"But what should I know? I take her up at the station, and all the way up the hill her head is every moment out of the window, crying, 'Faster, faster!' Oh, the good woman was in a hurry! But for me I take no notice. The more she shouts, the less I hear; I bury my head between my shoulders, and I look ahead of me and I take no notice. One cannot expect cab-horses to run up these hills; it is not reasonable." "So you went at a walk," said Hanaud. He beckoned to Ricardo, and said to the manager: "M. Besnard will, no doubt, be here in a few minutes, and he will send for the Juge d'Instruction. There is nothing that we can do." He went back to Ricardo's sitting-room and flung himself into a chair. He had been calm enough downstairs in the presence of the doctor and the body of the victim. Now, with only Ricardo for a witness, he gave way to distress. "It is terrible," he said. "The poor woman! It was I who brought her to Aix. It was through my carelessness. But who would have thought--?" He snatched his hands from his face and stood up. "I should have thought," he said solemnly. "Extraordinary daring--that was one of the qualities of my criminal. I knew it, and I disregarded it. Now we have a second crime." "The skewer may lead you to the criminal," said Mr. Ricardo. "The skewer!" cried Hanaud. "How will that help us? A knife, yes--perhaps. But a skewer!" "At the shops--there will not be so many in Aix at which you can buy skewers--they may remember to whom they sold one within the last day or so." "How do we know it was bought in the last day or so?" cried Hanaud scornfully. "We have not to do with a man who walks into a shop and buys a single skewer to commit a murder with, and so hands himself over to the police. How often must I say it!" The violence of his contempt nettled Ricardo. "If the murderer did not buy it, how did he obtain it?" he asked obstinately. "Oh, my friend, could he not have stolen it? From this or from any hotel in Aix? Would the loss of a skewer be noticed, do you think? How many people in Aix to-day have had rognons a la brochette for their luncheon! Besides, it is not merely the death of this poor woman which troubles me. We have lost the evidence which she was going to bring to us. She had something to tell us about Celie Harland which now we shall never hear. We have to begin all over again, and I tell you we have not the time to begin all over again. No, we have not the time. Time will be lost, and we have no time to lose." He buried his face again in his hands and groaned aloud. His grief was so violent and so sincere that Ricardo, shocked as he was by the murder of Marthe Gobin, set himself to console him. "But you could not have foreseen that at three o'clock in the afternoon at Aix--" Hanaud brushed the excuse aside.