In The House At Geneva

It was well, Mr. Ricardo thought, that some one understood. For
himself, he frankly admitted that he did not. Indeed, in his view
the first principles of reasoning seemed to be set at naught. It
was obvious from the solicitude with which Celia Harland was
surrounded that every one except himself was convinced of her
innocence. Yet it was equally obvious that any one who bore in
mind the eight points he had tabulated against her must be
convinced of her guilt. Yet again, if she were guilty, how did it
happen that she had been so mishandled by her accomplices? He was
not allowed however, to reflect upon these remarkable problems. He
had too busy a time of it. At one moment he was running to fetch
water wherewith to bathe Celia's forehead. At another, when he had
returned with the water, he was distracted by the appearance of
Durette, the inspector from Aix, in the doorway.

"We have them both," he said--"Hippolyte and the woman. They were
hiding in the garden."

"So I thought," said Hanaud, "when I saw the door open downstairs,
and the morphia-needle on the table."

Lemerre turned to one of the officers.

"Let them be taken with old Jeanne in cabs to the depot."

And when the man had gone upon his errand Lemerre spoke to Hanaud.

"You will stay here tonight to arrange for their transfer to Aix?"

"I will leave Durette behind," said Hanaud. "I am needed at Aix.
We will make a formal application for the prisoners." He was
kneeling by Celia's side and awkwardly dabbing her forehead with a
wet handkerchief. He raised a warning hand. Celia Harland moved
and opened her eyes. She sat up on the sofa, shivering, and looked
with dazed and wondering eyes from one to another of the strangers
who surrounded her. She searched in vain for a familiar face.