Plainly, however, Hanaud was not satisfied.  He took the list and glanced through the items.  But his thoughts were not concerned with it.

“If that is so,” he said slowly, “Mme Dauvray kept her jewels in this safe, why has every drawer been ransacked, why was the bed moved?  Perrichet, lock the door—­quietly—­from the inside.  That is right.  Now lean your back against it.”

Hanaud waited until he saw Perrichet’s broad back against the door.  Then he went down upon his knees, and, tossing the rugs here and there, examined with the minutest care the inlaid floor.  By the side of the bed a Persian mat of blue silk was spread.  This in its turn he moved quickly aside.  He bent his eyes to the ground, lay prone, moved this way and that to catch the light upon the floor, then with a spring he rose upon his knees.  He lifted his finger to his lips.  In a dead silence he drew a pen-knife quickly from his pocket and opened it.  He bent down again and inserted the blade between the cracks of the blocks.  The three men in the room watched him with an intense excitement.  A block of wood rose from the floor, he pulled it out, laid it noiselessly down, and inserted his hand into the opening.

Wethermill at Ricardo’s elbow uttered a stifled cry.  “Hush!” whispered Hanaud angrily.  He drew out his hand again.  It was holding a green leather jewel-case.  He opened it, and a diamond necklace flashed its thousand colours in their faces.  He thrust in his hand again and again and again, and each time that be withdrew it, it held a jewel-case.  Before the astonished eyes of his companions he opened them.  Ropes of pearls, collars of diamonds, necklaces of emeralds, rings of pigeon-blood rubies, bracelets of gold studded with opals-Mme. Dauvray’s various jewellery was disclosed.

“But that is astounding,” said Besnard, in an awe-struck voice.

“Then she was never robbed after all?” cried Ricardo.

Hanaud rose to his feet.

“What a piece of irony!” he whispered.  “The poor woman is murdered for her jewels, the room’s turned upside down, and nothing is found.  For all the while they lay safe in this cache.  Nothing is taken except what she wore.  Let us see what she wore.”

“Only a few rings, Helene Vauquier thought,” said Besnard.  “But she was not sure.”

“Ah!” said Hanaud.  “Well, let us make sure!” and, taking the list from the safe, he compared it with the jewellery in the cases on the floor, ticking off the items one by one.  When he had finished he knelt down again, and, thrusting his hand into the hole, felt carefully about.

“There is a pearl necklace missing,” he said.  “A valuable necklace, from the description in the list and some rings.  She must have been wearing them;” and he sat back upon his heels.  “We will send the intelligent Perrichet for a bag,” he said, “and we will counsel the intelligent Perrichet not to breathe a word to any living soul of what he has seen in this room.  Then we will seal up in the bag the jewels, and we will hand it over to M. le Commissaire, who will convey it with the greatest secrecy out of this villa.  For the list—­I will keep it,” and he placed it carefully in his pocket-book.