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"Patience, my friend Her story was not all untrue I say there
were brains behind this crime; yes, but brains, even the
cleverest, would not have invented this queer, strange story of
the seances and of Mme de Montespan That is truth But yet, if
there were a seance held, if the scrap of paper were spirit-
writing in answer to some aard question, why--and here I come
to my first question, which M Ricardo has oance last night? What
Vauquier said is true Her dress was not suited to a seance A
light-coloured, rustling frock, which would be visible in a diht, or even in the dark, which would certainly be heard at
every
hat--no no! I tell you, gentleet to the bottom
of this mystery until we knohy Mlle Celie dressed herself as
she did last night" "Yes," Ricardo admitted "I overlooked that
point" "Did she--" Hanaud broke off and bowed to Wetherrace and a respect which condoned his words "Youfriend, while I consider all these points Did
she expect to join that night a lover--a man with the brains to
devise this crime? But if so--and here I come to the second
question orass outside the door of the salon, were the footsteps of the man
and woman so carefully erased, and the footsteps of Mlle Celie--
those little footsteps so easily identified--left for all the
world to see and recognise?"