At the Villa Rose

At the Villa Rose Read Online Free PDF

Book: At the Villa Rose Read Online Free PDF
Author: A. E. W. Mason
the
villa.

Chapter IV - At the Villa
*
    The drive curved between trees and high bushes towards the back of the
house, and as the party advanced along it a small, trim, soldier-like
man, with a pointed beard, came to meet them. It was the man who had
looked out from the window, Louis Besnard, the Commissaire of Police.
    "You are coming, then, to help us, M. Hanaud!" he cried, extending his
hands. "You will find no jealousy here; no spirit amongst us of
anything but good will; no desire except one to carry out your
suggestions. All we wish is that the murderers should be discovered.
Mon Dieu, what a crime! And so young a girl to be involved in it! But
what will you?"
    "So you have already made your mind up on that point!" said Hanaud
sharply.
    The Commissaire shrugged his shoulders.
    "Examine the villa and then judge for yourself whether any other
explanation is conceivable," he said; and turning, he waved his hand
towards the house. Then he cried, "Ah!" and drew himself into an
attitude of attention. A tall, thin man of about forty-five years,
dressed in a frock coat and a high silk hat, had just come round an
angle of the drive and was moving slowly towards them. He wore the
soft, curling brown beard of one who has never used a razor on his
chin, and had a narrow face with eyes of a very light grey, and a round
bulging forehead.
    "This is the Juge d'Instruction?" asked Hanaud.
    "Yes; M. Fleuriot," replied Louis Besnard in a whisper.
    M. Fleuriot was occupied with his own thoughts, and it was not until
Besnard stepped forward noisily on the gravel that he became aware of
the group in the garden.
    "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 gleam. He
took a step forward. His face seemed to narrow to a greater sharpness.
In a moment, to Mr. Ricardo's thought, he ceased to be the judge; he
dropped from his high office; he dwindled into a fanatic.
    "She is a Jewess, this Celia Harland?" he cried.
    "No, M. Fleuriot, she is not," replied Wethermill. "I do not speak in
disparagement of that race, for I count many friends amongst its
members. But Celia Harland is not one of them."
    "Ah!" said Fleuriot; and there was something of disappointment,
something, too, of incredulity, in his voice. "Well, you will come and
report to me when you have made your investigation." And he passed on
without another question or remark.
    The group of men watched him go, and it was not until he was out of
earshot that Besnard turned with a deprecating gesture to Hanaud.
    "Yes, yes, he is a good judge, M. Hanaud—quick, discriminating,
sympathetic; but he has that bee in his bonnet, like so many others.
Everywhere he must see l'affaire Dreyfus. He cannot get it out of his
head. No matter how insignificant a woman is murdered, she must have
letters in her possession which would convict Dreyfus. But you know!
There are thousands like that—good, kindly, just people in the
ordinary ways of life, but behind every crime they see the Jew."
    Hanaud
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