Heathcote discovered later that Mademoiselle Beauville cherished one bitter and unappeasable hatred, and that was against Messrs. Spricht, Van Klopen, and the whole confraternity of men-milliners.
"Then Madame Lemarque is dead, I apprehend, Mademoiselle?"
"Madame Lemarque died last June."
"Suddenly?"
"No, she had been ailing for some time. But the end came more quickly than she expected. My poor friend had but a short time in which to arrange her affairs."
"Was her granddaughter Léonie living with her at the time of her death?"
"She was. But what do you know about Léonie?"
The ex-detective laid his hand hastily upon Heathcote's wrist before he could answer.
"Answer nothing until we have heard what she can tell us," he whispered.
"I know very little about her, but I am anxious to know more; and if you should be a loser by the waste of your time in answering my inquiries, I shall be most happy to recompense you for that loss," said Heathcote.