'Did you touch it?'
She lifted a whimsical eyebrow. 'Oh, no! I waited for the police to discover it. I imagined I should wait a long time.'
'There may be fingerprints everywhere.. ..'
'Possibly,' she replied, with indifference. She waited for me to light the cigarette she had taken from the lacquer box. Then she said: ‘I am not greatly interested in Mademoiselle Martel's murder. But I didn't think you would overlook the leads that it must have been a woman - a woman who was not a member of the club.'
'Why?'
'The killer was after something which she wore on a gold chain round her neck.' She looked at me sharply. 'Isn't that clear?'
'We have already decided that it was the silver key.'
'Our opinions,' she murmured, 'coincide. I am happy to have thought of the same thing as the great Bencolin. Good! - Well, my dear boy, why did the killer want that key, except to get into the club? How did you yourself get here to-night?'
'Borrowed a key from a member.'
'Yes. You borrowed a man's key, which could be examined and checked at the door. Well, what on earth good would Mademoiselle Martel's key have done the murderer if the murderer had been a man? I am beginning to think he is stupid, that Bencolin ! . .. A woman took it. A woman who must have looked at least a little like Mademoiselle Martel herself, so that she could get in.'
She leaned back, stretching her arms above her head.
'Now,' I suggested, smiling, 'if you can produce a reason why the murderer wanted to get into the club ... ?'
'I am afraid that would be a little too much.'
'Or if I could find out whether a woman, presenting Mademoiselle Martel's key, got past the guards last night
She said, dryly, ‘I don't suppose you would care to go out and ask them, would you ?' 'You could.'
'Listen, my dear boy.' She exhaled smoke savagely. 'I don't care who killed Claudine Martel. I wouldn't walk a step out of my way to help you on that, because, whoever else it was, it couldn't have been Galant. So much I gather from what you've told me. All I want to do is get him - do you understand?'
'One involves the other.'
Her eyes narrowed. 'How so?'
'He's accessory after the fact, isn't he? - both he and the Prevost woman? And she's willing to turn State's evidence.'
She smoked for the first time in silence, and then nodded. 'Good. That goes. Now, then, what's the plan of campaign?'
'The first thing is whether you can get me out of here. Can you ?'
She shrugged. 'Something, my friend, has got to be done. They'll have finished looking in all the other rooms for you before very many minutes, and then . .. ' Drawing a finger across her throat, she studied me. 'I could, of course, call in my own attendants, gather the guests round, and march you out in full view. Dare Galant to do anything about it. It might mean trouble... .'
I saw her narrowed eyes fixed on me speculatively again. I shook my head.
'That won't do. Galant would be warned. He might not start a fight, but he'd be sure to get away before the police could be summoned.'
She said, tensely: 'Good child ! I like you better. Then have you nerve enough to try to get out of the front door in disguise? I'll go with you. You could pass as my - lover.'
'It would be a pleasure,' I said, 'even to adopt the pose.'
She tried not to notice that. She set her lips stonily.
'It will be dangerous. If you are caught. . .'
Again the whole heady excitement of juggling dynamite took possession of me. I said, truthfully : 'Believe me, mademoiselle, I have had more pure fun here to-night than in the last six years of my life. The adventure should end in glory.... Have you got a drink?’
'Be sensible! . .. Bien! You will have to leave your own coat and hat here. I can get you others. You must take off that bandage, and pull the hat down over the sticking-plaster; I don't think it will bleed. Your shirt is a mess also; you must cover it up. Have you a mask?'
'I lost it somewhere. In the court, I think.'
'I'll get you one that will cover your whole face. Finally, there's this. They'll guard the door well, and they'll probably ask everybody to exhibit his key on leaving. And they must have realized by now the key you are using. I'll get another. Wait while I look round. In the meantime, there is Napoleon brandy in that cabinet by the dressing-table.'
She hurried out of the door again. But this time she did not lock it. I got up. Pain darted up from the back of my skull and flowed in dizzy waves across my eyes, and my legs still felt light. But the exhilaration of the whole night steadied me. I leaned against the edge of the chaise-longue until the floor stopped wobbling and the room swam round again into focus. Then I picked my way over to the cabinet she had indicated.
The brandy was a Napoleon cognac, 1811, in a basket of silver filigree. Remembering how I had drunk brandy the night before, under this girl's stern and domestic eye, the whole fantasy became gloriously funny. I tossed down a huge drink, and felt its warmth crawl along my veins. That was better. I poured another. Then I caught sight of myself in a mirror over the dressing-table. . . . Gad! what a spectre! Like the result of a week's spree, pallor and all; bandage round my head, shirt a red-splattered ruin, and - so! That rat's knife had ripped the sleeve of my coat half-way up. He came fairly close, after all. I toasted the image in the mirror, gulping down a second big one. Steady! The image blurred a little. Brandy must have a queer effect when you felt like this.
I did a sort of eccentric dance-step, quite involuntarily, and surprised myself by bursting into laughter. The gilded storks and peacocks on the wall panels acquired a friendly expression. I noted the smoke of incense curling past the bronze bowls which held the lights, and the reek of the place had become intolerably hot.
Presently Marie Augustin came in. She had a soft black hat, rather too large, which she must have stolen from some guest, and a long cloak. When the arrangements had been made, we stood under the gilt cabinet, ready to put on our masks. She had turned out all the lights except the ornate silver one, shaped like a pagoda, which burnt on top of the cabinet....
The absence of light intensified the silence of this room. Now, faintly, I could hear the deep murmur of the orchestra from beyond the walls. Her face looked up, old ivory in the glow of the silver lamp. Her eyebrows were thin arches, her lips painted dark red....
'And,' she was saying, 'if we get past the outer door, what then?'
'Down into the waxworks. I must look at that knife,' I said, all the while conscious that I was not thinking about the knife at all. 'After that, the telephone. You had better give me your revolver.'
She passed it over. It was only a brushing of finger tips, but I could not move for looking at her. You thought of stuffy parlours with horsehair furniture; and behind these, mistily taking form, the weird glitter of the Arabian Nights. Slowly she reached up towards the chain of the lamp.
‘I wear black,' she said, pulling the mask down over her face. 'That is because - I have never had a lover.'
Inscrutable eyes shone for a moment through the holes in the mask. Then the light went out....
When we started for the door, she first motioned me back and glanced into the outer office. Then she nodded, and I followed through a dim room, hung with fantastic rugs, down to the glass-panelled door leading to the passage. In my hand I had the silver key belonging (she had said) to a member who had recently left for America. The murmur of the orchestra grew louder in our ears; it restored that dream-instability of a world peopled with goblins in vari-coloured masks. It was growing late, and the revel would nearly have reached its climax. .. .