate is open at eleven, and
Perrichet closes it. It is open again at twelve. Therefore the
murderers had not gone before eleven. No; the gate was open for
them to go, but they had not gone. Else why should the gate again
be open at midnight?"

Besnard nodded in assent, and suddenly Perrichet started forward,
with his eyes full of horror.

"Then, when I first closed the gate," he cried, "and came into the
garden and up to the house they were here--in that room? Oh, my