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In
another
minute
we
were
face
to
face
with
the
mysterious
Madame
Daubreuil
.
She
was
not
nearly
so
tall
as
her
daughter
,
and
the
rounded
curves
of
her
figure
had
all
the
grace
of
full
maturity
.
Her
hair
,
again
unlike
her
daughter
’
s
,
was
dark
,
and
parted
in
the
middle
in
the
madonna
style
.
Her
eyes
,
half
hidden
by
the
drooping
lids
,
were
blue
.
There
was
a
dimple
in
the
round
chin
,
and
the
half
parted
lips
seemed
always
to
hover
on
the
verge
of
a
mysterious
smile
.
There
was
something
almost
exaggeratedly
feminine
about
her
,
at
once
yielding
and
seductive
.
Though
very
well
preserved
,
she
was
certainly
no
longer
young
,
but
her
charm
was
of
the
quality
which
is
independent
of
age
.
Standing
there
,
in
her
black
dress
with
the
fresh
white
collar
and
cuffs
,
her
hands
clasped
together
,
she
looked
subtly
appealing
and
helpless
.
“
You
wished
to
see
me
,
monsieur
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Yes
,
madame
.
”
M
.
Hautet
cleared
his
throat
.
“
I
am
investigating
the
death
of
M
.
Renauld
.
You
have
heard
of
it
,
no
doubt
?
”
She
bowed
her
head
without
speaking
.
Her
expression
did
not
change
.
“
We
came
to
ask
you
whether
you
can
—
er
—
throw
any
light
upon
the
circumstances
surrounding
it
?
”
“
I
?
”
The
surprise
of
her
tone
was
excellent
.
“
Yes
,
madame
.
It
would
,
perhaps
,
be
better
if
we
could
speak
to
you
alone
.
”
He
looked
meaningly
in
the
direction
of
the
girl
.
Madame
Daubreuil
turned
to
her
.
