"I will not," answered. M. Ricardo, superb in his magnanimity. "You are a good detective."
"Oh, thank you! thank you!" cried Hanaud in a voice which shook-surely with emotion. He wrung Ricardo’s hand. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.
And still Celia slept. M. Ricardo looked at her. He said to Hanaud in a whisper:
"Yet I do not understand. The car, though no serious search was made, must still have stopped at the Pont de La Caille on the Swiss side. Why did she not cry for help then? One cry and she was safe. A movement even was enough. Do you understand?"
Hanaud nodded his head.
"I think so," he answered, with a very gentle look at Celia. "Yes, I think so."
When Celia was aroused she found that the car had stopped before the door of an hotel, and that a woman in the dress of a nurse was standing in the doorway.
"You can trust Marie," said Hanaud. And Celia turned as she stood upon the ground and gave her hands to the two men.
"Thank you! Thank you both!" she said in a trembling voice. She looked at Hanaud and nodded her head. "You understand why I thank you so very much?"
"Yes," said Hanaud. "But, mademoiselle"-and he bent over the car and spoke to her quietly, holding her hand-"there is ALWAYS a big Newfoundland dog in the worst of troubles-if only you will look for him. I tell you so-I, who belong to the Surete in Paris. Do not lose heart!" And in his mind he added: "God forgive me for the lie." He shook her hand and let it go; and gathering up her skirt she went into the hall of the hotel.