Wethermill nodded.

“I shall try,” he said.

“That’s better,” said Hanaud cheerfully.  “You will both stay here this evening; for if I have news, I can then ring you up.”

Both men agreed, and Hanaud went away.  He left Mr. Ricardo profoundly disturbed.  “That man will take advice from no one,” he declared.  “His vanity is colossal.  It is true they are not particular at the Swiss Frontier.  Still the car would have to stop there.  At the Custom House they would know something.  Hanaud ought to make inquiries.”  But neither Ricardo nor Harry Wethermill heard a word more from Hanaud that night.

CHAPTER X

NEWS FROM GENEVA

The next morning, however, before Mr. Ricardo was out of his bed, M. Hanaud was announced.  He came stepping gaily into the room, more elephantinely elfish than ever.

“Send your valet away,” he said.  And as soon as they were alone he produced a newspaper, which he flourished in Mr. Ricardo’s face and then dropped into his hands.

Ricardo saw staring him in the face a full description of Celia Harland, of her appearance and her dress, of everything except her name, coupled with an intimation that a reward of four thousand francs would be paid to any one who could give information leading to the discovery of her whereabouts to Mr. Ricardo, the Hotel Majestic, Aix-les-Bains!

Mr. Ricardo sat up in his bed with a sense of outrage.

“You have done this?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why have you done it?” Mr. Ricardo cried.

Hanaud advanced to the bed mysteriously on the tips of his toes.

“I will tell you,” he said, in his most confidential tones.  “Only it must remain a secret between you and me.  I did it—­because I have a sense of humour.”

“I hate publicity,” said Mr. Ricardo acidly.

“On the other hand you have four thousand francs,” protested the detective.  “Besides, what else should I do?  If I name myself, the very people we are seeking to catch—­who, you may be sure, will be the first to read this advertisement—­will know that I, the great, the incomparable Hanaud, am after them; and I do not want them to know that.  Besides”—­and he spoke now in a gentle and most serious voice—­“why should we make life more difficult for Mlle. Celie by telling the world that the police want her?  It will be time enough for that when she appears before the Juge d’Instruction.”

Mr. Ricardo grumbled inarticulately, and read through the advertisement again.

“Besides, your description is incomplete,” he said.  “There is no mention of the diamond earrings which Celia Harland was wearing when she went away.”

“Ah! so you noticed that!” exclaimed Hanaud.  “A little more experience and I should be looking very closely to my laurels.  But as for the earrings—­I will tell you, Mlle. Celie was not wearing them when she went away from the Villa Rose.”