Hanaud shook his head and gazed across the table at Ricardo with an expression which the latter was at no loss to understand.

Lovers were impracticable people.

But he--Hanaud--he knew the world.

Women had fooled men before today.
Wethermill snatched his hands away from before his face.
"We talk theories," he cried desperately, "of what may have happened at the villa.

But we are not by one inch nearer to the man and woman who committed the crime.