The Ultimate Cozy Mysteries Collection. Эдгар Аллан По

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      “Not even why you’re here?”

      “Oh, that! I suppose you’ve heard of members of my profession ‘resting.’ ”

      “At expensive French watering-places?”

      “Dirt cheap if you know where to go.”

      I eyed her keenly.

      “Still, you’d no intention of coming here when I met you two days ago?”

      “We all have our disappointments,” said Miss Cinderella sententiously. “There now, I’ve told you quite as much as is good for you. Little boys should not be inquisitive. You’ve not yet told me what you’re doing here? Got the M.P. in tow, I suppose, doing the gay boy on the beach.”

      I shook my head. “Guess again. You remember my telling you that my great friend was a detective?”

      “Yes?”

      “And perhaps you’ve heard about this crime—at the Villa Geneviève—?”

      She stared at me. Her breast heaved, and her eyes grew wide and round.

      “You don’t mean—that you’re in on that?”

      I nodded. There was no doubt that I had scored heavily. Her emotion, as she regarded me, was only too evident. For some few seconds, she remained silent, staring at me. Then she nodded her head emphatically.

      “Well, if that doesn’t beat the band! Tote me round. I want to see all the horrors.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “What I say. Bless the boy, didn’t I tell you I doted on crimes? What do you think I’m imperilling my ankles for in high-heeled shoes over this stubble? I’ve been nosing round for hours. Tried the front way in, but that old stick-in-the-mud of a French gendarme wasn’t taking any. I guess Helen of Troy, and Cleopatra, and Mary, Queen of Scots, rolled in one wouldn’t cut ice with him! It’s a real piece of luck happening on you this way. Come on, show me all the sights.”

      “But look here—wait a minute—I can’t. Nobody’s allowed in. They’re awfully strict.”

      “Aren’t you and your friend the big bugs?”

      I was loath to relinquish my position of importance.

      “Why are you so keen?” I asked weakly. “And what is it you want to see.”

      “Oh, everything! The place where it happened, and the weapon, and the body, and any finger-prints or interesting things like that. I’ve never had a chance of being right in on a murder like this before. It’ll last me all my life?”

      I turned away, sickened. What were women coming to nowadays? The girl’s ghoulish excitement nauseated me. I had read of the mobs of women who besieged the law courts when some wretched man was being tried for his life on the capital charge. I had sometimes wondered who these women were. Now I knew. They were of the likeness of Cinderella, young, yet obsessed with a yearning for morbid excitement, for sensation at any price, without regard to any decency or good feeling. The vividness of the girl’s beauty had attracted me in spite of myself, yet at heart I retained my first impression of disapproval and dislike. I thought of my mother, long since dead. What would she have said of this strange modern product of girlhood? The pretty face with the paint and powder, and the ghoulish mind behind!

      “Come off your high horse,” said the lady suddenly. “And don’t give yourself airs. When you got called to this job, did you put your nose in the air and say it was a nasty business, and you wouldn’t be mixed up in it?”

      “No, but—”

      “If you’d been here on a holiday, wouldn’t you be nosing round just the same as I am? Of course you would.”

      “I’m a man. You’re a woman.”

      “Your idea of a woman is some one who gets on a chair and shrieks if she sees a mouse. That’s all prehistoric. But you will show me round, won’t you? You see, it might make a big difference to me.”

      “In what way?”

      “They’re keeping all the reporters out. I might make a big scoop with one of the papers. You don’t know how much they pay for a bit of inside stuff.”

      I hesitated. She slipped a small soft hand into mine.

      “Please—there’s a dear.”

      I capitulated. Secretly, I knew that I should rather enjoy the part of showman. After all, the moral attitude displayed by the girl was none of my business. I was a little nervous as to what the examining magistrate might say, but I reassured myself by the reflection that no harm could possibly be done.

      We repaired first to the spot where the body had been discovered. A man was on guard there, who saluted respectfully, knowing me by sight, and raised no question as to my companion. Presumably he regarded her as vouched for by me. I explained to Cinderella just how the discovery had been made, and she listened attentively, sometimes putting an intelligent question. Then we turned our steps in the direction of the Villa. I proceeded rather cautiously, for, truth to tell, I was not at all anxious to meet any one. I took the girl through the shrubbery round to the back of the house where the small shed was. I recollected that yesterday evening, after relocking the door, M. Bex had left the key with the sergent de ville Marchaud, “in case M. Giraud should require it while we are upstairs.” I thought it quite likely that the Sûreté detective, after using it, had returned it to Marchaud again. Leaving the girl out of sight in the shrubbery, I entered the house. Marchaud was on duty outside the door of the salon. From within came the murmur of voices.

      “Monsieur desires Hautet? He is within. He is again interrogating Françoise.”

      “No,” I said hastily, “I don’t want him. But I should very much like the key of the shed outside if it is not against regulations.”

      “But certainly, monsieur.” He produced it. “Here it is. M. le juge gave orders that all facilities were to be placed at your disposal. You will return it to me when you have finished out there, that is all.”

      “Of course.”

      I felt a thrill of satisfaction as I realized that in Marchaud’s eyes, at least, I ranked equally in importance with Poirot. The girl was waiting for me. She gave an exclamation of delight as she saw the key in my hand.

      “You’ve got it then?”

      “Of course,” I said coolly. “All the same, you know, what I’m doing is highly irregular.”

      “You’ve been a perfect duck, and I shan’t forget it. Come along. They can’t see us from the house, can they?”

      “Wait a minute.” I arrested her eager advance. “I won’t stop you if you really wish to go in. But do you? You’ve seen the grave, and the grounds, and you’ve heard all the details of the affair. Isn’t that enough for you? This is going to be gruesome, you know, and—unpleasant.”

      She looked at me for a moment with an expression that I could not quite fathom. Then she laughed.

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