"Ah, my poor friend!" he said, when he saw the young man's distress. Harry Wethermill sprang up with a gesture as though to sweep the need of sympathy away. "What can I do for you?" he asked. "You have a road map, perhaps?" said Hanaud. "Yes," said Wethermill, "mine is here. There it is"; and crossing the room he brought it from a sidetable and placed it in front of Hanaud. Hanaud took a pencil from his pocket. "One hundred and fifty kilometres was about the distance which the car had travelled. Measure the distances here, and you will see that Geneva is the likely place. It is a good city to hide in. Moreover the car appears at the corner at daylight. How does it appear there? What road is it which comes out at that corner? The road from Geneva. I am not sorry that it is Geneva, for the Chef de la Surete is a friend of mine." "And what else do we know?" asked Ricardo. "This," said Hanaud. He paused impressively. "Bring up your chair to the table, M. Wethermill, and consider whether I am right or wrong"; and he waited until Harry Wethermill had obeyed. Then he laughed in a friendly way at himself. "I cannot help it," he said; "I have an eye for dramatic effects. I must prepare for them when I know they are coming. And one, I tell you, is coming now." He shook his finger at his companions. Ricardo shifted and shuffled in his chair. Harry Wethermill kept his eyes fixed on Hanaud's face, but he was quiet, as he had been throughout the long inquiry. Hanaud lit a cigarette and took his time. "What I think is this. The man who drove the car into Geneva drove it back, because--he meant to leave it again in the garage of the Villa Rose." "Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, flinging himself back. The theory so calmly enunciated took his breath away. "Would he have dared?" asked Harry Wethermill. Hanaud leaned across and tapped his fingers on the table to emphasise his answer. "All through this crime there are two things visible--brains and daring; clever brains and extraordinary daring. Would he have dared? He dared to be at the corner close to the Villa Rose at daylight. Why else should he have returned except to put back the car? Consider! The petrol is taken from tins which Servettaz might never have touched for a fortnight, and by that time he might, as he said, have forgotten whether he had not used them himself. I had this possibility in my mind when I put the questions to Servettaz about the petrol which the Commissaire thought so stupid. The utmost care is taken that there shall be no mould left on the floor of the carriage. The scrap of chiffon was torn off, no doubt, when the women finally left the car, and therefore not noticed, or that, too, would have been removed. That the exterior of the car was dirty betrayed nothing, for Servettaz had left it uncleaned." Hanaud leaned back and, step by step, related the journey of the car.