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XXXII
I made myself comfortable at my observation post, in the shadow of the hallway, across from Mary's room.
 I rued my audacity. What fatal wish impelled me to mire myself in this affair? Why did I expose myself in this final stage, when I had so far arranged to remain marvelously free of nuisance and compromise? Why did I allow an unwholesome curiosity to separate me from Petronius, from literature, from film? I found the answer. I am an indefatigable observer of humanity, and in my eagerness to investigate idiosyncracies, reactions and characters, I am disposed to endure discomfort and to look danger in the face.
Commissioner Aubry appeared silently at the head of the stairwell and walked toward my hiding place. He carried the packet of jewels in his right hand. He stopped. I could have touched him if I had stretched out my hand. He knocked on the door. Emilia opened. I saw the commissioner's back, Emilia's face.
"I have the jewels here," the commissioner said. And he gave her the packet.
A chaste happiness slipped into Emilia's eyes. The commissioner went on, "Your boyfriend has sent them."
"He found them?"
"He didn't find them. He's returning them."
Emilia looked incomprehendingly at him.
"The delivery amounts to a confession," the commissioner made brutally plain. "Atwell killed Miss Mary. My men are looking for him right now in the crab-grounds. I hope they find him alive."
"You're deceiving me!" Emilia cried, and I felt sure that hysteria was overpowering her. "He's already dead. He did it to save me. I'm asking you to believe me: he did it to save me. Everything is my fault."
Then there was a confusing scene in which the commissioner tried to calm Emilia; next, a long conversation in a persuasive tone; then, an almost friendly farewell. The commissioner stepped into the hall, closed the door, and moved away with a confident step.
I remained motionless, huddled. How much time had passed? Perhaps ten minutes. Perhaps a half hour. In the dead girl's room something fell heavily. My hand, pale and shaking, grasped the doorknob. Before I opened it, I knew what I would find. Emilia's body lay on the floor. There was a bottle on the table. From the label I read the word strychnine.
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