"No. And was I not wise?" said Hanaud, with complacency. "For you would have forbidden me to use your name." "Oh, I don't go so far as that," said Ricardo reluctantly. His indignation was rapidly evaporating. For there was growing up in his mind a pleasant perception that the advertisement placed him in the limelight. He rose from his bed. "You will make yourself comfortable in the sitting-room while I have my bath." "I will, indeed," replied Hanaud cheerily. "I have already ordered my morning chocolate. I have hopes that you may have a telegram very soon. This paper was cried last night through the streets of Geneva." Ricardo dressed for once in a way with some approach to ordinary celerity, and joined Hanaud. "Has nothing come?" he asked. "No. This chocolate is very good; it is better than that which I get in my hotel." "Good heavens!" cried Ricardo, who was fairly twittering with excitement. "You sit there talking about chocolate while my cup shakes in my fingers." "Again I must remind you that you are the amateur, I the professional, my friend." As the morning drew on, however, Hanaud's professional quietude deserted him. He began to start at the sound of footsteps in the corridor, to glance every other moment from the window, to eat his cigarettes rather than to smoke them. At eleven o'clock Ricardo's valet brought a telegram into the room. Ricardo seized it. "Calmly, my friend," said Hanaud. With trembling fingers Ricardo tore it open. He jumped in his chair. Speechless, he handed the telegram to Hanaud. It had been sent from Geneva, and it ran thus: "Expect me soon after three.--MARTHE GOBIN." Hanaud nodded his head. "I told you I had hopes." All his levity had gone in an instant from his manner. He spoke very quietly. "I had better send for Wethermill?" asked Ricardo. Hanaud shrugged his shoulders. "As you like. But why raise hopes in that poor man's breast which an hour or two may dash for ever to the ground? Consider! Marthe Gobin has something to tell us. Think over those eight points of evidence which you drew up yesterday in the Villa des Fleurs, and say whether what she has to tell us is more likely to prove Mlle. Celie's innocence than her guilt. Think well, for I will be guided by you, M. Ricardo," said Hanaud solemnly. "If you think it better that your friend should live in torture until Marthe Gobin comes, and then perhaps suffer worse torture from the news she brings, be it so. You shall decide. If, on the other hand, you think it will be best to leave M. Wethermill in peace until we know her story, be it so. You shall decide." Ricardo moved uneasily. The solemnity of Hanaud's manner impressed him. He had no wish to take the responsibility of the decision upon himself. But Hanaud sat with his eyes strangely fixed upon Ricardo, waiting for his answer. "Well," said Ricardo, at length, "good news will be none the worse for waiting a few hours. Bad news will be a little the better."