“As I tell you, Monsieur, I saw M. Kettering come out of his wife’s compartment just before the train drew in to Lyons. There was a look on his face⁠—ah! at the moment I could not understand it⁠—a look haunted and terrible. I shall never forget it.”

Her voice rose shrilly, and she flung out her arms in an extravagant gesture.

“Quite so,” said M. Carrège.

“Afterwards, when I found that Madame Kettering was dead when the train left Lyons, then⁠—then I knew!”

“And still⁠—you did not go to the police, Mademoiselle,” said the Commissary mildly.

Mirelle glanced at him superbly; she was clearly enjoying herself in the role she was playing.