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diff --git a/11451-0.txt b/11451-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..78dfa23 --- /dev/null +++ b/11451-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4888 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11451 *** + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: “M. Floçon interposed with uplifted hand.”] + + + + +The ROME EXPRESS + +By Arthur Griffiths + + +With a frontispiece in colours By Arthur O. Scott + +1907 + + + + +Contents + + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + CHAPTER XX. + + + + +THE ROME EXPRESS + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Rome Express, the _direttissimo_, or most direct, was approaching +Paris one morning in March, when it became known to the occupants of +the sleeping-car that there was something amiss, very much amiss, in +the car. + +The train was travelling the last stage, between Laroche and Paris, a +run of a hundred miles without a stop. It had halted at Laroche for +early breakfast, and many, if not all the passengers, had turned out. +Of those in the sleeping-car, seven in number, six had been seen in the +restaurant, or about the platform; the seventh, a lady, had not +stirred. All had reëntered their berths to sleep or doze when the train +went on, but several were on the move as it neared Paris, taking their +turn at the lavatory, calling for water, towels, making the usual stir +of preparation as the end of a journey was at hand. + +There were many calls for the porter, yet no porter appeared. At last +the attendant was found—lazy villain!—asleep, snoring loudly, +stertorously, in his little bunk at the end of the car. He was roused +with difficulty, and set about his work in a dull, unwilling, lethargic +way, which promised badly for his tips from those he was supposed to +serve. + +By degrees all the passengers got dressed, all but two,—the lady in 9 +and 10, who had made no sign as yet; and the man who occupied alone a +double berth next her, numbered 7 and 8. + +As it was the porter’s duty to call every one, and as he was anxious, +like the rest of his class, to get rid of his travellers as soon as +possible after arrival, he rapped at each of the two closed doors +behind which people presumably still slept. + +The lady cried “All right,” but there was no answer from No. 7 and 8. + +Again and again the porter knocked and called loudly. Still meeting +with no response, he opened the door of the compartment and went in. + +It was now broad daylight. No blind was down; indeed, the one narrow +window was open, wide; and the whole of the interior of the compartment +was plainly visible, all and everything in it. + +The occupant lay on his bed motionless. Sound asleep? No, not merely +asleep—the twisted unnatural lie of the limbs, the contorted legs, the +one arm drooping listlessly but stiffly over the side of the berth, +told of a deeper, more eternal sleep. + +The man was dead. Dead—and not from natural causes. + +One glance at the blood-stained bedclothes, one look at the gaping +wound in the breast, at the battered, mangled face, told the terrible +story. + +It was murder! murder most foul! The victim had been stabbed to the +heart. + +With a wild, affrighted, cry the porter rushed out of the compartment, +and to the eager questioning of all who crowded round him, he could +only mutter in confused and trembling accents: + +“There! there! in there!” + +Thus the fact of the murder became known to every one by personal +inspection, for every one (even the lady had appeared for just a +moment) had looked in where the body lay. The compartment was filled +for some ten minutes or more by an excited, gesticulating, polyglot mob +of half a dozen, all talking at once in French, English, and Italian. + +The first attempt to restore order was made by a tall man, middle-aged, +but erect in his bearing, with bright eyes and alert manner, who took +the porter aside, and said sharply in good French, but with a strong +English accent: + +“Here! it’s your business to do something. No one has any right to be +in that compartment now. There may be reasons—traces—things to remove; +never mind what. But get them all out. Be sharp about it; and lock the +door. Remember you will be held responsible to justice.” + +The porter shuddered, so did many of the passengers who had overheard +the Englishman’s last words. + +Justice! It is not to be trifled with anywhere, least of all in France, +where the uncomfortable superstition prevails that every one who can be +reasonably suspected of a crime is held to be guilty of that crime +until his innocence is clearly proved. + +All those six passengers and the porter were now brought within the +category of the accused. They were all open to suspicion; they, and +they alone, for the murdered man had been seen alive at Laroche, and +the fell deed must have been done since then, while the train was in +transit, that is to say, going at express speed, when no one could +leave it except at peril of his life. + +“Deuced awkward for us!” said the tall English general, Sir Charles +Collingham by name, to his brother the parson, when he had reëntered +their compartment and shut the door. + +“I can’t see it. In what way?” asked the Reverend Silas Collingham, a +typical English cleric, with a rubicund face and square-cut white +whiskers, dressed in a suit of black serge, and wearing the +professional white tie. + +“Why, we shall be detained, of course; arrested, probably—certainly +detained. Examined, cross-examined, bully-ragged—I know something of +the French police and their ways.” + +“If they stop us, I shall write to the _Times_” cried his brother, by +profession a man of peace, but with a choleric eye that told of an +angry temperament. + +“By all means, my dear Silas, when you get the chance. That won’t be +just yet, for I tell you we’re in a tight place, and may expect a good +deal of worry.” With that he took out his cigarette-case, and his +match-box, lighted his cigarette, and calmly watched the smoke rising +with all the coolness of an old campaigner accustomed to encounter and +face the ups and downs of life. “I only hope to goodness they’ll run +straight on to Paris,” he added in a fervent tone, not unmixed with +apprehension. “No! By jingo, we’re slackening speed—.” + +“Why shouldn’t we? It’s right the conductor, or chief of the train, or +whatever you call him, should know what has happened.” + +“Why, man, can’t you see? While the train is travelling express, every +one must stay on board it; if it slows, it is possible to leave it.” + +“Who would want to leave it?” + +“Oh, I don’t know,” said the General, rather testily. “Any way, the +thing’s done now.” + +The train had pulled up in obedience to the signal of alarm given by +some one in the sleeping-car, but by whom it was impossible to say. Not +by the porter, for he seemed greatly surprised as the conductor came up +to him. + +“How did you know?” he asked. + +“Know! Know what? You stopped me.” + +“I didn’t.” + +“Who rang the bell, then?” + +“I did not. But I’m glad you’ve come. There has been a crime—murder.” + +“Good Heavens!” cried the conductor, jumping up on to the car, and +entering into the situation at once. His business was only to verify +the fact, and take all necessary precautions. He was a burly, brusque, +peremptory person, the despotic, self-important French official, who +knew what to do—as he thought—and did it without hesitation or apology. + +“No one must leave the car,” he said in a tone not to be misunderstood. +“Neither now, nor on arrival at the station.” + +There was a shout of protest and dismay, which he quickly cut short. + +“You will have to arrange it with the authorities in Paris; they can +alone decide. My duty is plain: to detain you, place you under +surveillance till then. Afterwards, we will see. Enough, gentlemen and +madame”— + +He bowed with the instinctive gallantry of his nation to the female +figure which now appeared at the door of her compartment. She stood for +a moment listening, seemingly greatly agitated, and then, without a +word, disappeared, retreating hastily into her own private room, where +she shut herself in. + +Almost immediately, at a signal from the conductor, the train resumed +its journey. The distance remaining to be traversed was short; half an +hour more, and the Lyons station, at Paris, was reached, where the bulk +of the passengers—all, indeed, but the occupants of the +sleeper—descended and passed through the barriers. The latter were +again desired to keep their places, while a posse of officials came and +mounted guard. Presently they were told to leave the car one by one, +but to take nothing with them. All their hand-bags, rugs, and +belongings were to remain in the berths, just as they lay. One by one +they were marched under escort to a large and bare waiting-room, which +had, no doubt, been prepared for their reception. + +Here they took their seats on chairs placed at wide intervals apart, +and were peremptorily forbidden to hold any communication with each +other, by word or gesture. This order was enforced by a fierce-looking +guard in blue and red uniform, who stood facing them with his arms +folded, gnawing his moustache and frowning severely. + +Last of all, the porter was brought in and treated like the passengers, +but more distinctly as a prisoner. He had a guard all to himself; and +it seemed as though he was the object of peculiar suspicion. It had no +great effect upon him, for, while the rest of the party were very +plainly sad, and a prey to lively apprehension, the porter sat dull and +unmoved, with the stolid, sluggish, unconcerned aspect of a man just +roused from sound sleep and relapsing into slumber, who takes little +notice of what is passing around. + +Meanwhile, the sleeping-car, with its contents, especially the corpse +of the victim, was shunted into a siding, and sentries were placed on +it at both ends. Seals had been affixed upon the entrance doors, so +that the interior might be kept inviolate until it could be visited and +examined by the Chef de la Surêté, or Chief of the Detective Service. +Every one and everything awaited the arrival of this all-important +functionary. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +M. Floçon, the Chief, was an early man, and he paid a first visit to +his office about 7 A.M. + +He lived just round the corner in the Rue des Arcs, and had not far to +go to the Prefecture. But even now, soon after daylight, he was +correctly dressed, as became a responsible ministerial officer. He wore +a tight frock coat and an immaculate white tie; under his arm he +carried the regulation portfolio, or lawyer’s bag, stuffed full of +reports, dispositions, and documents dealing with cases in hand. He was +altogether a very precise and natty little personage, quiet and +unpretending in demeanour, with a mild, thoughtful face in which two +small ferrety eyes blinked and twinkled behind gold-rimmed glasses. But +when things went wrong, when he had to deal with fools, or when scent +was keen, or the enemy near, he would become as fierce and eager as any +terrier. + +He had just taken his place at his table and begun to arrange his +papers, which, being a man of method, he kept carefully sorted by lots +each in an old copy of the _Figaro_, when he was called to the +telephone. His services were greatly needed, as we know, at the Lyons +station and the summons was to the following effect: + +“Crime on train No. 45. A man murdered in the sleeper. All the +passengers held. Please come at once. Most important.” + +A fiacre was called instantly, and M. Floçon, accompanied by Galipaud +and Block, the two first inspectors for duty, was driven with all +possible speed across Paris. + +He was met outside the station, just under the wide verandah, by the +officials, who gave him a brief outline of the facts, so far as they +were known, and as they have already been put before the reader. + +“The passengers have been detained?” asked M. Floçon at once. + +“Those in the sleeping-car only—” + +“Tut, tut! they should have been all kept—at least until you had taken +their names and addresses. Who knows what they might not have been able +to tell?” + +It was suggested that as the crime was committed presumably while the +train was in motion, only those in the one car could be implicated. + +“We should never jump to conclusions,” said the Chief snappishly. +“Well, show me the train card—the list of the travellers in the +sleeper.” + +“It cannot be found, sir.” + +“Impossible! Why, it is the porter’s business to deliver it at the end +of the journey to his superiors, and under the law—to us. Where is the +porter? In custody?” + +“Surely, sir, but there is something wrong with him.” + +“So I should think! Nothing of this kind could well occur without his +knowledge. If he was doing his duty—unless, of course, he—but let us +avoid hasty conjectures.” + +“He has also lost the passengers’ tickets, which you know he retains +till the end of the journey. After the catastrophe, however, he was +unable to lay his hand upon his pocket-book. It contained all his +papers.” + +“Worse and worse. There is something behind all this. Take me to him. +Stay, can I have a private room close to the other—where the prisoners, +those held on suspicion, are? It will be necessary to hold +investigations, take their depositions. M. le Juge will be here +directly.” + +M. Floçon was soon installed in a room actually communicating with the +waiting-room, and as a preliminary of the first importance, taking +precedence even of the examination of the sleeping-car, he ordered the +porter to be brought in to answer certain questions. + +The man, Ludwig Groote, as he presently gave his name, thirty-two years +of age, born at Amsterdam, looked such a sluggish, slouching, +blear-eyed creature that M. Floçon began by a sharp rebuke. + +“Now. Sharp! Are you always like this?” cried the Chief. + +The porter still stared straight before him with lack-lustre eyes, and +made no immediate reply. + +“Are you drunk? are you—Can it be possible?” he said, and in vague +reply to a sudden strong suspicion, he went on: + +“What were you doing between Laroche and Paris? Sleeping?” + +The man roused himself a little. “I think I slept. I must have slept. I +was very drowsy. I had been up two nights; but so it is always, and I +am not like this generally. I do not understand.” + +“Hah!” The Chief thought he understood. “Did you feel this drowsiness +before leaving Laroche?” + +“No, monsieur, I did not. Certainly not. I was fresh till then—quite +fresh.” + +“Hum; exactly; I see;” and the little Chief jumped to his feet and ran +round to where the porter stood sheepishly, and sniffed and smelt at +him. + +“Yes, yes.” Sniff, sniff, sniff, the little man danced round and round +him, then took hold of the porter’s head with one hand, and with the +other turned down his lower eyelid so as to expose the eyeball, sniffed +a little more, and then resumed his seat. + +“Exactly. And now, where is your train card?” + +“Pardon, monsieur, I cannot find it.” + +“That is absurd. Where do you keep it? Look again—search—I must have +it.” + +The porter shook his head hopelessly. + +“It is gone, monsieur, and my pocket-book.” + +“But your papers, the tickets—” + +“Everything was in it, monsieur. I must have dropped it.” + +Strange, very strange. However—the fact was to be recorded, for the +moment. He could of course return to it. + +“You can give me the names of the passengers?” + +“No, monsieur. Not exactly. I cannot remember, not enough to +distinguish between them.” + +“_Fichtre!_ But this is most devilishly irritating. To think that I +have to do with a man so stupid—such an idiot, such an ass!” + +“At least you know how the berths were occupied, how many in each, and +which persons? Yes? You can tell me that? Well, go on. By and by we +will have the passengers in, and you can fix their places, after I have +ascertained their names. Now, please! For how many was the car?” + +“Sixteen. There were two compartments of four berths each, and four of +two berths each.” + +“Stay, let us make a plan. I will draw it. Here, now, is that right?” +and the Chief held up the rough diagram, here shown— + +[Illustration] + +“Here we have the six compartments. Now take _a_, with berths 1, 2, 3, +and 4. Were they all occupied?” + +“No; only two, by Englishmen. I know that they talked English, which I +understand a little. One was a soldier; the other, I think, a +clergyman, or priest.” + +“Good! we can verify that directly. Now, _b_, with berths 5 and 6. Who +was there?” + +“One gentleman. I don’t remember his name. But I shall know him by +appearance.” + +“Go on. In _c_, two berths, 7 and 8?” + +“Also one gentleman. It was he who—I mean, that is where the crime +occurred.” + +“Ah, indeed, in 7 and 8? Very well. And the next, 9 and 10?” + +“A lady. Our only lady. She came from Rome.” + +“One moment. Where did the rest come from? Did any embark on the road?” + +“No, monsieur; all the passengers travelled through from Rome.” + +“The dead man included? Was he Roman?” + +“That I cannot say, but he came on board at Rome.” + +“Very well. This lady—she was alone?” + +“In the compartment, yes. But not altogether.” + +“I do not understand!” + +“She had her servant with her.” + +“In the car?” + +“No, not in the car. As a passenger by second class. But she came to +her mistress sometimes, in the car.” + +“For her service, I presume?” + +“Well, yes, monsieur, when I would permit it. But she came a little too +often, and I was compelled to protest, to speak to Madame la Comtesse—” + +“She was a countess, then?” + +“The maid addressed her by that title. That is all I know. I heard +her.” + +“When did you see the lady’s maid last?” + +“Last night. I think at Amberieux. about 8 p.m.” + +“Not this morning?” + +“No, sir, I am quite sure of that.” + +“Not at Laroche? She did not come on board to stay, for the last stage, +when her mistress would be getting up, dressing, and likely to require +her?” + +“No; I should not have permitted it.” + +“And where is the maid now, d’you suppose?” + +The porter looked at him with an air of complete imbecility. + +“She is surely somewhere near, in or about the station. She would +hardly desert her mistress now,” he said, stupidly, at last. + +“At any rate we can soon settle that.” The Chief turned to one of his +assistants, both of whom had been standing behind him all the time, and +said: + +“Step out, Galipaud, and see. No, wait. I am nearly as stupid as this +simpleton. Describe this maid.” + +“Tall and slight, dark-eyed, very black hair. Dressed all in black, +plain black bonnet. I cannot remember more.” + +“Find her, Galipaud—keep your eye on her. We may want her—why, I cannot +say, as she seems disconnected with the event, but still she ought to +be at hand.” Then, turning to the porter, he went on. “Finish, please. +You said 9 and 10 was the lady’s. Well, 11 and 12?” + +“It was vacant all through the run.” + +“And the last compartment, for four?” + +“There were two berths, occupied both by Frenchmen, at least so I +judged them. They talked French to each other and to me.” + +“Then now we have them all. Stand aside, please, and I will make the +passengers come in. We will then determine their places and affix their +names from their own admissions. Call them in, Block, one by one.” + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The questions put by M. Floçon were much the same in every case, and +were limited in this early stage of the inquiry to the one point of +identity. + +The first who entered was a Frenchman. He was a jovial, fat-faced, +portly man, who answered to the name of Anatole Lafolay, and who +described himself as a traveller in precious stones. The berth he had +occupied was No. 13 in compartment _f_. His companion in the berth was +a younger man, smaller, slighter, but of much the same stamp. His name +was Jules Devaux, and he was a commission agent. His berth had been No. +15 in the same compartment, _f_. Both these Frenchmen gave their +addresses with the names of many people to whom they were well known, +and established at once a reputation for respectability which was +greatly in their favour. + +The third to appear was the tall, gray-headed Englishman, who had taken +a certain lead at the first discovery of the crime. He called himself +General Sir Charles Collingham, an officer of her Majesty’s army; and +the clergyman who shared the compartment was his brother, the Reverend +Silas Collingham, rector of Theakstone-Lammas, in the county of +Norfolk. Their berths were numbered 1 and 4 in _a_. + +Before the English General was dismissed, he asked whether he was +likely to be detained. + +“For the present, yes,” replied M. Floçon, briefly. He did not care to +be asked questions. That, under the circumstances, was his business. + +“Because I should like to communicate with the British Embassy.” + +“You are known there?” asked the detective, not choosing to believe the +story at first. It might be a ruse of some sort. + +“I know Lord Dufferin personally; I was with him in India. Also Colonel +Papillon, the military attaché; we were in the same regiment. If I sent +to the Embassy, the latter would, no doubt, come himself.” + +“How do you propose to send?” + +“That is for you to decide. All I wish is that it should be known that +my brother and I are detained under suspicion, and incriminated.” + +“Hardly that, Monsieur le General. But it shall be as you wish. We will +telephone from here to the post nearest the Embassy to inform his +Excellency—” + +“Certainly, Lord Dufferin, and my friend, Colonel Papillon.” + +“Of what has occurred. And now, if you will permit me to proceed?” + +So the single occupant of the compartment _b_, that adjoining the +Englishmen, was called in. He was an Italian, by name Natale Ripaldi; a +dark-skinned man, with very black hair and a bristling black moustache. +He wore a long dark cloak of the Inverness order, and, with the slouch +hat he carried in his hand, and his downcast, secretive look, he had +the rather conventional aspect of a conspirator. + +“If monsieur permits,” he volunteered to say after the formal +questioning was over, “I can throw some light on this catastrophe.” + +“And how so, pray? Did you assist? Were you present? If so, why wait to +speak till now?” said the detective, receiving the advance rather +coldly. It behooved him to be very much on his guard. + +“I have had no opportunity till now of addressing any one in authority. +You are in authority, I presume?” + +“I am the Chief of the Detective Service.” + +“Then, monsieur, remember, please, that I can give some useful +information when called upon. Now, indeed, if you will receive it.” + +M. Floçon was so anxious to approach the inquiry without prejudice that +he put up his hand. + +“We will wait, if you please. When M. le Juge arrives, then, perhaps; +at any rate, at a later stage. That will do now, thank you.” + +The Italian’s lip curled with a slight indication of contempt at the +French detective’s methods, but he bowed without speaking, and went +out. + +Last of all the lady appeared, in a long sealskin travelling cloak, and +closely veiled. She answered M. Floçon’s questions in a low, tremulous +voice, as though greatly perturbed. + +She was the Contessa di Castagneto, she said, an Englishwoman by birth; +but her husband had been an Italian, as the name implied, and they +resided in Rome. He was dead—she had been a widow for two or three +years, and was on her way now to London. + +“That will do, madame, thank you,” said the detective, politely, “for +the present at least.” + +“Why, are we likely to be detained? I trust not.” Her voice became +appealing, almost piteous. Her hands, restlessly moving, showed how +much she was distressed. + +“Indeed, Madame la Comtesse, it must be so. I regret it infinitely; but +until we have gone further into this, have elicited some facts, arrived +at some conclusions—But there, madame, I need not, must not say more.” + +“Oh, monsieur, I was so anxious to continue my journey. Friends are +awaiting me in London. I do hope—I most earnestly beg and entreat you +to spare me. I am not very strong; my health is indifferent. Do, sir, +be so good as to release me from—” + +As she spoke, she raised her veil, and showed what no woman wishes to +hide, least of all when seeking the good-will of one of the opposite +sex. She had a handsome face—strikingly so. Not even the long journey, +the fatigue, the worries and anxieties which had supervened, could rob +her of her marvellous beauty. + +She was a brilliant brunette, dark-skinned; but her complexion was of a +clear, pale olive, and as soft, as lustrous as pure ivory. Her great +eyes, of a deep velvety brown, were saddened by near tears. She had +rich red lips, the only colour in her face, and these, habitually +slightly apart, showed pearly-white glistening teeth. + +It was difficult to look at this charming woman without being affected +by her beauty. M. Floçon was a Frenchman, gallant and impressionable; +yet he steeled his heart. A detective must beware of sentiment, and he +seemed to see something insidious in this appeal, which he resented. + +“Madame, it is useless,” he answered gruffly. “I do not make the law; I +have only to support it. Every good citizen is bound to that.” + +“I trust I am a good citizen,” said the Countess, with a wan smile, but +very wearily. “Still, I should wish to be let off now. I have suffered +greatly, terribly, by this horrible catastrophe. My nerves are quite +shattered. It is too cruel. However, I can say no more, except to ask +that you will let my maid come to me.” + +M. Floçon, still obdurate, would not even consent to that. + +“I fear, madame, that for the present at least you cannot be allowed to +communicate with any one, not even with your maid.” + +“But she is not implicated; she was not in the car. I have not seen her +since—” + +“Since?” repeated M. Floçon, after a pause. + +“Since last night, at Amberieux, about eight o’clock. She helped me to +undress, and saw me to bed. I sent her away then, and said I should not +need her till we reached Paris. But I want her now, indeed I do.” + +“She did not come to you at Laroche?” + +“No. Have I not said so? The porter,”—here she pointed to the man, who +stood staring at her from the other side of the table,—“he made +difficulties about her being in the car, saying that she came too +often, stayed too long, that I must pay for her berth, and so on. I did +not see why I should do that; so she stayed away.” + +“Except from time to time?” + +“Precisely.” + +“And the last time was at Amberieux?” + +“As I have told you, and he will tell you the same.” + +“Thank you, madame, that will do.” The Chief rose from his chair, +plainly intimating that the interview was at an end. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +He had other work to do, and was eager to get at it. So he left Block +to show the Countess back to the waiting-room, and, motioning to the +porter that he might also go, the Chief hastened to the sleeping-car, +the examination of which, too long delayed, claimed his urgent +attention. + +It is the first duty of a good detective to visit the actual theatre of +a crime and overhaul it inch by inch,—seeking, searching, +investigating, looking for any, even the most insignificant, traces of +the murderer’s hands. + +The sleeping-car, as I have said, had been side-tracked, its doors were +sealed, and it was under strict watch and ward. But everything, of +course, gave way before the detective, and, breaking through the seals, +he walked in, making straight for the little room or compartment where +the body of the victim still lay untended and absolutely untouched. + +It was a ghastly sight, although not new in M. Floçon’s experience. +There lay the corpse in the narrow berth, just as it had been stricken. +It was partially undressed, wearing only shirt and drawers. The former +lay open at the chest, and showed the gaping wound that had, no doubt, +caused death, probably instantaneous death. But other blows had been +struck; there must have been a struggle, fierce and embittered, as for +dear life. The savage truculence of the murderer had triumphed, but not +until he had battered in the face, destroying features and rendering +recognition almost impossible. + +A knife had given the mortal wound; that was at once apparent from the +shape of the wound. It was the knife, too, which had gashed and stabbed +the face, almost wantonly; for some of these wounds had not bled, and +the plain inference was that they had been inflicted after life had +sped. M. Floçon examined the body closely, but without disturbing it. +The police medical officer would wish to see it as it was found. The +exact position, as well as the nature of the wounds, might afford +evidence as to the manner of death. + +But the Chief looked long, and with absorbed, concentrated interest, at +the murdered man, noting all he actually saw, and conjecturing a good +deal more. + +The features of the mutilated face were all but unrecognizable, but the +hair, which was abundant, was long, black, and inclined to curl; the +black moustache was thick and drooping. The shirt was of fine linen, +the drawers silk. On one finger were two good rings, the hands were +clean, the nails well kept, and there was every evidence that the man +did not live by manual labour. He was of the easy, cultured class, as +distinct from the workman or operative. + +This conclusion was borne out by his light baggage, which still lay +about the berth,—hat-box, rugs, umbrella, brown morocco hand-bag. All +were the property of some one well to do, or at least possessed of +decent belongings. One or two pieces bore a monogram, “F.Q.,” the same +as on the shirt and under-linen; but on the bag was a luggage label, +with the name, “Francis Quadling, passenger to Paris,” in full. Its +owner had apparently no reason to conceal his name. More strangely, +those who had done him to death had been at no pains to remove all +traces of his identity. + +M. Floçon opened the hand-bag, seeking for further evidence; but found +nothing of importance,—only loose collars, cuffs, a sponge and +slippers, two Italian newspapers of an earlier date. No money, +valuables, or papers. All these had been removed probably, and +presumably, by the perpetrator of the crime. + +Having settled the first preliminary but essential points, he next +surveyed the whole compartment critically. Now, for the first time, he +was struck with the fact that the window was open to its full height. +Since when was this? It was a question to be put presently to the +porter and any others who had entered the car, but the discovery drew +him to examine the window more closely, and with good results. + +At the ledge, caught on a projecting point on the far side, partly in, +partly out of the car, was a morsel of white lace, a scrap of feminine +apparel; although what part, or how it had come there, was not at once +obvious to M. Floçon. A long and minute inspection of this bit of lace, +which he was careful not to detach as yet from the place in which he +found it, showed that it was ragged, and frayed, and fast caught where +it hung. It could not have been blown there by any chance air; it must +have been torn from the article to which it belonged, whatever that +might be,—head-dress, nightcap, night-dress, or handkerchief. The lace +was of a kind to serve any of these purposes. + +Inspecting further, M. Floçon made a second discovery. On the small +table under the window was a short length of black jet beading, part of +the trimming or ornamentation of a lady’s dress. + +These two objects of feminine origin—one partly outside the car, the +other near it, but quite inside—gave rise to many conjectures. It led, +however, to the inevitable conclusion that a woman had been at some +time or other in the berth. M. Floçon could not but connect these two +finds with the fact of the open window. The latter might, of course, +have been the work of the murdered man himself at an earlier hour. Yet +it is unusual, as the detective imagined, for a passenger, and +especially an Italian, to lie under an open window in a sleeping-berth +when travelling by express train before daylight in March. + +Who opened that window, then, and why? Perhaps some further facts might +be found on the outside of the car. With this idea, M. Floçon left it, +and passed on to the line or permanent way. + +Here he found himself a good deal below the level of the car. These +sleepers have no foot-boards like ordinary carriages; access to them is +gained from a platform by the steps at each end. The Chief was short of +stature, and he could only approach the window outside by calling one +of the guards and ordering him to make the small ladder (_faire la +petite echelle_). This meant stooping and giving a back, on which +little M. Floçon climbed nimbly, and so was raised to the necessary +height. + +A close scrutiny revealed nothing unusual. The exterior of the car was +encrusted with the mud and dust gathered in the journey, none of which +appeared to have been disturbed. + +M. Floçon reëntered the carriage neither disappointed nor pleased; his +mind was in an open state, ready to receive any impressions, and as yet +only one that was at all clear and distinct was borne in on him. + +This was the presence of the lace and the jet beads in the theatre of +the crime. The inference was fair and simple. He came logically and +surely to this: + +1. That some woman had entered the compartment. + +2. That whether or not she had come in before the crime, she was there +after the window had been opened, which was not done by the murdered +man. + +3. That she had leaned out, or partly passed out, of the window at some +time or other, as the scrap of lace testified. + +4. Why had she leaned out? To seek some means of exit or escape, of +course. + +But escape from whom? from what? The murderer? Then she must know him, +and unless an accomplice (if so, why run from him?), she would give up +her knowledge on compulsion, if not voluntarily, as seemed doubtful, +seeing she (his suspicions were consolidating) had not done so already. + +But there might be another even stronger reason to attempt escape at +such imminent risk as leaving an express train at full speed. To escape +from her own act and the consequences it must entail—escape from horror +first, from detection next, and then from arrest and punishment. + +All this would imperiously impel even a weak woman to face the worst +peril, to look out, lean out, even try the terrible but impossible feat +of climbing out of the car. + +So M. Floçon, by fair process of reasoning, reached a point which +incriminated one woman, the only woman possible, and that was the +titled, high-bred lady who called herself the Contessa di Castagneto. + +This conclusion gave a definite direction to further search. Consulting +the rough plan which he had constructed to take the place of the +missing train card, he entered the compartment which the Countess had +occupied, and which was actually next door. + +It was in the tumbled, untidy condition of a sleeping-place but just +vacated. The sex and quality of its recent occupant were plainly +apparent in the goods and chattels lying about, the property and +possessions of a delicate, well-bred woman of the world, things still +left as she had used them last—rugs still unrolled, a pair of +easy-slippers on the floor, the sponge in its waterproof bag on the +bed, brushes, bottles, button-hook, hand-glass, many things belonging +to the dressing-bag, not yet returned to that receptacle. The maid was +no doubt to have attended to all these, but as she had not come, they +remained unpacked and strewn about in some disorder. + +M. Floçon pounced down upon the contents of the berth, and commenced an +immediate search for a lace scarf, or any wrap or cover with lace. + +He found nothing, and was hardly disappointed. It told more against the +Countess, who, if innocent, would have no reason to conceal or make +away with a possibly incriminating possession, the need for which she +could not of course understand. + +Next, he handled the dressing-bag, and with deft fingers replaced +everything. + +Everything was forthcoming but one glass bottle, a small one, the +absence of which he noted, but thought of little consequence, till, by +and by, he came upon it under peculiar circumstances. + +Before leaving the car, and after walking through the other +compartments, M. Floçon made an especially strict search of the corner +where the porter had his own small chair, his only resting-place, +indeed, throughout the journey. He had not forgotten the attendant’s +condition when first examined, and he had even then been nearly +satisfied that the man had been hocussed, narcotized, drugged. + +Any doubts were entirely removed by his picking up near the porter’s +seat a small silver-topped bottle and a handkerchief, both marked with +coronet and monogram, the last of which, although the letters were much +interlaced and involved, were decipherable as S.L.L.C. + +It was that of the Countess, and corresponded with the marks on her +other belongings. He put it to his nostril, and recognized at once by +its smell that it had contained tincture of laudanum, or some +preparation of that drug. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +M. Floçon was an experienced detective, and he knew so well that he +ought to be on his guard against the most plausible suggestions, that +he did not like to make too much of these discoveries. Still, he was +distinctly satisfied, if not exactly exultant, and he went back towards +the station with a strong predisposition against the Contessa di +Castagneto. + +Just outside the waiting-room, however, his assistant, Galipaud, met +him with news which rather dashed his hopes, and gave a new direction +to his thoughts. + +The lady’s maid was not to be found. + +“Impossible!” cried the Chief, and then at once suspicion followed +surprise. + +“I have looked, monsieur, inquired everywhere; the maid has not been +seen. She certainly is not here.” + +“Did she go through the barrier with the other passengers?” + +“No one knows; no one remembers her; not even the conductor. But she +has gone. That is positive.” + +“Yet it was her duty to be here; to attend to her service. Her mistress +would certainly want her—has asked for her! Why should she run away?” + +This question presented itself as one of infinite importance, to be +pondered over seriously before he went further into the inquiry. + +Did the Countess know of this disappearance? + +She had asked imploringly for her maid. True, but might that not be a +blind? Women are born actresses, and at need can assume any part, +convey any impression. Might not the Countess have wished to be +dissociated from the maid, and therefore have affected complete +ignorance of her flight? + +“I will try her further,” said M. Floçon to himself. + +But then, supposing that the maid had taken herself off of her own +accord? Why was it? Why had she done so? Because—because she was afraid +of something. If so, of what? No direct accusation could be brought +against her on the face of it. She had not been in the sleeping-car at +the time of the murder, while the Countess as certainly was; and, +according to strong presumption, in the very compartment where the deed +was done. If the maid was afraid, why was she afraid? + +Only on one possible hypothesis. That she was either in collusion with +the Countess, or possessed of some guilty knowledge tending to +incriminate the Countess and probably herself. She had run away to +avoid any inconvenient questioning tending to get her mistress into +trouble, which would react probably on herself. + +“We must press the Countess on this point closely; I will put it +plainly to M. le Juge,” said the detective, as he entered the private +room set apart for the police authorities, where he found M. Beaumont +le Hardi, the instructing judge, and the Commissary of the Quartier +(arrondissement). + +A lengthy conference followed among the officials. M. Floçon told all +he knew, all he had discovered, gave his views with all the force and +fluency of a public prosecutor, and was congratulated warmly on the +progress he had made. + +“I agree with you, sir,” said the instructing judge: “we must have in +the Countess first, and pursue the line indicated as regards the +missing maid.” + +“I will fetch her, then. Stay, what can be going on in there?” cried M. +Floçon, rising from his seat and running into the outer waiting-room, +which, to his surprise and indignation, he found in great confusion. + +The guard who was on duty was struggling, in personal conflict almost, +with the English General. There was a great hubbub of voices, and the +Countess was lying back half-fainting in her chair. + +“What’s all this? How dare you, sir?” + +This to the General, who now had the man by the throat with one hand +and with the other was preventing him from drawing his sword. +“Desist—forbear! You are opposing legal authority; desist, or I will +call in assistance and will have you secured and removed.” + +The little Chief’s blood was up; he spoke warmly, with all the force +and dignity of an official who sees the law outraged. + +“It is entirely the fault of this ruffian of yours; he has behaved most +brutally,” replied Sir Charles, still holding him tight. + +“Let him go, monsieur; your behaviour is inexcusable. What! you, a +military officer of the highest rank, to assault a sentinel! For shame! +This is unworthy of you!” + +“He deserves to be scragged, the beast!” went on the General, as with +one sharp turn of the wrist he threw the guard off, and sent him flying +nearly across the room, where, being free at last, the Frenchman drew +his sword and brandished it threateningly—from a distance. + +But M. Floçon interposed with uplifted hand and insisted upon an +explanation. + +“It is just this,” replied Sir Charles, speaking fast and with much +fierceness: “that lady there—poor thing, she is ill, you can see that +for yourself, suffering, overwrought; she asked for a glass of water, +and this brute, triple brute, as you say in French, refused to bring +it.” + +“I could not leave the room,” protested the guard. “My orders were +precise.” + +“So I was going to fetch the water,” went on the General angrily, eying +the guard as though he would like to make another grab at him, “and +this fellow interfered.” + +“Very properly,” added M. Floçon. + +“Then why didn’t he go himself, or call some one? Upon my word, +monsieur, you are not to be complimented upon your people, nor your +methods. I used to think that a Frenchman was gallant, courteous, +especially to ladies.” + +The Chief looked a little disconcerted, but remembering what he knew +against this particular lady, he stiffened and said severely, “I am +responsible for my conduct to my superiors, and not to you. Besides, +you appear to forget your position. You are here, detained—all of +you”—he spoke to the whole room—“under suspicion. A ghastly crime has +been perpetrated—by some one among you—” + +“Do not be too sure of that,” interposed the irrepressible General. + +“Who else could be concerned? The train never stopped after leaving +Laroche,” said the detective, allowing himself to be betrayed into +argument. + +“Yes, it did,” corrected Sir Charles, with a contemptuous laugh; “shows +how much you know.” + +Again the Chief looked unhappy. He was on dangerous ground, face to +face with a new fact affecting all his theories,—if fact it was, not +mere assertion, and that he must speedily verify. But nothing was to be +gained—much, indeed, might be lost—by prolonging this discussion in the +presence of the whole party. It was entirely opposed to the French +practice of investigation, which works secretly, taking witnesses +separately, one by one, and strictly preventing all intercommunication +or collusion among them. + +“What I know or do not know is my affair,” he said, with an +indifference he did not feel. “I shall call upon you, M. le Général, +for your statement in due course, and that of the others.” He bowed +stiffly to the whole room. “Every one must be interrogated. M. le Juge +is now here, and he proposes to begin, madame, with you.” + +The Countess gave a little start, shivered, and turned very pale. + +“Can’t you see she is not equal to it?” cried the General, hotly. “She +has not yet recovered. In the name of—I do not say chivalry, for that +would be useless—but of common humanity, spare madame, at least for the +present.” + +“That is impossible, quite impossible. There are reasons why Madame la +Comtesse should be examined first. I trust, therefore, she will make an +effort.” + +“I will try, if you wish it.” She rose from her chair and walked a few +steps rather feebly, then stopped. + +“No, no, Countess, do not go,” said Sir Charles, hastily, in English, +as he moved across to where she stood and gave her his hand. “This is +sheer cruelty, sir, and cannot be permitted.” + +“Stand aside!” shouted M. Floçon; “I forbid you to approach that lady, +to address her, or communicate with her. Guard, advance, do your duty.” + +But the guard, although his sword was still out of its sheath, showed +great reluctance to move. He had no desire to try conclusions again +with this very masterful person, who was, moreover, a general; as he +had seen service, he had a deep respect for generals, even of foreign +growth. + +Meanwhile the General held his ground and continued his conversation +with the Countess, speaking still in English, thus exasperating M. +Floçon, who did not understand the language, almost to madness. + +“This is not to be borne!” he cried. “Here, Galipaud, Block;” and when +his two trusty assistants came rushing in, he pointed furiously to the +General. “Seize him, remove him by force if necessary. He shall go to +the _violon_—to the nearest lock-up.” + +The noise attracted also the Judge and the Commissary, and there were +now six officials in all, including the guard, all surrounding the +General, a sufficiently imposing force to overawe even the most +recalcitrant fire-eater. + +But now the General seemed to see only the comic side of the situation, +and he burst out laughing. + +“What, all of you? How many more? Why not bring up cavalry and +artillery, horse, foot, and guns?” he asked, derisively. “All to +prevent one old man from offering his services to one weak woman! +Gentlemen, my regards!” + +“Really, Charles, I fear you are going too far,” said his brother the +clergyman, who, however, had been manifestly enjoying the whole scene. + +“Indeed, yes. It is not necessary, I assure you,” added the Countess, +with tears of gratitude in her big brown eyes. “I am most touched, most +thankful. You are a true soldier, a true English gentleman, and I shall +never forget your kindness.” Then she put her hand in his with a +pretty, winning gesture that was reward enough for any man. + +Meanwhile, the Judge, the senior official present, had learned exactly +what had happened, and he now addressed the General with a calm but +stern rebuke. + +“Monsieur will not, I trust, oblige us to put in force the full power +of the law. I might, if I chose, and as I am fully entitled, commit you +at once to Mazas, to keep you in solitary confinement. Your conduct has +been deplorable, well calculated to traverse and impede justice. But I +am willing to believe that you were led away, not unnaturally, as a +gallant gentleman,—it is the characteristic of your nation, of your +cloth,—and that on more mature consideration you will acknowledge and +not repeat your error.” + +M. Beaumont le Hardi was a grave, florid, soft-voiced person, with a +bald head and a comfortably-lined white waistcoat; one who sought his +ends by persuasion, not force, but who had the instincts of a +gentleman, and little sympathy with the peremptory methods of his more +inflammable colleague. + +“Oh, with all my heart, monsieur,” said Sir Charles, cordially. “You +saw, or at least know, how this has occurred. I did not begin it, nor +was I the most to blame. But I was in the wrong, I admit. What do you +wish me to do now?” + +“Give me your promise to abide by our rules,—they may be irksome, but +we think them necessary,—and hold no further converse with your +companions.” + +“Certainly, certainly, monsieur,—at least after I have said one word +more to Madame la Comtesse.” + +“No, no, I cannot permit even that—” + +But Sir Charles, in spite of the warning finger held up by the Judge, +insisted upon crying out to her, as she was being led into the other +room: + +“Courage, dear lady, courage. Don’t let them bully you. You have +nothing to fear.” + +Any further defiance of authority was now prevented by her almost +forcible removal from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The stormy episode just ended had rather a disturbing effect on M. +Floçon, who could scarcely give his full attention to all the points, +old and new, that had now arisen in the investigation. But he would +have time to go over them at his leisure, while the work of +interrogation was undertaken by the Judge. + +The latter had taken his seat at a small table, and just opposite was +his _greffier_, or clerk, who was to write down question and answer, +_verbatim_. A little to one side, with the light full on the face, the +witness was seated, bearing the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes—the +Judge first, and behind him, those of the Chief Detective and the +Commissary of Police. + +“I trust, madame, that you are equal to answering a few questions?” +began M. le Hardi, blandly. + +“Oh, yes, I hope so. Indeed, I have no choice,” replied the Countess, +bravely resigned. + +“They will refer principally to your maid.” + +“Ah!” said the Countess, quickly and in a troubled voice, yet she bore +the gaze of the three officials without flinching. + +“I want to know a little more about her, if you please.” + +“Of course. Anything I know I will tell you.” She spoke now with +perfect self-possession. “But if I might ask—why this interest?” + +“I will tell you frankly. You asked for her, we sent for her, and—” + +“Yes?” + +“She cannot be found. She is not in the station.” + +The Countess all but jumped from her chair in her surprise—surprise +that seemed too spontaneous to be feigned. + +“Impossible! it cannot be. She would not dare to leave me here like +this, all alone.” + +“_Parbleu!_ she has dared. Most certainly she is not here.” + +“But what can have become of her?” + +“Ah, madame, what indeed? Can you form any idea? We hoped you might +have been able to enlighten us.” + +“I cannot, monsieur, not in the least.” + +“Perchance you sent her on to your hotel to warn your friends that you +were detained? To fetch them, perhaps, to you in your trouble?” + +The trap was neatly contrived, but she was not deceived. + +“How could I? I knew of no trouble when I saw her last.” + +“Oh, indeed? and when was that?” + +“Last night, at Amberieux, as I have already told that gentleman.” She +pointed to M. Floçon, who was obliged to nod his head. + +“Well, she has gone away somewhere. It does not much matter, still it +is odd, and for your sake we should like to help you to find her, if +you do wish to find her?” + +Another little trap which failed. + +“Indeed I hardly think she is worth keeping after this barefaced +desertion.” + +“No, indeed. And she must be held to strict account for it, must +justify it, give her reasons. So we must find her for you—” + +“I am not at all anxious, really,” the Countess said, quickly, and the +remark told against her. + +“Well, now, Madame la Comtesse, as to her description. Will you tell us +what was her height, figure, colour of eyes, hair, general appearance?” + +“She was tall, above the middle height, at least; slight, good figure, +black hair and eyes.” + +“Pretty?” + +“That depends upon what you mean by ‘pretty.’ Some people might think +so, in her own class.” + +“How was she dressed?” + +“In plain dark serge, bonnet of black straw and brown ribbons. I do not +allow my maid to wear colours.” + +“Exactly. And her name, age, place of birth?” + +“Hortense Petitpré, thirty-two, born, I believe, in Paris.” + +The Judge, when these particulars had been given, looked over his +shoulder towards the detective, but said nothing. It was quite +unnecessary, for M. Floçon, who had been writing in his note-book, now +rose and left the room. He called Galipaud to him, saying sharply: + +“Here is the more detailed description of the lady’s maid, and in +writing. Have it copied and circulate it at once. Give it to the +station-master, and to the agents of police round about here. I have an +idea—only an idea—that this woman has not gone far. It may be worth +nothing, still there is the chance. People who are wanted often hang +about the very place they would _not_ stay in if they were wise. +Anyhow, set a watch for her and come back here.” + +Meanwhile, the Judge had continued his questioning. + +“And where, madame, did you obtain your maid?” + +“In Rome. She was there, out of a place. I heard of her at an agency +and registry office, when I was looking for a maid a month or two ago.” + +“Then she has not been long in your service?” + +“No; as I tell you, she came to me in December last.” + +“Well recommended?” + +“Strongly. She had lived with good families, French and English.” + +“And with you, what was her character?” + +“Irreproachable.” + +“Well, so much for Hortense Petitpré. She is not far off, I dare say. +When we want her we shall be able to lay hands on her, I do not doubt, +madame may rest assured.” + +“Pray take no trouble in the matter. I certainly should not keep her.” + +“Very well, very well. And now, another small matter. I see,” he +referred to the rough plan of the sleeping-car prepared by M. +Floçon,—“I see that you occupied the compartment _d_, with berths Nos. +9 and 10?” + +“I think 9 was the number of my berth.” + +“It was. You may be certain of that. Now next door to your +compartment—do you know who was next door? I mean in 7 and 8?” + +The Countess’s lip quivered, and she was a prey to sudden emotion as +she answered in a low voice: + +“It was where—where—” + +“There, there, madame,” said the Judge, reassuring her as he would a +little child. “You need not say. It is no doubt very distressing to +you. Yet, you know?” + +She bent her head slowly, but uttered no word. + +“Now this man, this poor man, had you noticed him at all? No—no—not +afterwards, of course. It would not be likely. But during the journey. +Did you speak to him, or he to you?” + +“No, no—distinctly no.” + +“Nor see him?” + +“Yes, I saw him, I believe, at Modane with the rest when we dined.” + +“Ah! exactly so. He dined at Modane. Was that the only occasion on +which you saw him? You had never met him previously in Rome, where you +resided?” + +“Whom do you mean? The murdered man?” + +“Who else?” + +“No, not that I am aware of. At least I did not recognize him as a +friend.” + +“I presume, if he was among your friends—” + +“Pardon me, that he certainly was not,” interrupted the Countess. + +“Well, among your acquaintances—he would probably have made himself +known to you?” + +“I suppose so.” + +“And he did not do so? He never spoke to you, nor you to him?” + +“I never saw him, the occupant of that compartment, except on that one +occasion. I kept a good deal in my compartment during the journey.” + +“Alone? It must have been very dull for you,” said the Judge, +pleasantly. + +“I was not always alone,” said the Countess, hesitatingly, and with a +slight flush. “I had friends in the car.” + +“Oh—oh”—the exclamation was long-drawn and rather significant. + +“Who were they? You may as well tell us, madame, we should certainly +find out.” + +“I have no wish to withhold the information,” she replied, now turning +pale, possibly at the imputation conveyed. “Why should I?” + +“And these friends were—?” + +“Sir Charles Collingham and his brother. They came and sat with me +occasionally; sometimes one, sometimes the other.” + +“During the day?” + +“Of course, during the day.” Her eyes flashed, as though the question +was another offence. + +“Have you known them long?” + +“The General I met in Roman society last winter. It was he who +introduced his brother.” + +“Very good, so far. The General knew you, took an interest in you. That +explains his strange, unjustifiable conduct just now—” + +“I do not think it was either strange or unjustifiable,” interrupted +the Countess, hotly. “_He_ is a gentleman.” + +“Quite a _preux cavalier_, of course. But we will pass on. You are not +a good sleeper, I believe, madame?” + +“Indeed no, I sleep badly, as a rule.” + +“Then you would be easily disturbed. Now, last night, did you hear +anything strange in the car, more particularly in the adjoining +compartment?” + +“Nothing.” + +“No sound of voices raised high, no noise of a conflict, a struggle?” + +“No, monsieur.” + +“That is odd. I cannot understand it. We know, beyond all question, +from the appearance of the body,—the corpse,—that there was a fight, an +encounter. Yet you, a wretched sleeper, with only a thin plank of wood +between you and the affray, hear nothing, absolutely nothing. It is +_most_ extraordinary.” + +“I was asleep. I must have been asleep.” + +“A light sleeper would certainly be awakened. How can you explain—how +can you reconcile that?” The question was blandly put, but the Judge’s +incredulity verged upon actual insolence. + +“Easily: I had taken a soporific. I always do, on a journey. I am +obliged to keep something, sulphonal or chloral, by me, on purpose.” + +“Then this, madame, is yours?” And the Judge, with an air of +undisguised triumph, produced the small glass vial which M. Floçon had +picked up in the sleeping-car near the conductor’s seat. + +The Countess, with a quick gesture, put out her hand to take it. + +“No, I cannot give it up. Look as near as you like, and say is it +yours?” + +“Of course it is mine. Where did you get it? Not in my berth?” + +“No, madame, not in your berth.” + +“But where?” + +“Pardon me, we shall not tell you—not just now.” + +“I missed it last night,” went on the Countess, slightly confused. + +“After you had taken your dose of chloral?” + +“No, before.” + +“And why did you want this? It is laudanum.” + +“For my nerves. I have a toothache. I—I—really, sir, I need not tell +you all my ailments.” + +“And the maid had removed it?” + +“So I presume; she must have taken it out of the bag in the first +instance.” + +“And then kept it?” + +“That is what I can only suppose.” + +“Ah!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When the Judge had brought down the interrogation of the Countess to +the production of the small glass bottle, he paused, and with a +long-drawn “Ah!” of satisfaction, looked round at his colleagues. + +Both M. Floçon and the Commissary nodded their heads approvingly, +plainly sharing his triumph. + +Then they all put their heads together in close, whispered conference. + +“Admirable, M. le Juge!” said the detective. “You have been most +adroit. It is a clear case.” + +“No doubt,” said the Commissary, who was a blunt, rather coarse person, +believing that to take anybody and everybody into custody is always the +safest and simplest course. “It looks black against her. I think she +ought to be arrested at once.” + +“We might, indeed we ought to have more evidence, more definite +evidence, perhaps?” The Judge was musing over the facts as he knew +them. “I should like, before going further, to look at the car,” he +said, suddenly coming to a conclusion. + +M. Floçon readily agreed. “We will go together,” he said, adding, +“Madame will remain here, please, until we return. It may not be for +long.” + +“And afterwards?” asked the Countess, whose nervousness had if anything +increased during the whispered colloquy of the officials. + +“Ah, afterwards! Who knows?” was the reply, with a shrug of the +shoulders, all most enigmatic and unsatisfactory. + +“What have we against her?” said the Judge, as soon as they had gained +the absolute privacy of the sleeping-car. + +“The bottle of laudanum and the porter’s condition. He was undoubtedly +drugged,” answered the detective; and the discussion which followed +took the form of a dialogue between them, for the Commissary took no +part in it. + +“Yes; but why by the Countess? How do we know that positively?” + +“It is her bottle,” said M. Floçon. + +“Her story may be true—that she missed it, that the maid took it.” + +“We have nothing whatever against the maid. We know nothing about her.” + +“No. Except that she has disappeared. But that tells more against her +mistress. It is all very vague. I do not see my way quite, as yet.” + +“But the fragment of lace, the broken beading? Surely, M. le Juge, they +are a woman’s, and only one woman was in the car—” + +“So far as we know.” + +“But if these could be proved to be hers?” + +“Ah! if you could prove that!” + +“Easy enough. Have her searched, here at once, in the station. There is +a female searcher attached to the detention-room.” + +“It is a strong measure. She is a lady.” + +“Ladies who commit crimes must not expect to be handled with kid +gloves.” + +“She is an Englishwoman, or with English connections; titled, too. I +hesitate, upon my word. Suppose we are wrong? It may lead to +unpleasantness. M. le Prefet is anxious to avoid complications possibly +international.” + +As he spoke, he bent over, and, taking a magnifier from his pocket, +examined the lace, which still fluttered where it was caught. + +“It is fine lace, I think. What say you, M. Floçon? You may be more +experienced in such matters.” + +“The finest, or nearly so; I believe it is Valenciennes—the trimming of +some underclothing, I should think. That surely is sufficient, M. le +Juge?” + +M. Beaumont le Hardi gave a reluctant consent, and the Chief went back +himself to see that the searching was undertaken without loss of time. + +The Countess protested, but vainly, against this new indignity. What +could she do? A prisoner, practically friendless,—for the General was +not within reach,—to resist was out of the question. Indeed, she was +plainly told that force would be employed unless she submitted with a +good grace. There was nothing for it but to obey. + +Mother Tontaine, as the female searcher called herself, was an +evil-visaged, corpulent old creature, with a sickly, soft, insinuating +voice, and a greasy, familiar manner that was most offensive. They had +given her the scrap of torn lace and the débris of the jet as a guide, +with very particular directions to see if they corresponded with any +part of the lady’s apparel. + +She soon showed her quality. + +“Aha! oho! What is this, my pretty princess? How comes so great a lady +into the hands of Mother Tontaine? But I will not harm you, my beauty, +my pretty, my little one. Oh, no, no, I will not trouble you, dearie. +No, trust to me;” and she held out one skinny claw, and looked the +other way. The Countess did not or would not understand. + +“Madame has money?” went on the old hag in a half-threatening, +half-coaxing whisper, as she came up quite close, and fastened on her +victim like a bird of prey. + +“If you mean that I am to bribe you—” + +“Fie, the nasty word! But just a small present, a pretty gift, one or +two yellow bits, twenty, thirty, forty francs—you’d better.” She shook +the soft arm she held roughly, and anything seemed preferable than to +be touched by this horrible woman. + +“Wait, wait!” cried the Countess, shivering all over, and, feeling +hastily for her purse, she took out several napoleons. + +“Aha! oho! One, two, three,” said the searcher in a fat, wheedling +voice. “Four, yes, four, five;” and she clinked the coins together in +her palm, while a covetous light came into her faded eyes at the joyous +sound. “Five—make it five at once, d’ye hear me?—or I’ll call them in +and tell them. That will go against you, my princess. What, try to +bribe a poor old woman, Mother Tontaine, honest and incorruptible +Tontaine? Five, then, five!” + +With trembling haste the Countess emptied the whole contents of her +purse in the old hag’s hand. + +“_Bon aubaine_. Nice pickings. It is a misery what they pay me here. I +am, oh, so poor, and I have children, many babies. You will not tell +them—the police—you dare not. No, no, no.” + +Thus muttering to herself, she shambled across the room to a corner, +where she stowed the money safely away. Then she came back, showed the +bit of lace, and pressed it into the Countess’s hands. + +“Do you know this, little one? Where it comes from, where there is much +more? I was told to look for it, to search for it on you;” and with a +quick gesture she lifted the edge of the Countess’s skirt, dropping it +next moment with a low, chuckling laugh. + +“Oho! aha! You were right, my pretty, to pay me, my pretty—right. And +some day, to-day, to-morrow, whenever I ask you, you will remember +Mother Tontaine.” + +The Countess listened with dismay. What had she done? Put herself into +the power of this greedy and unscrupulous old beldame? + +“And this, my princess? What have we here, aha?” + +Mère Tontaine held up next the broken bit of jet ornament for +inspection, and as the Countess leaned forward to examine it more +closely, gave it into her hand. + +“You recognize it, of course. But be careful, my pretty! Beware! If any +one were looking, it would ruin you. I could not save you then. Sh! say +nothing, only look, and quick, give it me back. I must have it to +show.” + +All this time the Countess was turning the jet over and over in her +open palm, with a perplexed, disturbed, but hardly a terrified air. + +Yes, she knew it, or thought she knew it. It had been—But how had it +come here, into the possession of this base myrmidon of the French +police? + +“Give it me, quick!” There was a loud knock at the door. “They are +coming. Remember!” Mother Tontaine put her long finger to her lip. “Not +a word! I have found nothing, of course. Nothing, I can swear to that, +and you will not forget Mother Tontaine?” + +Now M. Floçon stood at the open door awaiting the searcher’s report. He +looked much disconcerted when the old woman took him on one side and +briefly explained that the search had been altogether fruitless. + +There was nothing to justify suspicion, nothing, so far as she could +find. + +The detective looked from one to the other—from the hag he had employed +in this unpleasant quest, to the lady on whom it had been tried. The +Countess, to his surprise, did not complain. He had expected further +and strong upbraidings. Strange to say, she took it very quietly. There +was no indignation in her face. She was still pale, and her hands +trembled, but she said nothing, made no reference, at least, to what +she had just gone through. + +Again he took counsel with his colleague, while the Countess was kept +apart. + +“What next, M. Floçon?” asked the Judge. “What shall we do with her?” + +“Let her go,” answered the detective, briefly. + +“What! do you suggest this, sir,” said the Judge, slyly. “After your +strong and well-grounded suspicions?” + +“They are as strong as ever, stronger: and I feel sure I shall yet +justify them. But what I wish now is to let her go at large, under +surveillance.” + +“Ah! you would shadow her?” + +“Precisely. By a good agent. Galipaud, for instance. He speaks English, +and he can, if necessary, follow her anywhere, even to England.” + +“She can be extradited,” said the Commissary, with his one prominent +idea of arrest. + +“Do you agree, M. le Juge? Then, if you will permit me, I will give the +necessary orders, and perhaps you will inform the lady that she is free +to leave the station?” + +The Countess now had reason to change her opinion of the French +officials. Great politeness now replaced the first severity that had +been so cruel. She was told, with many bows and apologies, that her +regretted but unavoidable detention was at an end. Not only was she +freely allowed to depart, but she was escorted by both M. Floçon and +the Commissary outside, to where an omnibus was in waiting, and all her +baggage piled on top, even to the dressing-bag, which had been neatly +repacked for her. + +But the little silver-topped vial had not been restored to her, nor the +handkerchief. + +In her joy at her deliverance, either she had not given these a second +thought, or she did not wish to appear anxious to recover them. + +Nor did she notice that, as the bus passed through the gates at the +bottom of the large slope that leads from the Lyons Station, it was +followed at a discreet distance by a modest fiacre, which pulled up, +eventually, outside the Hôtel Madagascar. Its occupant, M. Galipaud, +kept the Countess in sight, and, entering the hotel at her heels, +waited till she had left the office, when he held a long conference +with the proprietor. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +A first stage in the inquiry had now been reached, with results that +seemed promising, and were yet contradictory. + +No doubt the watch to be set on the Countess might lead to something +yet—something to bring first plausible suspicion to a triumphant issue; +but the examination of the other occupants of the car should not be +allowed to slacken on that account. The Countess might have some +confederate among them—this pestilent English General, perhaps, who had +made himself so conspicuous in her defence; or some one of them might +throw light upon her movements, upon her conduct during the journey. + +Then, with a spasm of self-reproach, M. Floçon remembered that two +distinct suggestions had been made to him by two of the travellers, and +that, so far, he had neglected them. One was the significant hint from +the Italian that he could materially help the inquiry. The other was +the General’s sneering assertion that the train had not continued its +journey uninterruptedly between Laroche and Paris. + +Consulting the Judge, and laying these facts before him, it was agreed +that the Italian’s offer seemed the most important, and he was +accordingly called in next. + +“Who and what are you?” asked the Judge, carelessly, but the answer +roused him at once to intense interest, and he could not quite resist a +glance of reproach at M. Floçon. + +“My name I have given you—Natale Ripaldi. I am a detective officer +belonging to the Roman police.” + +“What!” cried M. Floçon, colouring deeply. “This is unheard of. Why in +the name of all the devils have you withheld this most astonishing +statement until now?” + +“Monsieur surely remembers. I told him half an hour ago I had something +important to communicate—” + +“Yes, yes, of course. But why were you so reticent. Good Heavens!” + +“Monsieur was not so encouraging that I felt disposed to force on him +what I knew he would have to hear in due course.” + +“It is monstrous—quite abominable, and shall not end here. Your +superiors shall hear of your conduct,” went on the Chief, hotly. + +“They will also hear, and, I think, listen to my version of the +story,—that I offered you fairly, and at the first opportunity, all the +information I had, and that you refused to accept it.” + +“You should have persisted. It was your manifest duty. You are an +officer of the law, or you say you are.” + +“Pray telegraph at once, if you think fit, to Rome, to the police +authorities, and you will find that Natale Ripaldi—your humble +servant—travelled by the through express with their knowledge and +authority. And here are my credentials, my official card, some official +letters—” + +“And what, in a word, have you to tell us?” + +“I can tell you who the murdered man was.” + +“We know that already.” + +“Possibly; but only his name, I apprehend. I know his profession, his +business, his object in travelling, for I was appointed to watch and +follow him. That is why I am here.” + +“Was he a suspicious character, then? A criminal?” + +“At any rate he was absconding from Rome, with valuables.” + +“A thief, in fact?” + +The Italian put out the palms of his hands with a gesture of doubt and +deprecation. + +“Thief is a hard, ugly word. That which he was removing was, or had +been, his own property.” + +“Tut, tut! do be more explicit and get on,” interrupted the little +Chief, testily. + +“I ask nothing better; but if questions are put to me—” + +The Judge interposed. + +“Give us your story. We can interrogate you afterwards.” + +“The murdered man is Francis A. Quadling, of the firm of Correse & +Quadling, bankers, in the Via Condotti, Rome. It was an old house, once +of good, of the highest repute, but of late years it has fallen into +difficulties. Its financial soundness was doubted in certain circles, +and the Government was warned that a great scandal was imminent. So the +matter was handed over to the police, and I was directed to make +inquiries, and to keep my eye on this Quadling”—he jerked his thumb +towards the platform, where the body might be supposed to be. + +“This Quadling was the only surviving partner. He was well known and +liked in Rome, indeed, many who heard the adverse reports disbelieved +them, I myself among the number. But my duty was plain—” + +“Naturally,” echoed the fiery little detective. + +“I made it my business to place the banker under surveillance, to learn +his habits, his ways of life, see who were his friends, the houses he +visited. I soon knew much that I wanted to know, although not all. But +one fact I discovered, and think it right to inform you of it at once. +He was on intimate terms with La Castagneto—at least, he frequently +called upon her.” + +“La Castagneto! Do you mean the Countess of that name, who was a +passenger in the sleeper?” + +“Beyond doubt! it is she I mean.” The officials looked at each other +eagerly, and M. Beaumont le Hardi quickly turned over the sheets on +which the Countess’s evidence was recorded. + +She had denied acquaintance with this murdered man, Quadling, and here +was positive evidence that they were on intimate terms! + +“He was at her house on the very day we all left Rome—in the evening, +towards dusk. The Countess had an apartment in the Via Margutta, and +when he left her he returned to his own place in the Condotti, entered +the bank, stayed half an hour, then came out with one hand-bag and rug, +called a cab, and was driven straight to the railway station.” + +“And you followed?” + +“Of course. When I saw him walk straight to the sleeping-car, and ask +the conductor for 7 and 8, I knew that his plans had been laid, and +that he was on the point of leaving Rome secretly. When, presently, La +Castagneto also arrived, I concluded that she was in his confidence, +and that possibly they were eloping together.” + +“Why did you not arrest him?” + +“I had no authority, even if I had had the time. Although I was ordered +to watch the Signor Quadling, I had no warrant for his arrest. But I +decided on the spur of the moment what course I should take. It seemed +to be the only one, and that was to embark in the same train and stick +close to my man.” + +“You informed your superiors, I suppose?” + +“Pardon me, monsieur,” said the Italian blandly to the Chief, who asked +the question, “but have you any right to inquire into my conduct +towards my superiors? In all that affects the murder I am at your +orders, but in this other matter it is between me and them.” + +“Ta, ta, ta! They will tell us if you will not. And you had better be +careful, lest you obstruct justice. Speak out, sir, and beware. What +did you intend to do?” + +“To act according to circumstances. If my suspicions were confirmed—” + +“What suspicions?” + +“Why—that this banker was carrying off any large sum in cash, notes, +securities, as in effect he was.” + +“Ah! You know that? How?” + +“By my own eyes. I looked into his compartment once and saw him in the +act of counting them over, a great quantity, in fact—” + +Again the officials looked at each other significantly. They had got at +last to a motive for the crime. + +“And that, of course, would have justified his arrest?” + +“Exactly. I proposed, directly we arrived in Paris, to claim the +assistance of your police and take him into custody. But his fate +interposed.” + +There was a pause, a long pause, for another important point had been +reached in the inquiry: the motive for the murder had been made clear, +and with it the presumption against the Countess gained terrible +strength. + +But there was more, perhaps, to be got out of this dark-visaged Italian +detective, who had already proved so useful an ally. + +“One or two words more,” said the Judge to Ripaldi. “During the +journey, now, did you have any conversation with this Quadling?” + +“None. He kept very much to himself.” + +“You saw him, I suppose, at the restaurants?” + +“Yes, at Modane and Laroche.” + +“But did not speak to him?” + +“Not a word.” + +“Had he any suspicion, do you think, as to who you were?” + +“Why should he? He did not know me. I had taken pains he should never +see me.” + +“Did he speak to any other passenger?” + +“Very little. To the Countess. Yes, once or twice, I think, to her +maid.” + +“Ah! that maid. Did you notice her at all? She has not been seen. It is +strange. She seems to have disappeared.” + +“To have run away, in fact?” suggested Ripaldi, with a queer smile. + +“Well, at least she is not here with her mistress. Can you offer any +explanation of that?” + +“She was perhaps afraid. The Countess and she were very good friends, I +think. On better, more familiar terms, than is usual between mistress +and maid.” + +“The maid knew something?” + +“Ah, monsieur, it is only an idea. But I give it you for what it is +worth.” + +“Well, well, this maid—what was she like?” + +“Tall, dark, good-looking, not too reserved. She made other friends—the +porter and the English Colonel. I saw the last speaking to her. I spoke +to her myself.” + +“What can have become of her?” said the Judge. + +“Would M. le Juge like me to go in search of her? That is, if you have +no more questions to ask, no wish to detain me further?” + +“We will consider that, and let you know in a moment, if you will wait +outside.” + +And then, when alone, the officials deliberated. + +It was a good offer, the man knew her appearance, he was in possession +of all the facts, he could be trusted— + +“Ah, but can he, though?” queried the detective. “How do we know he has +told us truth? What guarantee have we of his loyalty, his good faith? +What if he is also concerned in the crime—has some guilty knowledge? +What if he killed Quadling himself, or was an accomplice before or +after the fact?” + +“All these are possibilities, of course, but—pardon me, dear +colleague—a little far-fetched, eh?” said the Judge. “Why not utilize +this man? If he betrays us—serves us ill—if we had reason to lay hands +on him again, he could hardly escape us.” + +“Let him go, and send some one with him,” said the Commissary, the +first practical suggestion he had yet made. + +“Excellent!” cried the Judge. “You have another man here, Chief; let +him go with this Italian.” + +They called in Ripaldi and told him, “We will accept your services, +monsieur, and you can begin your search at once. In what direction do +you propose to begin?” + +“Where has her mistress gone?” + +“How do you know she has gone?” + +“At least, she is no longer with us out there. Have you arrested her—or +what?” + +“No, she is still at large, but we have our eye upon her. She has gone +to her hotel—the Madagascar, off the Grands Boulevards.” + +“Then it is there that I shall look for the maid. No doubt she preceded +her mistress to the hotel, or she will join her there very shortly.” + +“You would not make yourself known, of course? They might give you the +slip. You have no authority to detain them, not in France.” + +“I should take my precautions, and I can always appeal to the police.” + +“Exactly. That would be your proper course. But you might lose valuable +time, a great opportunity, and we wish to guard against that, so we +shall associate one of our own people with you in your proceedings.” + +“Oh! very well, if you wish. It will, no doubt, be best.” The Italian +readily assented, but a shrewd listener might have guessed from the +tone of his voice that the proposal was not exactly pleasing to him. + +“I will call in Block,” said the Chief, and the second detective +inspector appeared to take his instructions. + +He was a stout, stumpy little man, with a barrel-like figure, greatly +emphasized by the short frock coat he wore; he had smallish pig’s eyes +buried deep in a fat face, and his round, chubby cheeks hung low over +his turned-down collar. + +“This gentleman,” went on the Chief, indicating Ripaldi, “is a member +of the Roman police, and has been so obliging as to offer us his +services. You will accompany him, in the first instance, to the Hôtel +Madagascar. Put yourself in communication with Galipaud, who is there +on duty.” + +“Would it not be sufficient if I made myself known to M. Galipaud?” +suggested the Italian. “I have seen him here, I should recognize him—” + +“That is not so certain; he may have changed his appearance. Besides, +he does not know the latest developments, and might not be very +cordial.” + +“You might write me a few lines to take to him.” + +“I think not. We prefer to send Block,” replied the Chief, briefly and +decidedly. He did not like this pertinacity, and looked at his +colleagues as though he sought their concurrence in altering the +arrangements for the Italian’s mission. It might be wiser to detain him +still. + +“It was only to save trouble that I made the suggestion,” hastily put +in Ripaldi. “Naturally I am in your hands. And if I do not meet with +the maid at the hotel, I may have to look further, in which case +Monsieur—Block? thank you—would no doubt render valuable assistance.” + +This speech restored confidence, and a few minutes later the two +detectives, already excellent friends from the freemasonry of a common +craft, left the station in a closed cab. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +“What next?” asked the Judge. + +“That pestilent English officer, if you please, M. le Juge,” said the +detective. “That fire-eating, swashbuckling soldier, with his +blustering barrack-room ways. I long to come to close quarters with +him. He ridiculed me, taunted me, said I knew nothing—we will see, we +will see.” + +“In fact, you wish to interrogate him yourself. Very well. Let us have +him in.” + +When Sir Charles Collingham entered, he included the three officials in +one cold, stiff bow, waited a moment, and then, finding he was not +offered a chair, said with studied politeness: + +“I presume I may sit down?” + +“Pardon. Of course; pray be seated,” said the Judge, hastily, and +evidently a little ashamed of himself. + +“Ah! thanks. Do you object?” went on the General, taking out a silver +cigarette-case. “May I offer one?” He handed round the box affably. + +“We do not smoke on duty,” answered the Chief, rudely. “Nor is smoking +permitted in a court of justice.” + +“Come, come, I wish to show no disrespect. But I cannot recognize this +as a court of justice, and I think, if you will forgive me, that I +shall take three whiffs. It may help me keep my temper.” + +He was evidently making game of them. There was no symptom remaining of +the recent effervescence when he was acting as the Countess’s champion, +and he was perfectly—nay, insolently calm and self-possessed. + +“You call yourself General Collingham?” went on the Chief. + +“I do not call myself. I am General Sir Charles Collingham, of the +British Army.” + +“Retired?” + +“No, I am still on the active list.” + +“These points will have to be verified.” + +“With all my heart. You have already sent to the British Embassy?” + +“Yes, but no one has come,” answered the detective, contemptuously. + +“If you disbelieve me, why do you question me?” + +“It is our duty to question you, and yours to answer. If not, we have +means to make you. You are suspected, inculpated in a terrible crime, +and your whole attitude is—is—objectionable—unworthy—disgr—” + +“Gently, gently, my dear colleague,” interposed the Judge. “If you will +permit me, I will take up this. And you, M. le Général, I am sure you +cannot wish to impede or obstruct us; we represent the law of this +country.” + +“Have I done so, M. le Juge?” answered the General, with the utmost +courtesy, as he threw away his half-burned cigarette. + +“No, no. I do not imply that in the least. I only entreat you, as a +good and gallant gentleman, to meet us in a proper spirit and give us +your best help.” + +“Indeed, I am quite ready. If there has been any unpleasantness, it has +surely not been of my making, but rather of that little man there.” The +General pointed to M. Floçon rather contemptuously, and nearly started +a fresh disturbance. + +“Well, well, let us say no more of that, and proceed to business. I +understand,” said the Judge, after fingering a few pages of the +dispositions in front of him, “that you are a friend of the Contessa di +Castagneto? Indeed, she has told us so herself.” + +“It was very good of her to call me her friend. I am proud to hear she +so considers me.” + +“How long have you known her?” + +“Four or five months. Since the beginning of the last winter season in +Rome.” + +“Did you frequent her house?” + +“If you mean, was I permitted to call on her on friendly terms, yes.” + +“Did you know all her friends?” + +“How can I answer that? I know whom I met there from time to time.” + +“Exactly. Did you often meet among them a Signor—Quadling?” + +“Quadling—Quadling? I cannot say that I have. The name is familiar +somehow, but I cannot recall the man.” + +“Have you never heard of the Roman bankers, Correse & Quadling?” + +“Ah, of course. Although I have had no dealing with them. Certainly I +have never met Mr. Quadling.” + +“Not at the Countess’s?” + +“Never—of that I am quite sure.” + +“And yet we have had positive evidence that he was a constant visitor +there.” + +“It is perfectly incomprehensible to me. Not only have I never met him, +but I have never heard the Countess mention his name.” + +“It will surprise you, then, to be told that he called at her apartment +in the Via Margutta on the very evening of her departure from Rome. +Called, was admitted, was closeted with her for more than an hour.” + +“I am surprised, astounded. I called there myself about four in the +afternoon to offer my services for the journey, and I too stayed till +after five. I can hardly believe it.” + +“I have more surprises for you, General. What will you think when I +tell you that this very Quadling—this friend, acquaintance, call him +what you please, but at least intimate enough to pay her a visit on the +eve of a long journey—was the man found murdered in the sleeping-car?” + +“Can it be possible? Are you sure?” cried Sir Charles, almost starting +from his chair. “And what do you deduce from all this? What do you +imply? An accusation against that lady? Absurd!” + +“I respect your chivalrous desire to stand up for a lady who calls you +her friend, but we are officials first, and sentiment cannot be +permitted to influence us. We have good reasons for suspecting that +lady. I tell you that frankly, and trust to you as a soldier and man of +honour not to abuse the confidence reposed in you.” + +“May I not know those reasons?” + +“Because she was in the car—the only woman, you understand—between +Laroche and Paris.” + +“Do you suspect a female hand, then?” asked the General, evidently much +interested and impressed. + +“That is so, although I am exceeding my duty in revealing this.” + +“And you are satisfied that this lady, a refined, delicate person in +the best society, of the highest character,—believe me, I know that to +be the case,—whom you yet suspect of an atrocious crime, was the only +female in the car?” + +“Obviously. Who else? What other woman could possibly have been in the +car? No one got in at Laroche; the train never stopped till it reached +Paris.” + +“On that last point at least you are quite mistaken, I assure you. Why +not upon the other also?” + +“The train stopped?” interjected the detective. “Why has no one told us +that?” + +“Possibly because you never asked. But it is nevertheless the fact. +Verify it. Every one will tell you the same.” + +The detective himself hurried to the door and called in the porter. He +was within his rights, of course, but the action showed distrust, at +which the General only smiled, but he laughed outright when the still +stupid and half-dazed porter, of course, corroborated the statement at +once. + +“At whose instance was the train pulled up?” asked the detective, and +the Judge nodded his head approvingly. + +To know that would fix fresh suspicion. + +But the porter could not answer the question. + +Some one had rung the alarm-bell—so at least the conductor had +declared; otherwise they should not have stopped. Yet he, the porter, +had not done so, nor did any passenger come forward to admit giving the +signal. But there had been a halt. Yes, assuredly. + +“This is a new light,” the Judge confessed. “Do you draw any conclusion +from it?” he went on to ask the General. + +“That is surely your business. I have only elicited the fact to +disprove your theory. But if you wish, I will tell you how it strikes +me.” + +The Judge bowed assent. + +“The bare fact that the train was halted would mean little. That would +be the natural act of a timid or excitable person involved indirectly +in such a catastrophe. But to disavow the act starts suspicion. The +fair inference is that there was some reason, an unavowable reason, for +halting the train.” + +“And that reason would be—” + +“You must see it without my assistance, surely! Why, what else but to +afford some one an opportunity to leave the car.” + +“But how could that be? You would have seen that person, some of you, +especially at such a critical time. The aisle would be full of people, +both exits were thus practically overlooked.” + +“My idea is—it is only an idea, understand—that the person had already +left the car—that is to say, the interior of the car.” + +“Escaped how? Where? What do you mean?” + +“Escaped through the open window of the compartment where you found the +murdered man.” + +“You noticed the open window, then?” quickly asked the detective. “When +was that?” + +“Directly I entered the compartment at the first alarm. It occurred to +me at once that some one might have gone through it.” + +“But no woman could have done it. To climb out of an express train +going at top speed would be an impossible feat for a woman,” said the +detective, doggedly. + +“Why, in God’s name, do you still harp upon the woman? Why should it be +a woman more than a man?” + +“Because”—it was the Judge who spoke, but he paused a moment in +deference to a gesture of protest from M. Floçon. The little detective +was much concerned at the utter want of reticence displayed by his +colleague. + +“Because,” went on the Judge with decision—“because this was found in +the compartment;” and he held out the piece of lace and the scrap of +beading for the General’s inspection, adding quickly, “You have seen +these, or one of them, or something like them before. I am sure of it; +I call upon you; I demand—no, I appeal to your sense of honour, Sir +Collingham. Tell me, please, exactly what you know.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The General sat for a time staring hard at the bit of torn lace and the +broken beads. Then he spoke out firmly: + +“It is my duty to withhold nothing. It is not the lace. That I could +not swear to; for me—and probably for most men—two pieces of lace are +very much the same. But I think I have seen these beads, or something +exactly like them, before.” + +“Where? When?” + +“They formed part of the trimming of a mantle worn by the Contessa di +Castagneto.” + +“Ah!” it was the same interjection uttered simultaneously by the three +Frenchmen, but each had a very different note; in the Judge it was deep +interest, in the detective triumph, in the Commissary indignation, as +when he caught a criminal red-handed. + +“Did she wear it on the journey?” continued the Judge. + +“As to that I cannot say.” + +“Come, come, General, you were with her constantly; you must be able to +tell us. We insist on being told.” This fiercely, from the now jubilant +M. Floçon. + +“I repeat that I cannot say. To the best of my recollection, the +Countess wore a long travelling cloak—an ulster, as we call them. The +jacket with those bead ornaments may have been underneath. But if I +have seen them,—as I believe I have,—it was not during this journey.” + +Here the Judge whispered to M. Floçon, “The searcher did not discover +any second mantle.” + +“How do we know the woman examined thoroughly?” he replied. “Here, at +least, is direct evidence as to the beads. At last the net is drawing +round this fine Countess.” + +“Well, at any rate,” said the detective aloud, returning to the +General, “these beads were found in the compartment of the murdered +man. I should like that explained, please.” + +“By me? How can I explain it? And the fact does not bear upon what we +were considering, as to whether any one had left the car.” + +“Why not?” + +“The Countess, as we know, never left the car. As to her entering this +particular compartment,—at any previous time,—it is highly improbable. +Indeed, it is rather insulting her to suggest it.” + +“She and this Quadling were close friends.” + +“So you say. On what evidence I do not know, but I dispute it.” + +“Then how could the beads get there? They were her property, worn by +her.” + +“Once, I admit, but not necessarily on this journey. Suppose she had +given the mantle away—to her maid, for instance; I believe ladies often +pass on their things to their maids.” + +“It is all pure presumption, a mere theory. This maid—she has not as +yet been imported into the discussion.” + +“Then I would suggest that you do so without delay. She is to my mind +a—well, rather a curious person.” + +“You know her—spoke to her?” + +“I know her, in a way. I had seen her in the Via Margutta, and I nodded +to her when she came first into the car.” + +“And on the journey—you spoke to her frequently?” + +“I? Oh, dear, no, not at all. I noticed her, certainly; I could not +help it, and perhaps I ought to tell her mistress. She seemed to make +friends a little too readily with people.” + +“As for instance—?” + +“With the porter to begin with. I saw them together at Laroche, in the +buffet at the bar; and that Italian, the man who was in here before me; +indeed, with the murdered man. She seemed to know them all.” + +“Do you imply that the maid might be of use in this inquiry?” + +“Most assuredly I do. As I tell you, she was constantly in and out of +the car, and more or less intimate with several of the passengers.” + +“Including her mistress, the Countess,” put in M. Floçon. + +The General laughed pleasantly. + +“Most ladies are, I presume, on intimate terms with their maids. They +say no man is a hero to his valet. It is the same, I suppose, with the +other sex.” + +“So intimate,” went on the little detective, with much malicious +emphasis, “that now the maid has disappeared lest she might be asked +inconvenient questions about her mistress.” + +“Disappeared? You are sure?” + +“She cannot be found, that is all we know.” + +“It is as I thought, then. She it was who left the car!” cried Sir +Charles, with so much vehemence that the officials were startled out of +their dignified reserve, and shouted back almost in a breath: “Explain +yourself. Quick, quick. What in God’s name do you mean?” + +“I had my suspicions from the first, and I will tell you why. At +Laroche the car emptied, as you may have heard; every one except the +Countess, at least, went over to the restaurant for early coffee; I +with the rest. I was one of the first to finish, and I strolled back to +the platform to get a few whiffs of a cigarette. At that moment I saw, +or thought I saw, the end of a skirt disappearing into the +sleeping-car. I concluded it was this maid, Hortense, who was taking +her mistress a cup of coffee. Then my brother came up, we exchanged a +few words, and entered the car together.” + +“By the same door as that through which you had seen the skirt pass?” + +“No, by the other. My brother went back to his berth, but I paused in +the corridor to finish my cigarette after the train had gone on. By +this time every one but myself had returned to his berth, and I was on +the point of lying down again for half an hour, when I distinctly heard +the handle turned of the compartment I knew to be vacant all through +the run.” + +“That was the one with berths 11 and 12?” + +“Probably. It was next to the Countess. Not only was the handle turned, +but the door partly opened—” + +“It was not the porter?” + +“Oh, no, he was in his seat,—you know it, at the end of the car,—sound +asleep, snoring; I could hear him.” + +“Did any one come out of the vacant compartment?” + +“No; but I was almost certain, I believe I could swear that I saw the +same skirt, just the hem of it, a black skirt, sway forward beyond the +door, just for a second. Then all at once the door was closed again +fast.” + +“What did you conclude from this? Or did you think nothing of it?” + +“I thought very little. I supposed it was that the maid wished to be +near her mistress as we were approaching Paris, and I had heard from +the Countess that the porter had made many difficulties. But you see, +after what has happened, that there was a reason for stopping the +train.” + +“Quite so,” M. Floçon readily admitted, with a scarcely concealed +sneer. + +He had quite made up his mind now that it was the Countess who had rung +the alarm-bell, in order to allow of the escape of the maid, her +confederate and accomplice. + +“And you still have an impression that some one—presumably this +woman—got off the car, somehow, during the stoppage?” he asked. + +“I suggest it, certainly. Whether it was or could be so, I must leave +to your superior judgment.” + +“What! A woman climb out like that? Bah! Tell that to some one else!” + +“You have, of course, examined the exterior of the car, dear +colleague?” now said the Judge. + +“Assuredly, once, but I will do it again. Still, the outside is quite +smooth, there is no foot-board. Only an acrobat could succeed in thus +escaping, and then only at the peril of his life. But a woman—oh, no! +it is too absurd.” + +“With help she might, I think, get up on to the roof,” quickly remarked +Sir Charles. “I have looked out of the window of my compartment. It +would be nothing for a man, nor much for a woman if assisted.” + +“That we will see for ourselves,” said the detective, ungraciously. + +“The sooner the better,” added the Judge, and the whole party rose from +their chairs, intending to go straight to the car, when the policeman +on guard appeared at the door, followed close by an English military +officer in uniform, whom he was trying to keep back, but with no great +success. It was Colonel Papillon of the Embassy. + +“Halloa, Jack! you _are_ a good chap,” cried the General, quickly going +forward to shake hands. “I was sure you would come.” + +“Come, sir! Of course I came. I was just going to an official function, +as you see, but his Excellency insisted, my horse was at the door, and +here I am.” + +All this was in English, but the attaché turned now to the officials, +and, with many apologies for his intrusion, suggested that they should +allow his friend, the General, to return with him to the Embassy when +they had done with him. + +“Of course we will answer for him. He shall remain at your disposal, +and will appear whenever called upon.” He returned to Sir Charles, +asking, “You will promise that, sir?” + +“Oh, willingly. I had always meant to stay on a bit in Paris. And +really I should like to see the end of this. But my brother? He must +get home for next Sunday’s duty. He has nothing to tell, but he would +come back to Paris at any time if his evidence was wanted.” + +The French Judge very obligingly agreed to all these proposals, and two +more of the detained passengers, making four in all, now left the +station. + +Then the officials proceeded to the car, which still remained as the +Chief Detective had left it. + +Here they soon found how just were the General’s previsions. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The three officials went straight to where the still open window showed +the particular spot to be examined. The exterior of the car was a +little smirched and stained with the dust of the journey, lying thick +in parts, and in others there were a few great splotches of mud +plastered on. + +The detective paused for a moment to get a general view, looking, in +the light of the General’s suggestion, for either hand or foot marks, +anything like a trace of the passage of a feminine skirt, across the +dusty surface. + +But nothing was to be seen, nothing definite or conclusive at least. +Only here and there a few lines and scratches that might be +encouraging, but proved little. + +Then the Commissary, drawing nearer, called attention to some +suspicious spots sprinkled about the window, but above it towards the +roof. + +“What is it?” asked the detective, as his colleague with the point of +his long fore-finger nail picked at the thin crust on the top of one of +these spots, disclosing a dark, viscous core. + +“I could not swear to it, but I believe it is blood.” + +“Blood! Good Heavens!” cried the detective, as he dragged his powerful +magnifying glass out of his pocket and applied it to the spot. “Look, +M. le Juge,” he added, after a long and minute examination. “What say +you?” + +“It has that appearance. Only medical evidence can positively decide, +but I believe it is blood.” + +“Now we are on the right track, I feel convinced. Some one fetch a +ladder.” + +One of these curious French ladders, narrow at the top, splayed out at +the base, was quickly leaned against the car, and the detective ran up, +using his magnifier as he climbed. + +“There is more here, much more, and something like—yes, beyond question +it is—the print of two hands upon the roof. It was here she climbed.” + +“No doubt. I can see it now exactly. She would sit on the window ledge, +the lower limbs inside the car here and held there. Then with her hands +she would draw herself up to the roof,” said the Judge. + +“But what nerve! what strength of arm!” + +“It was life and death. Within the car was more terrible danger. Fear +will do much in such a case. We all know that. Well! what more?” + +By this time the detective had stepped on to the roof of the car. + +“More, more, much more! Footprints, as plain as a picture. A woman’s +feet. Wait, let me follow them to the end,” said he, cautiously +creeping forward to the end of the car. + +A minute or two more, and he rejoined his colleagues on the ground +level, and, rubbing his hands, declared joyously that it was all +perfectly clear. + +“Dangerous or not, difficult or not, she did it. I have traced her; +have seen where she must have lain crouching ever so long, followed her +all along the top of the car, to the end where she got down above the +little platform exit. Beyond doubt she left the car when it stopped, +and by arrangement with her confederate.” + +“The Countess?” + +“Who else?” + +“And at a point near Paris. The English General said the halt was +within twenty minutes’ run of the station.” + +“Then it is from that point we must commence our search for her. The +Italian has gone on the wrong scent.” + +“Not necessarily. The maid, we may be sure, will try to communicate +with her mistress.” + +“Still, it would be well to secure her before she can do that,” said +the Judge. “With all we know now, a sharp interrogation might extract +some very damaging admissions from her,” went on the detective, +eagerly. “Who is to go? I have sent away both my assistants. Of course +I can telephone for another man, or I might go myself.” + +“No, no, dear colleague, we cannot spare you just yet. Telephone by all +means. I presume you would wish to be present at the rest of the +interrogatories?” + +“Certainly, you are right. We may elicit more about this maid. Let us +call in the porter now. He is said to have had relations with her. +Something more may be got out of him.” + +The more did not amount to much. Groote, the porter, came in, cringing +and wretched, in the abject state of a man who has lately been drugged +and is now slowly recovering. Although sharply questioned, he had +nothing to add to his first story. + +“Speak out,” said the Judge, harshly. “Tell us everything plainly and +promptly, or I shall send you straight to gaol. The order is already +made out;” and as he spoke, he waved a flimsy bit of paper before him. + +“I know nothing,” the porter protested, piteously. + +“That is false. We are fully informed and no fools. We are certain that +no such catastrophe could have occurred without your knowledge or +connivance.” + +“Indeed, gentlemen, indeed—” + +“You were drinking with this maid at the buffet at Laroche. You had +more drink with her, or from her hands, afterwards in the car.” + +“No, gentlemen, that is not so. I could not—she was not in the car.” + +“We know better. You cannot deceive us. You were her accomplice, and +the accomplice of her mistress, also, I have no doubt.” + +“I declare solemnly that I am quite innocent of all this. I hardly +remember what happened at Laroche or after. I do not deny the drink at +the buffet. It was very nasty, I thought, and could not tell why, nor +why I could not hold my head up when I got back to the car.” + +“You went off to sleep at once? Is that what you pretend?” + +“It must have been so. Yes. Then I know nothing more, not till I was +aroused.” + +And beyond this, a tale to which he stuck with undeviating persistence, +they could elicit nothing. + +“He is either too clever for us or an absolute idiot and fool,” said +the Judge, wearily, at last, when Groote had gone out. “We had better +commit him to Mazas and hold him there in solitary confinement under +our hands. After a day or two of that he may be less difficult.” + +“It is quite clear he was drugged, that the maid put opium or laudanum +into his drink at Laroche.” + +“And enough of it apparently, for he says he went off to sleep directly +he returned to the car,” the Judge remarked. + +“He says so. But he must have had a second dose, or why was the vial +found on the ground by his seat?” asked the Chief, thoughtfully, as +much of himself as of the others. + +“I cannot believe in a second dose. How was it administered—by whom? It +was laudanum, and could only be given in a drink. He says he had no +second drink. And by whom? The maid? He says he did not see the maid +again.” + +“Pardon me, M. le Juge, but do you not give too much credibility to the +porter? For me, his evidence is tainted, and I hardly believe a word of +it. Did he not tell me at first he had not seen this maid after +Amberieux at 8 P.M.? Now he admits that he was drinking with her at the +buffet at Laroche. It is all a tissue of lies, his losing the +pocket-book and his papers too. There is something to conceal. Even his +sleepiness, his stupidity, are likely to have been assumed.” + +“I do not think he is acting; he has not the ability to deceive us like +that.” + +“Well, then, what if the Countess took him the second drink?” + +“Oh! oh! That is the purest conjecture. There is nothing whatever to +suggest or support that.” + +“Then how explain the finding of the vial near the porter’s seat?” + +“May it not have been dropped there on purpose?” put in the Commissary, +with another flash of intelligence. + +“On purpose?” queried the detective, crossly, foreseeing an answer that +would not please him. + +“On purpose to bring suspicion on the lady?” + +“I don’t see it in that light. That would imply that she was not in the +plot, and plot there certainly was; everything points to it. The +drugging, the open window, the maid’s escape.” + +“A plot, no doubt, but organized by whom? These two women only? Could +either of them have struck the fatal blow? Hardly. Women have the wit +to conceive, but neither courage nor brute force to execute. There was +a man in this, rest assured.” + +“Granted. But who? That fire-eating Sir Collingham?” quickly asked the +detective, giving rein once more to his hatred. + +“That is not a solution that commends itself to me, I must confess,” +declared the Judge. “The General’s conduct has been blameworthy and +injudicious, but he is not of the stuff that makes criminals.” + +“Who, then? The porter? No? The clergyman? No? The French +gentlemen?—well, we have not examined them yet; but from what I saw at +the first cursory glance, I am not disposed to suspect them.” + +“What of that Italian?” asked the Commissary. + +“Are you sure of him? His looks did not please me greatly, and he was +very eager to get away from here. What if he takes to his heels?” + +“Block is with him,” the Chief put in hastily, with the evident desire +to stifle an unpleasant misgiving. “We have touch of him if we want +him, as we may.” + +How much they might want him they only realized when they got further +in their inquiry! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Only the two Frenchmen remained for examination. They had been left to +the last by pure accident. The exigencies of the inquiry had led to the +preference of others, but these two well-broken and submissive +gentlemen made no visible protest. However much they may have chafed +inwardly at the delay, they knew better than to object; any outburst of +discontent would, they knew, recoil on themselves. Not only were they +perfectly patient now when summoned before the officers of justice, +they were most eager to give every assistance to the law, to go beyond +the mere letter, and, if needs be, volunteer information. + +The first called in was the elder, M. Anatole Lafolay, a true Parisian +_bourgeois_, fat and comfortable, unctuous in speech, and exceedingly +deferential. + +The story he told was in its main outlines that which we already know, +but he was further questioned, by the light of the latest facts and +ideas as now elicited. + +The line adroitly taken by the Judge was to get some evidence of +collusion and combination among the passengers, especially with +reference to two of them, the two women of the party. On this important +point M. Lafolay had something to say. + +Asked if he had seen or noticed the lady’s maid on the journey, he +answered “yes” very decisively and with a smack of the lips, as though +the sight of this pretty and attractive person had given him +considerable satisfaction. + +“Did you speak to her?” + +“Oh, no. I had no opportunity. Besides, she had her own friends—great +friends, I fancy. I caught her more than once whispering in the corner +of the car with one of them.” + +“And that was—?” + +“I think the Italian gentleman; I am almost sure I recognized his +clothes. I did not see his face, it was turned from me—towards hers, +and very close, I may be permitted to say.” + +“And they were friendly?” + +“More than friendly, I should say. Very intimate indeed. I should not +have been surprised if—when I turned away as a matter of fact—if he did +not touch, just touch, her red lips. It would have been +excusable—forgive me, messieurs.” + +“Aha! They were so intimate as that? Indeed! And did she reserve her +favours exclusively for him? Did no one else address her, pay her court +on the quiet—you understand?” + +“I saw her with the porter, I believe, at Laroche, but only then. No, +the Italian was her chief companion.” + +“Did any one else notice the flirtation, do you think?” + +“Possibly. There was no secrecy. It was very marked. We could all see.” + +“And her mistress too?” + +“That I will not say. The lady I saw but little during the journey.” + +A few more questions, mainly personal, as to his address, business, +probable presence in Paris for the next few weeks, and M. Lafolay was +permitted to depart. + +The examination of the younger Frenchman, a smart, alert young man, of +pleasant, insinuating address, with a quick, inquisitive eye, followed +the same lines, and was distinctly corroborative on all the points to +which M. Lafolay spoke. But M. Jules Devaux had something startling to +impart concerning the Countess. + +When asked if he had seen her or spoken to her, he shook his head. + +“No; she kept very much to herself,” he said. “I saw her but little, +hardly at all, except at Modane. She kept her own berth.” + +“Where she received her own friends?” + +“Oh, beyond doubt. The Englishmen both visited her there, but not the +Italian.” + +“The Italian? Are we to infer that she knew the Italian?” + +“That is what I wish to convey. Not on the journey, though. Between +Rome and Paris she did not seem to know him. It was afterwards; this +morning, in fact, that I came to the conclusion that there was some +secret understanding between them.” + +“Why do you say that, M. Devaux?” cried the detective, excitedly. “Let +me urge you and implore you to speak out, and fully. This is of the +utmost, of the very first, importance.” + +“Well, gentlemen, I will tell you. As you are well aware, on arrival at +this station we were all ordered to leave the car, and marched to the +waiting-room, out there. As a matter of course, the lady entered first, +and she was seated when I went in. There was a strong light on her +face.” + +“Was her veil down?” + +“Not then. I saw her lower it later, and, as I think, for reasons I +will presently put before you. Madame has a beautiful face, and I gazed +at it with sympathy, grieving for her, in fact, in such a trying +situation; when suddenly I saw a great and remarkable change come over +it.” + +“Of what character?” + +“It was a look of horror, disgust, surprise,—a little perhaps of all +three; I could not quite say which, it faded so quickly and was +followed by a cold, deathlike pallor. Then almost immediately she +lowered her veil.” + +“Could you form any explanation for what you saw in her face? What +caused it?” + +“Something unexpected, I believe, some shock, or the sight of something +shocking. That was how it struck me, and so forcibly that I turned to +look over my shoulder, expecting to find the reason there. And it was.” + +“That reason—?” + +“Was the entrance of the Italian, who came just behind me. I am certain +of this; he almost told me so himself, not in words, but the mistakable +leer he gave her in reply. It was wicked, sardonic, devilish, and +proved beyond doubt that there was some secret, some guilty secret +perhaps, between them.” + +“And was that all?” cried both the Judge and M. Floçon in a breath, +leaning forward in their eagerness to hear more. + +“For the moment, yes. But I was made so interested, so suspicious by +this, that I watched the Italian closely, awaiting, expecting further +developments. They were long in coming; indeed, I am only at the end +now.” + +“Explain, pray, as quickly as possible, and in your own words.” + +“It was like this, monsieur. When we were all seated, I looked round, +and did not at first see our Italian. At last I discovered he had taken +a back seat, through modesty perhaps, or to be out of observation—how +was I to know? He sat in the shadow by a door, that, in fact, which +leads into this room. He was thus in the background, rather out of the +way, but I could see his eyes glittering in that far-off corner, and +they were turned in our direction, always fixed upon the lady, you +understand. She was next me, the whole time. + +“Then, as you will remember, monsieur, you called us in one by one, and +I, with M. Lafolay, was the first to appear before you. When I returned +to the outer room, the Italian was still staring, but not so fixedly or +continuously, at the lady. From time to time his eyes wandered towards +a table near which he sat, and which was just in the gangway or passage +by which people must pass into your presence. + +“There was some reason for this, I felt sure, although I did not +understand it immediately. +“Presently I got at the hidden meaning There was a small piece of +paper, rolled up or crumpled up into a ball, lying upon this table, and +the Italian wished, nay, was desperately anxious, to call the lady’s +attention to it. If I had had any doubt of this, it was quite removed +after the man had gone into the inner room. As he left us, he turned +his head over his shoulder significantly and nodded very slightly, but +still perceptibly, at the ball of paper. + +“Well, gentlemen, I was now satisfied in my own mind that this was some +artful attempt of his to communicate with the lady, and had she fallen +in with it, I should have immediately informed you, the proper +authorities. But whether from stupidity, dread, disinclination, a +direct, definite refusal to have any dealings with this man, the lady +would not—at any rate did not—pick up the ball, as she might have done +easily when she in her turn passed the table on her way to your +presence. + +“I have no doubt it was thrown there for her, and probably you will +agree with me. But it takes two to make a game of this sort, and the +lady would not join. Neither on leaving the room nor on returning would +she take up the missive.” + +“And what became of it, then?” asked the detective in breathless +excitement. “I have it here.” M. Devaux opened the palm of his hand and +displayed the scrap of paper in the hollow rolled up into a small tight +ball. + +“When and how did you become possessed of it?” + +“I got it only just now, when I was called in here. Before that I could +not move. I was tied to my chair, practically, and ordered strictly not +to move.” + +“Perfectly. Monsieur’s conduct has been admirable. And now tell us—what +does it contain? Have you looked at it?” + +“By no means. It is just as I picked it up. Will you gentlemen take it, +and if you think fit, tell me what is there? Some writing—a message of +some sort, or I am greatly mistaken.” + +“Yes, here are words written in pencil,” said the detective, unrolling +the paper, which he handed on to the Judge, who read the contents +aloud— + +“Be careful. Say nothing. If you betray me, you will be lost too.” + +A long silence followed, broken first by the Judge, who said at last +solemnly to Devaux: + +“Monsieur, in the name of justice I beg to thank you most warmly. You +have acted with admirable tact and judgment, and have rendered us +invaluable assistance. Have you anything further to tell us?” + +“No, gentlemen. That is all. And you—you have no more questions to ask? +Then I presume I may withdraw?” + +Beyond doubt it had been reserved for the last witness to produce facts +that constituted the very essence of the inquiry. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The examination was now over, and, the dispositions having been drawn +up and signed, the investigating officials remained for some time in +conference. + +“It lies with those three, of course—the two women and the Italian. +They are jointly, conjointly concerned, although the exact degrees of +guilt cannot quite be apportioned,” said the detective. + +“And all three are at large!” added the Judge. + +“If you will issue warrants for arrest, M. le Juge, we can take +them—two of them at any rate—when we choose.” + +“That should be at once,” remarked the Commissary, eager, as usual, for +decisive action. + +“Very well. Let us proceed in that way. Prepare the warrants,” said the +Judge, turning to his clerk. “And you,” he went on, addressing M. +Floçon, “dear colleague, will you see to their execution? Madame is at +the Hôtel Madagascar; that will be easy. The Italian Ripaldi we shall +hear of through your inspector Block. As for the maid, Hortense +Petitpré, we must search for her. That too, sir, you will of course +undertake?” + +“I will charge myself with it, certainly. My man should be here by now, +and I will instruct him at once. Ask for him,” said M. Floçon to the +guard whom he called in. + +“The inspector is there,” said the guard, pointing to the outer room. +“He has just returned.” + +“Returned? You mean arrived.” + +“No, monsieur, returned. It is Block, who left an hour or more ago.” + +“Block? Then something has happened—he has some special information, +some great news! Shall we see him, M. le Juge?” + +When Block appeared, it was evident that something had gone wrong with +him. His face wore a look of hot, flurried excitement, and his manner +was one of abject, cringing self-abasement. + +“What is it?” asked the little Chief, sharply. “You are alone. Where is +your man?” + +“Alas, monsieur! how shall I tell you? He has gone—disappeared! I have +lost him!” + +“Impossible! You cannot mean it! Gone, now, just when we most want him? +Never!” + +“It is so, unhappily.” + +“Idiot! _Triple_ idiot! You shall be dismissed, discharged from this +hour. You are a disgrace to the force.” M. Floçon raved furiously at +his abashed subordinate, blaming him a little too harshly and unfairly, +forgetting that until quite recently there had been no strong suspicion +against the Italian. We are apt at times to expect others to be +intuitively possessed of knowledge that has only come to us at a much +later date. + +“How was it? Explain. Of course you have been drinking. It is that, or +your great gluttony. You were beguiled into some eating-house.” + +“Monsieur, you shall hear the exact truth. When we started more than an +hour ago, our fiacre took the usual route, by the Quais and along the +riverside. My gentleman made himself most pleasant.” + +“No doubt,” growled the Chief. + +“Offered me an excellent cigar, and talked—not about the affair, you +understand—but of Paris, the theatres, the races, Longchamps, Auteuil, +the grand restaurants. He knew everything, all Paris, like his pocket. +I was much surprised, but he told me his business often brought him +here. He had been employed to follow up several great Italian +criminals, and had made a number of important arrests in Paris.” + +“Get on, get on! come to the essential.” + +“Well, in the middle of the journey, when we were about the Pont Henri +Quatre, he said, ‘Figure to yourself, my friend, that it is now near +noon, that nothing has passed my lips since before daylight at Laroche. +What say you? Could you eat a mouthful, just a scrap on the thumb-nail? +Could you?’” + +“And you—greedy, gormandizing beast!—you agreed?” + +“My faith, monsieur, I too was hungry. It was my regular hour. Well—at +any rate, for my sins I accepted. We entered the first restaurant, that +of the ‘Reunited Friends,’ you know it, perhaps, monsieur? A good +house, especially noted for tripe _à la mode de Caen_.” In spite of his +anguish, Block smacked his fat lips at the thought of this most +succulent but very greasy dish. + +“How often must I tell you to get on?” + +“Forgive me, monsieur, but it is all part of my story. We had oysters, +two dozen Marennes, and a glass or two of Chablis; then a good portion +of tripe, and with them a bottle, only one, monsieur, of Pontet Canet; +after that a beefsteak with potatoes and a little Burgundy, then a rum +omelet.” + +“Great Heavens! you should be the fat man in a fair, not an agent of +the Detective Bureau.” + +“It was all this that helped me to my destruction. He ate, this +devilish Italian, like three, and I too, I was so hungry,—forgive me, +sir,—I did my share. But by the time we reached the cheese, a fine, +ripe Camembert, had our coffee, and one thimbleful of green Chartreuse, +I was _plein jusqu’au bec_, gorged up to the beak.” + +“And what of your duty, your service, pray?” + +“I did think of it, monsieur, but then, he, the Italian, was just the +same as myself. He was a colleague. I had no fear of him, not till the +very last, when he played me this evil turn. I suspected nothing when +he brought out his pocketbook,—it was stuffed full, monsieur; I saw +that and my confidence increased,—called for the reckoning, and paid +with an Italian bank-note. The waiter looked doubtful at the foreign +money, and went out to consult the manager. A minute after, my man got +up, saying: + +“‘There may be some trouble about changing that bank-note. Excuse me +one moment, pray.’ He went out, monsieur, and piff-paff, he was no more +to be seen.” + +“Ah, _nigaud_ (ass), you are too foolish to live! Why did you not +follow him? Why let him out of your sight?” + +“But, monsieur, I was not to know, was I? I was to accompany him, not +to watch him. I have done wrong, I confess. But then, who was to tell +he meant to run away?” + +M. Floçon could not deny the justice of this defence. It was only now, +at the eleventh hour, that the Italian had become inculpated, and the +question of his possible anxiety to escape had never been considered. + +“He was so artful,” went on Block in further extenuation of his +offence. “He left everything behind. His overcoat, stick, this book—his +own private memorandum-book seemingly—” + +“Book? Hand it me,” said the Chief, and when it came into his hands he +began to turn over the leaves hurriedly. + +It was a small brass-bound note-book or diary, and was full of close +writing in pencil. + +“I do not understand, not more than a word here and there. It is no +doubt Italian. Do you know that language, M. le Juge?” + +“Not perfectly, but I can read it. Allow me.” + +He also turned over the pages, pausing to read a passage here and +there, and nodding his head from time to time, evidently struck with +the importance of the matter recorded. + +Meanwhile, M. Floçon continued an angry conversation with his offending +subordinate. + +“You will have to find him, Block, and that speedily, within +twenty-four hours,—to-day, indeed,—or I will break you like a stick, +and send you into the gutter. Of course, such a consummate ass as you +have proved yourself would not think of searching the restaurant or the +immediate neighbourhood, or of making inquiries as to whether he had +been seen, or as to which way he had gone?” + +“Pardon me, monsieur is too hard on me. I have been unfortunate, a +victim to circumstances, still I believe I know my duty. Yes, I made +inquiries, and, what is more, I heard of him.” + +“Where? how?” asked the Chief, gruffly, but obviously much interested. + +“He never spoke to the manager, but walked out and let the change go. +It was a note for a hundred _lire_, a hundred francs, and the +restaurant bill was no more than seventeen francs.” + +“Hah! that is greatly against him indeed.” + +“He was much pressed, in a great hurry. Directly he crossed the +threshold he called the first cab and was driving away, but he was +stopped—” + +“The devil! Why did they not keep him, then?” + +“Stopped, but only for a moment, and accosted by a woman.” + +“A woman?” + +“Yes, monsieur. They exchanged but three words. He wished to pass on, +to leave her, she would not consent, then they both got into the cab +and were driven away together.” + +The officials were now listening with all ears. + +“Tell me,” said the Chief, “quick, this woman—what was she like? Did +you get her description?” + +“Tall, slight, well formed, dressed all in black. Her face—it was a +policeman who saw her, and he said she was good-looking, dark, +brunette, black hair.” + +“It is the maid herself!” cried the little Chief, springing up and +slapping his thigh in exuberant glee. “The maid! the missing maid!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The joy of the Chief of Detectives at having thus come, as he supposed, +upon the track of the missing maid, Hortense Petitpré, was somewhat +dashed by the doubts freely expressed by the Judge as to the result of +any search. Since Block’s return, M. Beaumont le Hardi had developed +strong symptoms of discontent and disapproval at his colleague’s +proceedings. + +“But if it was this Hortense Petitpré how did she get there, by the +bridge Henri Quatre, when we thought to find her somewhere down the +line? It cannot be the same woman.” + +“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” interposed Block. “May I say one word? +I believe I can supply some interesting information about Hortense +Petitpré. I understand that some one like her was seen here in the +station not more than an hour ago.” + +“_Peste!_ Why were we not told this sooner?” cried the Chief, +impetuously. + +“Who saw her? Did he speak to her? Call him in; let us see how much he +knows.” + +The man was summoned, one of the subordinate railway officials, who +made a specific report. + +Yes, he had seen a tall, slight, neat-looking woman, dressed entirely +in black, who, according to her account, had arrived at 10.30 by the +slow local train from Dijon. + +“_Fichtre!_” said the Chief, angrily; “and this is the first we have +heard of it.” + +“Monsieur was much occupied at the time, and, indeed, then we had not +heard of your inquiry.” + +“I notified the station-master quite early, two or three hours since, +about 9 A.M. This is most exasperating!” + +“Instructions to look out for this woman have only just reached us, +monsieur. There were certain formalities, I suppose.” + +For once the detective cursed in his heart the red-tape, roundabout +ways of French officialism. + +“Well, well! Tell me about her,” he said, with a resignation he did not +feel. “Who saw her?” + +“I, monsieur. I spoke to her myself. She was on the outside of the +station, alone, unprotected, in a state of agitation and alarm. I went +up and offered my services. Then she told me she had come from Dijon, +that friends who were to have met her had not appeared. I suggested +that I should put her into a cab and send her to her destination. But +she was afraid of losing her friends, and preferred to wait.” + +“A fine story! Did she appear to know what had happened? Had she heard +of the murder?” + +“Something, monsieur.” + +“Who could have told her? Did you?” + +“No, not I. But she knew.” + +“Was not that in itself suspicious? The fact has not yet been made +public.” + +“It was in the air, monsieur. There was a general impression that +something had happened. That was to be seen on every face, in the +whispered talk, the movement to and fro of the police and the guards.” + +“Did she speak of it, or refer to it?” + +“Only to ask if the murderer was known; whether the passengers had been +detained; whether there was any inquiry in progress; and then—” + +“What then?” + +“This gentleman,” pointing to Block, “came out, accompanied by another. +They passed pretty close to us, and I noticed that the lady slipped +quickly on one side.” + +“She recognized her confederate, of course, but did not wish to be seen +just then. Did he, the person with Block here, see her?” + +“Hardly, I think; it was all so quick, and they were gone, in a minute, +to the cab-stand.” + +“What did your woman do?” + +“She seemed to have changed her mind all at once, and declared she +would not wait for her friends. Now she was in quite a hurry to go.” + +“Of course! and left you like a fool planted there. I suppose she took +a cab and followed the others, Block here and his companion.” + +“I believe she did. I saw her cab close behind theirs.” + +“It is too late to lament this now,” said the Chief, after a short +pause, looking at his colleagues. “At least it confirms our ideas, and +brings us to certain definite conclusions. We must lay hands on these +two. Their guilt is all but established. Their own acts condemn them. +They must be arrested without a moment’s delay.” + +“If you can find them!” suggested the Judge, with a very perceptible +sneer. + +“That we shall certainly do. Trust to Block, who is very nearly +concerned. His future depends on his success. You quite understand +that, my man?” + +Block made a gesture half-deprecating, half-confident. + +“I do not despair, gentlemen; and if I might make so bold, sir, I will +ask you to assist? If you would give orders direct from the Prefecture +to make the round of the cab-stands, to ask of all the agents in charge +the information we need? Before night we shall have heard from the +cabman who drove them what became of this couple, and so get our birds +themselves, or a point of fresh departure.” + +“And you, Block, where shall you go?” + +“Where I left him, or rather where he left me,” replied the inspector, +with an attempt at wit, which fell quite flat, being extinguished by a +frigid look from the Judge. + +“Go,” said M. Floçon, briefly and severely, to his subordinate; “and +remember that you have now to justify your retention on the force.” + +Then, turning to M. Beaumont le Hardi, the Chief went on pleasantly: + +“Well, M. le Juge, it promises, I think; it is all fairly satisfactory, +eh?” + +“I am sorry I cannot agree with you,” replied the Judge, harshly. “On +the contrary, I consider that we—or more exactly you, for neither I nor +M. Garraud accept any share in it—you have so far failed, and +miserably.” + +“Your pardon, M. le Juge, you are too severe,” protested M. Floçon, +quite humbly. + +“Well! Look at it from all points of view. What have we got? What have +we gained? Nothing, or, if anything, it is of the smallest, and it is +already jeopardized, if not absolutely lost.” + +“We have at least gained the positive assurance of the guilt of certain +individuals.” + +“Whom you have allowed to slip through your fingers.” + +“Ah, not so, M. le Juge! We have one under surveillance. My man +Galipaud is there at the hotel watching the Countess.” + +“Do not talk to me of your men, M. Floçon,” angrily interposed the +Judge. “One of them has given us a touch of his quality. Why should not +the other be equally foolish? I quite expect to hear that the Countess +also has gone, that would be the climax!” + +“It shall not happen. I will take the warrant and arrest her now, at +once, myself,” cried M. Floçon. + +“Well, that will be something, yet not much. Yes, she is only one, and +not to my mind the most criminal. We do not know as yet the exact +responsibility of each, the exact measure of their guilt; but I do not +myself believe that the Countess was a prime mover, or, indeed, more +than an accessory. She was drawn into it, perhaps involved, how or why +we cannot know, but possibly by fortuitous circumstances that put an +unavoidable pressure upon her; a consenting party, but under protest. +That is my view of the lady.” + +M. Floçon shook his head. Prepossessions with him were tenacious, and +he had made up his mind about the Countess’s guilt. + +“When you again interrogate her, M. le Juge, by the light of your +present knowledge, I believe you will think otherwise. She will +confess,—you will make her, your skill is unrivalled,—and you will then +admit, M. le Juge, that I was right in my suspicions.” + +“Ah, well, produce her! We shall see,” said the Judge, somewhat +mollified by M. Floçon’s fulsome flattery. + +“I will bring her to your chamber of instruction within an hour, M. le +Juge,” said the detective, very confidently. + +But he was doomed to disappointment in this as he was in other +respects. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Let us go back a little in point of time, and follow the movements of +Sir Charles Collingham. + +It was barely 11 A.M. when he left the Lyons Station with his brother, +the Reverend Silas, and the military attaché, Colonel Papillon. They +paused for a moment outside the station while the baggage was being got +together. + +“See, Silas,” said the General, pointing to the clock, “you will have +plenty of time for the 11.50 train to Calais for London, but you must +hurry up and drive straight across Paris to the Nord. I suppose he can +go, Jack?” + +“Certainly, as he has promised to return if called upon.” + +And Mr. Collingham promptly took advantage of the permission. + +“But you, General, what are your plans?” went on the attaché. + +“I shall go to the club first, get a room, dress, and all that. Then +call at the Hôtel Madagascar. There is a lady there,—one of our party, +in fact,—and I should like to ask after her. She may be glad of my +services.” + +“English? Is there anything we can do for her?” + +“Yes, she is an Englishwoman, but the widow of an Italian—the Contessa +di Castagneto.” + +“Oh, but I know her!” said Papillon. “I remember her in Rome two or +three years ago. A deuced pretty woman, very much admired, but she was +in deep mourning then, and went out very little. I wished she had gone +out more. There were lots of men ready to fall at her feet.” + +“You were in Rome, then, some time back? Did you ever come across a man +there, Quadling, the banker?” + +“Of course I did. Constantly. He was a good deal about—a rather +free-living, self-indulgent sort of chap. And now you mention his name, +I recollect they said he was much smitten by this particular lady, the +Contessa di Castagneto.” + +“And did she encourage him?” “Lord! how can I tell? Who shall say how a +woman’s fancy falls? It might have suited her too. They said she was +not in very good circumstances, and he was thought to be a rich man. Of +course we know better than that now.” + +“Why _now?_” + +“Haven’t you heard? It was in the _Figaro_ yesterday, and in all the +Paris papers. Quadling’s bank has gone to smash; he has bolted with all +the ‘ready’ he could lay hands upon.” + +“He didn’t get far, then!” cried Sir Charles. “You look surprised, +Jack. Didn’t they tell you? This Quadling was the man murdered in the +sleeping-car. It was no doubt for the money he carried with him.” + +“Was it Quadling? My word! what a terrible Nemesis. Well, _nil nisi +bonum_, but I never thought much of the chap, and your friend the +Countess has had an escape. But now, sir, I must be moving. My +engagement is for twelve noon. If you want me, mind you send—207 Rue +Miromesnil, or to the Embassy; but let us arrange to meet this evening, +eh? Dinner and a theatre—what do you say?” + +Then Colonel Papillon rode off, and the General was driven to the +Boulevard des Capucines, having much to occupy his thoughts by the way. + +It did not greatly please him to have this story of the Countess’s +relations with Quadling, as first hinted at by the police, endorsed now +by his friend Papillon. Clearly she had kept up her acquaintance, her +intimacy to the very last: why otherwise should she have received him, +alone, been closeted with him for an hour or more on the very eve of +his flight? It was a clandestine acquaintance too, or seemed so, for +Sir Charles, although a frequent visitor at her house, had never met +Quadling there. + +What did it all mean? And yet, what, after all, did it matter to him? + +A good deal really more than he chose to admit to himself, even now, +when closely questioning his secret heart. The fact was, the Countess +had made a very strong impression on him from the first. He had admired +her greatly during the past winter at Rome, but then it was only a +passing fancy, as he thought,—the pleasant platonic flirtation of a +middle-aged man, who never expected to inspire or feel a great love. +Only now, when he had shared a serious trouble with her, had passed +through common difficulties and dangers, he was finding what accident +may do—how it may fan a first liking into a stronger flame. It was +absurd, of course. He was fifty-one, he had weathered many trifling +affairs of the heart, and here he was, bowled over at last, and by a +woman he was not certain was entitled to his respect. + +What was he to do? + +The answer came at once and unhesitatingly, as it would to any other +honest, chivalrous gentleman. + +“By George, I’ll stick to her through thick and thin! I’ll trust her +whatever happens or has happened, come what may. Such a woman as that +is above suspicion. She _must_ be straight. I should be a beast and a +blackguard double distilled to think anything else. I am sure she can +put all right with a word, can explain everything when she chooses. I +will wait till she does.” + +Thus fortified and decided, Sir Charles took his way to the Hôtel +Madagascar about noon. At the desk he inquired for the Countess, and +begged that his card might be sent up to her. The man looked at it, +then at the visitor, as he stood there waiting rather impatiently, then +again at the card. At last he walked out and across the inner courtyard +of the hotel to the office. Presently the manager came back, bowing +low, and, holding the card in his hand, began a desultory conversation. + +“Yes, yes,” cried the General, angrily cutting short all references to +the weather and the number of English visitors in Paris. “But be so +good as to let Madame la Comtesse know that I have called.” + +“Ah, to be sure! I came to tell Monsieur le Général that madame will +hardly be able to see him. She is indisposed, I believe. At any rate, +she does not receive to-day.” + +“As to that, we shall see. I will take no answer except direct from +her. Take or send up my card without further delay. I insist! Do you +hear?” said the General, so fiercely that the manager turned tail and +fled up-stairs. + +Perhaps he yielded his ground the more readily that he saw over the +General’s shoulder the figure of Galipaud the detective looming in the +archway. It had been arranged that, as it was not advisable to have the +inspector hanging about the courtyard of the hotel, the clerk or the +manager should keep watch over the Countess and detain any visitors who +might call upon her. Galipaud had taken post at a wine-shop over the +way, and was to be summoned whenever his presence was thought +necessary. + +There he was now, standing just behind the General, and for the present +unseen by him. + +But then a telegraph messenger came in and up to the desk. He held the +usual blue envelope in his hand, and called out the name on the +address: + +“Castagneto. Contessa Castagneto.” + +At sound of which the General turned sharply, to find Galipaud +advancing and stretching out his hand to take the message. + +“Pardon me,” cried Sir Charles, promptly interposing and understanding +the situation at a glance. “I am just going up to see that lady. Give +me the telegram.” + +Galipaud would have disputed the point, when the General, who had +already recognized him, said quietly: + +“No, no, Inspector, you have no earthly right to it. I guess why you +are here, but you are not entitled to interfere with private +correspondence. Stand back;” and seeing the detective hesitate, he +added peremptorily: + +“Enough of this. I order you to get out of the way. And be quick about +it!” + +The manager now returned, and admitted that Madame la Comtesse would +receive her visitor. A few seconds more, and the General was admitted +into her presence. + +“How truly kind of you to call!” she said at once, coming up to him +with both hands outstretched and frank gladness in her eyes. + +Yes, she was very attractive in her plain, dark travelling dress +draping her tall, graceful figure; her beautiful, pale face was +enhanced by the rich tones of her dark brown, wavy hair, while just a +narrow band of white muslin at her wrists and neck set off the dazzling +clearness of her skin. + +“Of course I came. I thought you might want me, or might like to know +the latest news,” he answered, as he held her hands in his for a few +seconds longer than was perhaps absolutely necessary. + +“Oh, do tell me! Is there anything fresh?” There was a flash of crimson +colour in her cheek, which faded almost instantly. + +“This much. They have found out who the man was.” + +“Really? Positively? Whom do they say now?” + +“Perhaps I had better not tell you. It may surprise you, shock you to +hear. I think you knew him—” + +“Nothing can well shock me now. I have had too many shocks already. Who +do they think it is?” + +“A Mr. Quadling, a banker, who is supposed to have absconded from +Rome.” + +She received the news so impassively, with such strange +self-possession, that for a moment he was disappointed in her. But +then, quick to excuse, he suggested: + +“You may have already heard?” + +“Yes; the police people at the railway station told me they thought it +was Mr. Quadling.” + +“But you knew him?” + +“Certainly. They were my bankers, much to my sorrow. I shall lose +heavily by their failure.” + +“That also has reached you, then?” interrupted the General, hastily and +somewhat uneasily. + +“To be sure. The man told me of it himself. Indeed, he came to me the +very day I was leaving Rome, and made me an offer—a most obliging +offer.” + +“To share his fallen fortunes?” + +“Sir Charles Collingham! How can you? That creature!” The contempt in +her tone was immeasurable. + +“I had heard—well, some one said that—” + +“Speak out, General; I shall not be offended. I know what you mean. It +is perfectly true that the man once presumed to pester me with his +attentions. But I would as soon have looked at a courier or a cook. And +now—” + +There was a pause. The General felt on delicate ground. He could ask no +questions—anything more must come from the Countess herself. + +“But let me tell you what his offer was. I don’t know why I listened to +it. I ought to have at once informed the police. I wish I had.” + +“It might have saved him from his fate.” + +“Every villain gets his deserts in the long run,” she said, with bitter +sententiousness. “And this Mr. Quadling is—But wait, you shall know him +better. He came to me to propose—what do you think?—that he—his bank, I +mean—should secretly repay me the amount of my deposit, all the money I +had in it. To join me in his fraud, in fact—” + +“The scoundrel! Upon my word, he has been well served. And that was the +last you saw of him?” + +“I saw him on the journey, at Turin, at Modane, at—Oh, Sir Charles, do +not ask me any more about him!” she cried, with a sudden outburst, +half-grief, half-dread. “I cannot tell you—I am obliged to—I—I—” + +“Then do not say another word,” he said, promptly. + +“There are other things. But my lips are sealed—at least for the +present. You do not—will not think any worse of me?” + +She laid her hand gently on his arm, and his closed over it with such +evident good-will that a blush crimsoned her cheek. It still hung +there, and deepened when he said, warmly: + +“As if anything could make me do that! Don’t you know—you may not, but +let me assure you, Countess—that nothing could happen to shake me in +the high opinion I have of you. Come what may, I shall trust you, +believe in you, think well of you—always.” + +“How sweet of you to say that! and now, of all times,” she murmured +quite softly, and looking up for the first time, shyly, to meet his +eyes. + +Her hand was still on his arm, covered by his, and she nestled so close +to him that it was easy, natural, indeed, for him to slip his other arm +around her waist and draw her to him. + +“And now—of all times—may I say one word more?” he whispered in her +ear. “Will you give me the right to shelter and protect you, to stand +by you, share your troubles, or keep them from you—?” + +“No, no, no, indeed, not now!” She looked up appealingly, the tears +brimming up in her bright eyes. “I cannot, will not accept this +sacrifice. You are only speaking out of your true-hearted chivalry. You +must not join yourself to me, you must not involve yourself—” + +He stopped her protests by the oldest and most effectual method known +in such cases. That first sweet kiss sealed the compact so quickly +entered into between them. + +And after that she surrendered at discretion. There was no more +hesitation or reluctance; she accepted his love as he had offered it, +freely, with whole heart and soul, crept up under his sheltering wing +like a storm-beaten dove reëntering the nest, and there, cooing softly, +“My knight—my own true knight and lord,” yielded herself willingly and +unquestioningly to his tender caresses. + +Such moments snatched from the heart of pressing anxieties are made +doubly sweet by their sharp contrast with a background of trouble. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +They sat there, these two, hand locked in hand, saying little, +satisfied now to be with each other and their new-found love. The time +flew by far too fast, till at last Sir Charles, with a half-laugh, +suggested: + +“Do you know, dearest Countess—” + +She corrected him in a soft, low voice. + +“My name is Sabine—Charles.” + +“Sabine, darling. It is very prosaic of me, perhaps, but do you know +that I am nearly starved? I came on here at once. I have had no +breakfast.” + +“Nor have I,” she answered, smiling. “I was thinking of it when—when +you appeared like a whirlwind, and since then, events have moved so +fast.” + +“Are you sorry, Sabine? Would you rather go back to—to—before?” She +made a pretty gesture of closing his traitor lips with her small hand. + +“Not for worlds. But you soldiers—you are terrible men! Who can resist +you?” + +“Bah! It is you who are irresistible. But there, why not put on your +jacket and let us go out to lunch somewhere—Durand’s, Voisin’s, the +Café de le Paix? Which do you prefer?” + +“I suppose they will not try to stop us?” + +“Who should try?” he asked. + +“The people of the hotel—the police—I cannot exactly say whom; but I +dread something of the sort. I don’t quite understand that manager. He +has been up to see me several times, and he spoke rather oddly, rather +rudely.” + +“Then he shall answer for it,” snorted Sir Charles, hotly. “It is the +fault of that brute of a detective, I suppose. Still they would hardly +dare—” + +“A detective? What? Here? Are you sure?” + +“Perfectly sure. It is one of those from the Lyons Station. I knew him +again directly, and he was inclined to be interfering. Why, I caught +him trying—but that reminds me—I rescued this telegram from his +clutches.” + +He took the little blue envelope from his breast pocket and handed it +to her, kissing the tips of her fingers as she took it from him. + +“Ah!” + +A sudden ejaculation of dismay escaped her, when, after rather +carelessly tearing the message open, she had glanced at it. + +“What is the matter?” he asked in eager solicitude. “May I not know?” + +She made no offer to give him the telegram, and said in a faltering +voice, and with much hesitation of manner, “I do not know. I hardly +think—of course I do not like to withhold anything, not now. And yet, +this is a business which concerns me only, I am afraid. I ought not to +drag you into it.” + +“What concerns you is very much my business, too. I do not wish to +force your confidence, still—” + +She gave him the telegram quite obediently, with a little sigh of +relief, glad to realize now, for the first time after many years, that +there was some one to give her orders and take the burden of trouble +off her shoulders. + +He read it, but did not understand it in the least. It ran: “I must see +you immediately, and beg you will come. You will find Hortense here. +She is giving trouble. You only can deal with her. Do not delay. Come +at once, or we must go to you.—Ripaldi, Hôtel Ivoire, Rue Bellechasse.” + +“What does this mean? Who sends it? Who is Ripaldi?” asked Sir Charles, +rather brusquely. + +“He—he—oh, Charles, I shall have to go. Anything would be better than +his coming here.” + +“Ripaldi? Haven’t I heard the name? He was one of those in the +sleeping-car, I think? The Chief of the Detective Police called it out +once or twice. Am I not right? Please tell me—am I not right?” + +“Yes, yes; this man was there with the rest of us. A dark man, who sat +near the door—” + +“Ah, to be sure. But what—what in Heaven’s name has he to do with you? +How does he dare to send you such an impudent message as this? Surely, +Sabine, you will tell me? You will admit that I have a right to ask?” + +“Yes, of course. I will tell you, Charles, everything; but not here—not +now. It must be on the way. I have been very wrong, very foolish—but +oh, come, come, do let us be going. I am so afraid he might—” + +“Then I may go with you? You do not object to that?” + +“I much prefer it—much. Do let us make haste!” + +She snatched up her sealskin jacket, and held it to him prettily, that +he might help her into it, which he did neatly and cleverly, smoothing +her great puffed-out sleeves under each shoulder of the coat, still +talking eagerly and taking no toll for his trouble as she stood +patiently, passively before him. + +“And this Hortense? It is your maid, is it not—the woman who had taken +herself off? How comes it that she is with that Italian fellow? Upon my +soul, I don’t understand—not a little bit.” + +“I cannot explain that, either. It is most strange, most +incomprehensible, but we shall soon know. Please, Charles, please do +not get impatient.” + +They passed together down into the hotel courtyard and across it, under +the archway which led past the clerk’s desk into the street. + +On seeing them, he came out hastily and placed himself in front, quite +plainly barring their egress. + +“Oh, madame, one moment,” he said in a tone that was by no means +conciliatory. “The manager wants to speak to you; he told me to tell +you, and stop you if you went out.” + +“The manager can speak to madame when she returns,” interposed the +General angrily, answering for the Countess. + +“I have had my orders, and I cannot allow her—” + +“Stand aside, you scoundrel!” cried the General, blazing up; “or upon +my soul I shall give you such a lesson you will be sorry you were ever +born.” + +At this moment the manager himself appeared in reinforcement, and the +clerk turned to him for protection and support. + +“I was merely giving madame your message, M. Auguste, when this +gentleman interposed, threatened me, maltreated me—” + +“Oh, surely not; it is some mistake;” the manager spoke most suavely. +“But certainly I did wish to speak to madame. I wished to ask her +whether she was satisfied with her apartment. I find that the rooms she +has generally occupied have fallen vacant, in the nick of time. Perhaps +madame would like to look at them, and move?” + +“Thank you, M. Auguste, you are very good; but at another time. I am +very much pressed just now. When I return in an hour or two, not now.” + +The manager was profuse in his apologies, and made no further +difficulty. + +“Oh, as you please, madame. Perfectly. By and by, later, when you +choose.” + +The fact was, the desired result had been obtained. For now, on the far +side from where he had been watching, Galipaud appeared, no doubt in +reply to some secret signal, and the detective with a short nod in +acknowledgment had evidently removed his embargo. + +A cab was called, and Sir Charles, having put the Countess in, was +turning to give the driver his instructions, when a fresh complication +arose. + +Some one coming round the corner had caught a glimpse of the lady +disappearing into the fiacre, and cried out from afar. + +“Stay! Stop! I want to speak to that lady; detain her.” It was the +sharp voice of little M. Floçon, whom most of those present, certainly +the Countess and Sir Charles, immediately recognized. + +“No, no, no—don’t let them keep me—I cannot wait now,” she whispered in +earnest, urgent appeal. It was not lost on her loyal and devoted +friend. + +“Go on!” he shouted to the cabman, with all the peremptory insistence +of one trained to give words of command. “Forward! As fast as you can +drive. I’ll pay you double fare. Tell him where to go, Sabine. I’ll +follow—in less than no time.” + +The fiacre rattled off at top speed, and the General turned to confront +M. Floçon. + +The little detective was white to the lips with rage and +disappointment; but he also was a man of promptitude, and before +falling foul of this pestilent Englishman, who had again marred his +plans, he shouted to Galipaud— + +“Quick! After them! Follow her wherever she goes. Take this,”—he thrust +a paper into his subordinate’s hand. “It is a warrant for her arrest. +Seize her wherever you find her, and bring her to the Quai l’Horloge,” +the euphemistic title of the headquarters of the French police. + +The pursuit was started at once, and then the Chief turned upon Sir +Charles. “Now it is between us,” he said, fiercely. “You must account +to me for what you have done.” + +“Must I?” answered the General, mockingly and with a little laugh. “It +is perfectly easy. Madame was in a hurry, so I helped her to get away. +That was all.” + +“You have traversed and opposed the action of the law. You have impeded +me, the Chief of the Detective Service, in the execution of my duty. It +is not the first time, but now you must answer for it.” + +“Dear me!” said the General in the same flippant, irritating tone. + +“You will have to accompany me now to the Prefecture.” + +“And if it does not suit me to go?” + +“I will have you carried there, bound, tied hand and foot, by the +police, like any common rapscallion taken in the act who resists the +authority of an officer.” + +“Oho, you talk very big, sir. Perhaps you will be so obliging as to +tell me what I have done.” + +“You have connived at the escape of a criminal from justice—” + +“That lady? Psha!” + +“She is charged with a heinous crime—that in which you yourself were +implicated—the murder of that man on the train.” + +“Bah! You must be a stupid goose, to hint at such a thing! A lady of +birth, breeding, the highest respectability—impossible!” + +“All that has not prevented her from allying herself with base, common +wretches. I do not say she struck the blow, but I believe she inspired, +concerted, approved it, leaving her confederates to do the actual +deed.” + +“Confederates?” + +“The man Ripaldi, your Italian fellow traveller; her maid, Hortense +Petitpré, who was missing this morning.” + +The General was fairly staggered at this unexpected blow. Half an hour +ago he would have scouted the very thought, indignantly repelled the +spoken words that even hinted a suspicion of Sabine Castagneto. But +that telegram, signed Ripaldi, the introduction of the maid’s name, and +the suggestion that she was troublesome, the threat that if the +Countess did not go, they would come to her, and her marked uneasiness +thereat—all this implied plainly the existence of collusion, of some +secret relations, some secret understanding between her and the others. + +He could not entirely conceal the trouble that now overcame him; it +certainly did not escape so shrewd an observer as M. Floçon, who +promptly tried to turn it to good account. + +“Come, M. le Général,” he said, with much assumed _bonhomie_. “I can +see how it is with you, and you have my sincere sympathy. We are all of +us liable to be carried away, and there is much excuse for you in this. +But now—believe me, I am justified in saying it—now I tell you that our +case is strong against her, that it is not mere speculation, but +supported by facts. Now surely you will come over to our side?” + +“In what way?” + +“Tell us frankly all you know—where that lady has gone, help us to lay +our hands on her.” + +“Your own people will do that. I heard you order that man to follow +her.” + +“Probably; still I would rather have the information from you. It would +satisfy me of your good-will. I need not then proceed to extremities—” + +“I certainly shall not give it you,” said the General, hotly. “Anything +I know about or have heard from the Contessa Castagneto is sacred; +besides, I still believe in her—thoroughly. Nothing you have said can +shake me.” + +“Then I must ask you to accompany me to the Prefecture. You will come, +I trust, on my _invitation_.” The Chief spoke quietly, but with +considerable dignity, and he laid a slight stress upon the last word. + +“Meaning that if I do not, you will have resort to something stronger?” + +“That will be quite unnecessary, I am sure,—at least I hope so. Still—” + +“I will go where you like, only I will tell you nothing more, not a +single word; and before I start, I must let my friends at the Embassy +know where to find me.” + +“Oh, with all my heart,” said the little detective, shrugging his +shoulders. “We will call there on our way, and you can tell the porter. +They will know where to find us.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Sir Charles Collingham and his escort, M. Floçon, entered a cab +together and were driven first to the Faubourg St. Honoré. The General +tried hard to maintain his nonchalance, but he was yet a little +crestfallen at the turn things had taken, and M. Floçon, who, on the +other hand, was elated and triumphant, saw it. But no words passed +between them until they arrived at the portals of the British Embassy, +and the General handed out his card to the magnificent porter who +received them. + +“Kindly let Colonel Papillon have that without delay.” The General had +written a few words: “I have got into fresh trouble. Come on to me at +the Police Prefecture if you can spare the time.” + +“The Colonel is now in the Chancery: will not monsieur wait?” asked the +porter, with superb civility. + +But the detective would not suffer this, and interposed, answering +abruptly for Sir Charles: + +“No. It is impossible. We are going to the Quai l’Horloge. It is an +urgent matter.” + +The porter knew what the Quai l’Horloge meant, and he guessed +intuitively who was speaking. Every Frenchman can recognize a police +officer, and has, as a rule, no great opinion of him. + +“Very well!” now said the porter, curtly, as he banged the wicket-gate +on the retreating cab, and he did not hurry himself in giving the card +to Colonel Papillon. + +“Does this mean that I am a prisoner?” asked Sir Charles, his gorge +rising, as it did easily. + +“It means, monsieur, that you are in the hands of justice until your +recent conduct has been fully explained,” said the detective, with the +air of a despot. + +“But I protest—” + +“I wish to hear no further observations, monsieur. You may reserve them +till you can give them to the right person.” + +The General’s temper was sorely ruffled. He did not like it at all; yet +what could he do? Prudence gained the day, and after a struggle he +decided to submit, lest worse might befall him. + +There was, in truth, worse to be encountered. It was very irksome to be +in the power of this now domineering little man on his own ground, and +eager to show his power. It was with a very bad grace that Sir Charles +obeyed the curt orders he received, to leave the cab, to enter at a +side door of the Prefecture, to follow this pompous conductor along the +long vaulted passages of this rambling building, up many flights of +stone stairs, to halt obediently at his command when at length they +reached a closed door on an upper story. + +“It is here!” said M. Floçon, as he turned the handle unceremoniously +without knocking. “Enter.” + +A man was seated at a small desk in the centre of a big bare room, who +rose at once at the sight of M. Floçon, and bowed deferentially without +speaking. + +“Baume,” said the Chief, shortly, “I wish to leave this gentleman with +you. Make him at home,”—the words were spoken in manifest irony,—“and +when I call you, bring him at once to my cabinet. You, monsieur, you +will oblige me by staying here.” + +Sir Charles nodded carelessly, took the first chair that offered, and +sat down by the fire. + +He was to all intents and purposes in custody, and he examined his +gaoler at first wrathfully, then curiously, struck with his rather +strange figure and appearance. Baume, as the Chief had called him, was +a short, thick-set man with a great shock head sunk in low between a +pair of enormous shoulders, betokening great physical strength; he +stood on very thin but greatly twisted bow legs, and the quaintness of +his figure was emphasized by the short black blouse or smock-frock he +wore over his other clothes like a French artisan. + +He was a man of few words, and those not the most polite in tone, for +when the General began with a banal remark about the weather, M. Baume +replied, shortly: + +“I wish to have no talk;” and when Sir Charles pulled out his +cigarette-case, as he did almost automatically from time to time when +in any situation of annoyance or perplexity, Baume raised his hand +warningly and grunted: + +“Not allowed.” + +“Then I’ll be hanged if I don’t smoke in spite of every man jack of +you!” cried the General, hotly, rising from his seat and speaking +unconsciously in English. + +“What’s that?” asked Baume, gruffly. He was one of the detective staff, +and was only doing his duty according to his lights, and he said so +with such an injured air that the General was pacified, laughed, and +relapsed into silence without lighting his cigarette. + +The time ran on, from minutes into nearly an hour, a very trying wait +for Sir Charles. There is always something irritating in doing +antechamber work, in kicking one’s heels in the waiting-room of any +functionary or official, high or low, and the General found it hard to +possess himself in patience, when he thought he was being thus +ignominiously treated by a man like M. Floçon. All the time, too, he +was worrying himself about the Countess, wondering first how she had +fared; next, where she was just then; last of all, and longest, whether +it was possible for her to be mixed up in anything compromising or +criminal. + +Suddenly an electric bell struck in the room. There was a table +telephone at Baume’s elbow; he took up the handle, put the tube to his +mouth and ear, got his message answered, and then, rising, said +abruptly to Sir Charles: + +“Come.” + +When the General was at last ushered into the presence of the Chief of +the Detective Police, he found to his satisfaction that Colonel +Papillon was also there, and at M. Floçon’s side sat the instructing +judge, M. Beaumont le Hardi, who, after waiting politely until the two +Englishmen had exchanged greetings, was the first to speak, and in +apology. + +“You will, I trust, pardon us, M. le Général, for having detained you +here and so long. But there were, as we thought, good and sufficient +reasons. If those have now lost some of their cogency, we still stand +by our action as having been justifiable in the execution of our duty. +We are now willing to let you go free, because—because—” + +“We have caught the person, the lady you helped to escape,” blurted out +the detective, unable to resist making the point. + +“The Countess? Is she here, in custody? Never!” + +“Undoubtedly she is in custody, and in very close custody too,” went on +M. Floçon, gleefully. “_Au secret_, if you know what that means—in a +cell separate and apart, where no one is permitted to see or speak to +her.” + +“Surely not that? Jack—Papillon—this must not be. I beg of you, +implore, insist, that you will get his lordship to interpose.” + +“But, sir, how can I? You must not ask impossibilities. The Contessa +Castagneto is really an Italian subject now.” + +“She is English by birth, and whether or no, she is a woman, a +high-bred lady; and it is abominable, unheard-of, to subject her to +such monstrous treatment,” said the General. + +“But these gentlemen declare that they are fully warranted, that she +has put herself in the wrong—greatly, culpably in the wrong.” + +“I don’t believe it!” cried the General, indignantly. “Not from these +chaps, a pack of idiots, always on the wrong tack! I don’t believe a +word, not if they swear.” + +“But they have documentary evidence—papers of the most damaging kind +against her.” + +“Where? How?” + +“He—M. le Juge—has been showing me a note-book;” and the General’s +eyes, following Jack Papillon’s, were directed to a small _carnet_, or +memorandum-book, which the Judge, interpreting the glance, was tapping +significantly with his finger. + +Then the Judge said blandly, “It is easy to perceive that you protest, +M. le Général, against that lady’s arrest. Is it so? Well, we are not +called upon to justify it to you, not in the very least. But we are +dealing with a brave man, a gentleman, an officer of high rank and +consideration, and you shall know things that we are not bound to tell, +to you or to any one.” + +“First,” he continued, holding up the note-book, “do you know what this +is? Have you ever seen it before?” + +“I am dimly conscious of the fact, and yet I cannot say when or where.” + +“It is the property of one of your fellow travellers—an Italian called +Ripaldi.” + +“Ripaldi?” said the General, remembering with some uneasiness that he +had seen the name at the bottom of the Countess’s telegram. “Ah! now I +understand.” + +“You had heard of it, then? In what connection?” asked the Judge, a +little carelessly, but it was a suddenly planned pitfall. + +“I now understand,” replied the General, perfectly on his guard, “why +the note-book was familiar to me. I had seen it in that man’s hands in +the waiting-room. He was writing in it.” + +“Indeed? A favourite occupation evidently. He was fond of confiding in +that note-book, and committed to it much that he never expected would +see the light—his movements, intentions, ideas, even his inmost +thoughts. The book—which he no doubt lost inadvertently is very +incriminating to himself and his friends.” + +“What do you imply?” hastily inquired Sir Charles. + +“Simply that it is on that which is written here that we base one part, +perhaps the strongest, of our case against the Countess. It is +strangely but convincingly corroborative of our suspicions against +her.” + +“May I look at it for myself?” went on the General in a tone of +contemptuous disbelief. + +“It is in Italian. Perhaps you can read that language? If not, I have +translated the most important passages,” said the Judge, offering some +other papers. + +“Thank you; if you will permit me, I should prefer to look at the +original;” and the General, without more ado, stretched out his hand +and took the note-book. + +What he read there, as he quickly scanned its pages, shall be told in +the next chapter. It will be seen that there were things written that +looked very damaging to his dear friend, Sabine Castagneto. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Ripaldi’s diary—its ownership plainly shown by the record of his name +in full, Natale Ripaldi, inside the cover—was a commonplace note-book +bound in shabby drab cloth, its edges and corners strengthened with +some sort of white metal. The pages were of coarse paper, lined blue +and red, and they were dog-eared and smirched as though they had been +constantly turned over and used. + +The earlier entries were little more than a record of work to do or +done. + +“Jan. 11. To call at Café di Roma, 12.30. Beppo will meet me. + +“Jan. 13. Traced M. L. Last employed as a model at S.’s studio, Palazzo +B. + +“Jan. 15. There is trouble brewing at the Circulo Bonafede; Louvaih, +Malatesta, and the Englishman Sprot, have joined it. All are noted +Anarchists. + +“Jan. 20. Mem., pay Trattore. The Bestia will not wait. X. is also +pressing, and Mariuccia. Situation tightens. + +“Jan. 23. Ordered to watch Q. Could I work him? No. Strong doubts of +his solvency. + +“Feb. 10, 11, 12. After Q. No grounds yet. + +“Feb. 27. Q. keeps up good appearance. Any mistake? Shall I try him? +Sorely pressed. X. threatens me with Prefettura. + +“March 1. Q. in difficulties. Out late every night. Is playing high; +poor luck. + +“March 3. Q. means mischief. Preparing for a start? + +“March 10. Saw Q. about, here, there, everywhere.” + +Then followed a brief account of Quadling’s movements on the day before +his departure from Rome, very much as they have been described in a +previous chapter. These were made mostly in the form of reflections, +conjectures, hopes, and fears; hurry-scurry of pursuit had no doubt +broken the immediate record of events, and these had been entered next +day in the train. + +“March 17 (the day previous). He has not shown up. I thought to see him +at the buffet at Genoa. The conductor took him his coffee to the car. I +hoped to have begun an acquaintance. + +“12.30. Breakfasted at Turin. Q. did not come to table. Found him +hanging about outside restaurant. Spoke; got short reply. Wishes to +avoid observation, I suppose. + +“But he speaks to others. He has claimed acquaintance with madame’s +lady’s maid, and he wants to speak to the mistress. ‘Tell her I must +speak to her,’ I heard him say, as I passed close to them. Then they +separated hurriedly. + +“At Modane he came to the Douane, and afterwards into the restaurant. +He bowed across the table to the lady. She hardly recognized him, which +is odd. Of course she must know him; then why—? There is something +between them, and the maid is in it. + +“What shall _I_ do? I could spoil any game of theirs if I stepped in. +What are they after? His money, no doubt. + +“So am I; I have the best right to it, for I can do most for him. He is +absolutely in my power, and he’ll see that—he’s no fool—directly he +knows who I am, and why I’m here. It will be worth his while to buy me +off, if I’m ready to sell myself, and my duty, and the Prefettura—and +why shouldn’t I? What better can I do? Shall I ever have such a chance +again? Twenty, thirty, forty thousand lire, more, even, at one stroke; +why, it’s a fortune! I could go to the Republic, to America, North or +South, send for Mariuccia—no, _cospetto!_ I will continue free! I will +spend the money on myself, as I alone will have earned it, and at such +risk. + +“I have worked it out thus: + +“I will go to him at the very last, just before we are reaching Paris. +Tell him, threaten him with arrest, then give him his chance of escape. +No fear that he won’t accept it; he _must_, whatever he may have +settled with the others. _Altro!_ I snap my fingers at them. He has +most to fear from me.” + +The next entries were made after some interval, a long interval,—no +doubt, after the terrible deed had been done,—and the words were traced +with trembling fingers, so that the writing was most irregular and +scarcely legible. + +“Ugh! I am still trembling with horror and fear. I cannot get it out of +my mind; I never shall. Why, what tempted me? How could I bring myself +to do it? + +“But for these two women—they are fiends, furies—it would never have +been necessary. Now one of them has escaped, and the other—she is here, +so cold-blooded, so self-possessed and quiet—who would have thought it +of her? That she, a lady of rank and high breeding, gentle, delicate, +tender-hearted. Tender? the fiend! Oh, shall I ever forget her? + +“And now she has me in her power! But have I not her also? We are in +the same boat—we must sink or swim, together. We are equally bound, I +to her, she to me. What are we to do? How shall we meet inquiry? +_Santissima Donna!_ why did I not risk it, and climb out like the maid? +It was terrible for the moment, but the worst would have been over, and +now—” + +There was yet more, scribbled in the same faltering, agitated +handwriting, and from the context the entries had been made in the +waiting-room of the railroad station. + +“I must attract her attention. She will not look my way. I want her to +understand that I have something special to say to her, and that, as we +are forbidden to speak, I am writing it herein—that she must contrive +to take the book from me and read unobserved. + +“_Cospetto!_ she is stupid! Has fear dazed her entirely? No matter, I +will set it all down.” + +Now followed what the police deemed such damaging evidence. + +“Countess. Remember. Silence—absolute silence. Not a word as to who I +am, or what is common knowledge to us both. It is done. That cannot be +undone. Be brave, resolute; admit nothing. Stick to it that you know +nothing, heard nothing. Deny that you knew _him_, or me. Swear you +slept soundly the night through, make some excuse, say you were +drugged, anything, only be on your guard, and say nothing about me. I +warn you. Leave me alone. Or—but your interests are my interests; we +must stand or fall together. Afterwards I will meet you—I _must_ meet +you somewhere. If we miss at the station front, write to me Poste +Restante, Grand Hôtel, and give me an address. This is imperative. Once +more, silence and discretion.” + +This ended the writing in the note-book, and the whole perusal occupied +Sir Charles from fifteen to twenty minutes, during which the French +officials watched his face closely, and his friend Colonel Papillon +anxiously. + +But the General’s mask was impenetrable, and at the end of his reading +he turned back to read and re-read many pages, holding the book to the +light, and seeming to examine the contents very curiously. + +“Well?” said the Judge at last, when he met the General’s eye. + +“Do you lay great store by this evidence?” asked the General in a calm, +dispassionate voice. + +“Is it not natural that we should? Is it not strongly, conclusively +incriminating?” + +“It would be so, of course, if it were to be depended upon. But as to +that I have my doubts, and grave doubts.” + +“Bah!” interposed the detective; “that is mere conjecture, mere +assertion. Why should not the book be believed? It is perfectly +genuine—” + +“Wait, sir,” said the General, raising his hand. “Have you not +noticed—surely it cannot have escaped so astute a police +functionary—that the entries are not all in the same handwriting?” + +“What! Oh, that is too absurd!” cried both the officials in a breath. + +They saw at once that if this discovery were admitted to be an absolute +fact, the whole drift of their conclusions must be changed. + +“Examine the book for yourselves. To my mind it is perfectly clear and +beyond all question,” insisted Sir Charles. “I am quite positive that +the last pages were written by a different hand from the first.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +For several minutes both the Judge and the detective pored over the +note-book, examining page after page, shaking their heads, and +declining to accept the evidence of their eyes. + +“I cannot see it,” said the Judge at last; adding reluctantly, “No +doubt there is a difference, but it is to be explained.” + +“Quite so,” put in M. Floçon. “When he wrote the early part, he was +calm and collected; the last entries, so straggling, so ragged, and so +badly written, were made when he was fresh from the crime, excited, +upset, little master of himself. Naturally he would use a different +hand.” + +“Or he would wish to disguise it. It was likely he would so wish,” +further remarked the Judge. + +“You admit, then, that there is a difference?” argued the General, +shrewdly. “But there is more than a disguise. The best disguise leaves +certain unchangeable features. Some letters, capital G’s, H’s, and +others, will betray themselves through the best disguise. I know what I +am saying. I have studied the subject of handwriting; it interests me. +These are the work of two different hands. Call in an expert; you will +find I am right.” + +“Well, well,” said the Judge, after a pause, “let us grant your +position for the moment. What do you deduce? What do you infer +therefrom?” + +“Surely you can see what follows—what this leads us to?” said Sir +Charles, rather disdainfully. + +“I have formed an opinion—yes, but I should like to see if it coincides +with yours. You think—” + +“I _know_,” corrected the General. “I know that, as two persons wrote +in that book, either it is not Ripaldi’s book, or the last of them was +not Ripaldi. I saw the last writer at his work, saw him with my own +eyes. Yet he did not write with Ripaldi’s hand—this is incontestable, I +am sure of it, I will swear it—_ergo_, he is not Ripaldi.” + +“But you should have known this at the time,” interjected M. Floçon, +fiercely. “Why did you not discover the change of identity? You should +have seen that this was not Ripaldi.” + +“Pardon me. I did not know the man. I had not noticed him particularly +on the journey. There was no reason why I should. I had no +communication, no dealings, with any of my fellow passengers except my +brother and the Countess.” + +“But some of the others would surely have remarked the change?” went on +the Judge, greatly puzzled. “That alone seems enough to condemn your +theory, M. le General.” + +“I take my stand on fact, not theory,” stoutly maintained Sir Charles, +“and I am satisfied I am right.” + +“But if that was not Ripaldi, who was it? Who would wish to masquerade +in his dress and character, to make entries of that sort, as if under +his hand?” + +“Some one determined to divert suspicion from himself to others—” + +“But stay—does he not plainly confess his own guilt?” + +“What matter if he is not Ripaldi? Directly the inquiry was over, he +could steal away and resume his own personality—that of a man supposed +to be dead, and therefore safe from all interference and future +pursuit.” + +“You mean—Upon my word, I compliment you, M. le Général. It is really +ingenious! remarkable, indeed! superb!” cried the Judge, and only +professional jealousy prevented M. Floçon from conceding the same +praise. + +“But how—what—I do not understand,” asked Colonel Papillon in +amazement. His wits did not travel quite so fast as those of his +companions. + +“Simply this, my dear Jack,” explained the General: “Ripaldi must have +tried to blackmail Quadling, as he proposed, and Quadling turned the +tables on him. They fought, no doubt, and Quadling killed him, possibly +in self-defence. He would have said so, but in his peculiar position as +an absconding defaulter he did not dare. That is how I read it, and I +believe that now these gentlemen are disposed to agree with me.” + +“In theory, certainly,” said the Judge, heartily. “But oh! for some +more positive proof of this change of character! If we could only +identify the corpse, prove clearly that it is not Quadling. And still +more, if we had not let this so-called Ripaldi slip through our +fingers! You will never find him, M. Floçon, never.” + +The detective hung his head in guilty admission of this reproach. + +“We may help you in both these difficulties, gentlemen,” said Sir +Charles, pleasantly. “My friend here, Colonel Papillon, can speak as to +the man Quadling. He knew him well in Rome, a year or two ago.” + +“Please wait one moment only;” the detective touched a bell, and +briefly ordered two fiacres to the door at once. + +“That is right, M. Floçon,” said the Judge. “We will all go to the +Morgue. The body is there by now. You will not refuse your assistance, +monsieur?” + +“One moment. As to the other matter, M. le General?” went on M. Floçon. +“Can you help us to find this miscreant, whoever he may be?” + +“Yes. The man who calls himself Ripaldi is to be found—or, at least, +you would have found him an hour or so ago—at the Hotel Ivoire, Rue +Bellechasse. But time has been lost, I fear.” + +“Nevertheless, we will send there.” + +“The woman Hortense was also with him when last I heard of them.” + +“How do you know?” began the detective, suspiciously. + +“Psha!” interrupted the Judge; “that will keep. This is the time for +action, and we owe too much to the General to distrust him now.” + +“Thank you; I am pleased to hear you say that,” went on Sir Charles. +“But if I have been of some service to you, perhaps you owe me a little +in return. That poor lady! Think what she is suffering. Surely, to +oblige me, you will now set her free?” + +“Indeed, monsieur, I fear—I do not see how, consistently with my +duty”—protested the Judge. + +“At least allow her to return to her hotel. She can remain there at +your disposal. I will promise you that.” + +“How can you answer for her?” + +“She will do what I ask, I think, if I may send her just two or three +lines.” + +The Judge yielded, smiling at the General’s urgency, and shrewdly +guessing what it implied. + +Then the three departures from the Prefecture took place within a short +time of each other. + +A posse of police went to arrest Ripaldi; the Countess returned to the +Hotel Madagascar; and the Judge’s party started for the Morgue,—only a +short journey,—where they were presently received with every mark of +respect and consideration. + +The keeper, or officer in charge, was summoned, and came out bareheaded +to the fiacre, bowing low before his distinguished visitors. + +“Good morning, La Pêche,” said M. Floçon in a sharp voice. “We have +come for an identification. The body from the Lyons Station—he of the +murder in the sleeping-car—is it yet arrived?” + +“But surely, at your service, Chief,” replied the old man, +obsequiously. “If the gentlemen will give themselves the trouble to +enter the office, I will lead them behind, direct into the mortuary +chamber. There are many people in yonder.” + +It was the usual crowd of sightseers passing slowly before the plate +glass of this, the most terrible shop-front in the world, where the +goods exposed, the merchandise, are hideous corpses laid out in rows +upon the marble slabs, the battered, tattered remnants of outraged +humanity, insulted by the most terrible indignities in death. + +Who make up this curious throng, and what strange morbid motives drag +them there? Those fat, comfortable-looking women, with their baskets on +their arms; the decent workmen in dusty blouses, idling between the +hours of work; the riffraff of the streets, male or female, in various +stages of wretchedness and degradation? A few, no doubt, are impelled +by motives we cannot challenge—they are torn and tortured by suspense, +trembling lest they may recognize missing dear ones among the exposed; +others stare carelessly at the day’s “take,” wondering, perhaps, if +they may come to the same fate; one or two are idle sightseers, not +always French, for the Morgue is a favourite haunt with the +irrepressible tourist doing Paris. Strangest of all, the murderer +himself, the doer of the fell deed, comes here, to the very spot where +his victim lies stark and reproachful, and stares at it spellbound, +fascinated, filled more with remorse, perchance, than fear at the risk +he runs. So common is this trait, that in mysterious murder cases the +police of Paris keep a disguised officer among the crowd at the Morgue, +and have thereby made many memorable arrests. + +“This way, gentlemen, this way;” and the keeper of the Morgue led the +party through one or two rooms into the inner and back recesses of the +buildings. It was behind the scenes of the Morgue, and they were made +free of its most gruesome secrets as they passed along. + +The temperature had suddenly fallen far below freezing-point, and the +icy cold chilled to the very marrow. Still worse was an all-pervading, +acrid odour of artificially suspended animal decay. The cold-air +process, that latest of scientific contrivances to arrest the waste of +tissue, has now been applied at the Morgue to preserve and keep the +bodies fresh, and allow them to be for a longer time exposed than when +running water was the only aid. There are, moreover, many specially +contrived refrigerating chests, in which those still unrecognized +corpses are laid by for months, to be dragged out, if needs be, like +carcasses of meat. + +“What a loathsome place!” cried Sir Charles. “Hurry up, Jack! let us +get out of this, in Heaven’s name!” + +“Where’s my man?” quickly asked Colonel Papillon in response to this +appeal. + +“There, the third from the left,” whispered M. Floçon. “We hoped you +would recognize the corpse at once.” + +“That? Impossible! You do not expect it, surely? Why, the face is too +much mangled for any one to say who it is.” + +“Are there no indications, no marks or signs, to say whether it is +Quadling or not?” asked the Judge in a greatly disappointed tone. + +“Absolutely nothing. And yet I am quite satisfied it is not him. For +the simple reason that—” + +“Yes, yes, go on.” + +“That Quadling in person is standing out there among the crowd.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +M. Floçon was the first to realize the full meaning of Colonel +Papillon’s surprising statement. + +“Run, run, La Pêche! Have the outer doors closed; let no one leave the +place.” + +“Draw back, gentlemen!” he went on, and he hustled his companions with +frantic haste out at the back of the mortuary chamber. “Pray Heaven he +has not seen us! He would know us, even if we do not him.” + +Then with no less haste he seized Colonel Papillon by the arm and +hurried him by the back passages through the office into the outer, +public chamber, where the astonished crowd stood, silent and perturbed, +awaiting explanation of their detention. + +“Quick, monsieur!” whispered the Chief; “point him out to me.” + +The request was not unnecessary, for when Colonel Papillon went +forward, and, putting his hand on a man’s shoulder, saying, “Mr. +Quadling, I think,” the police officer was scarcely able to restrain +his surprise. + +The person thus challenged was very unlike any one he had seen before +that day, Ripaldi most of all. The moustache was gone, the clothes were +entirely changed; a pair of dark green spectacles helped the disguise. +It was strange indeed that Papillon had known him; but at the moment of +recognition Quadling had removed his glasses, no doubt that he might +the better examine the object of his visit to the Morgue, that gruesome +record of his own fell handiwork. + +Naturally he drew back with well-feigned indignation, muttering +half-unintelligible words in French, denying stoutly both in voice and +gesture all acquaintance with the person who thus abruptly addressed +him. + +“This is not to be borne,” he cried. “Who are you that dares—” + +“Ta! ta!” quietly put in M. Floçon; “we will discuss that fully, but +not here. Come into the office; come, I say, or must we use force?” + +There was no escaping now, and with a poor attempt at bravado the +stranger was led away. + +“Now, Colonel Papillon, look at him well. Do you know him? Are you +satisfied it is—” + +“Mr. Quadling, late banker, of Rome. I have not the slightest doubt of +it. I recognize him beyond all question.” + +“That will do. Silence, sir!” This to Quadling. “No observations. I too +can recognize you now as the person who called himself Ripaldi an hour +or two ago. Denial is useless. Let him be searched; thoroughly, you +understand, La Pêche? Call in your other men; he may resist.” + +They gave the wretched man but scant consideration, and in less than +three minutes had visited every pocket, examined every secret +receptacle, and practically turned him inside out. + +After this there could no longer be any doubt of his identity, still +less of his complicity in the crime. + +First among the many damning evidences of his guilt was the missing +pocketbook of the porter of the sleeping-car. Within was the train card +and the passengers’ tickets, all the papers which the man Groote had +lost so unaccountably. They had, of course, been stolen from his person +with the obvious intention of impeding the inquiry into the murder. +Next, in another inner pocket was Quadling’s own wallet, with his own +visiting-cards, several letters addressed to him by name; above all, a +thick sheaf of bank-notes of all nationalities—English, French, +Italian, and amounting in total value to several thousands of pounds. + +“Well, do you still deny? Bah! it is childish, useless, mere waste of +breath. At last we have penetrated the mystery. You may as well +confess. Whether or no, we have enough to convict you by independent +testimony,” said the Judge, severely. “Come, what have you to say?” + +But Quadling, with pale, averted face, stood obstinately mute. He was +in the toils, the net had closed round him, they should have no +assistance from him. + +“Come, speak out; it will be best. Remember, we have means to make +you—” + +“Will you interrogate him further, M. Beaumont le Hardi? Here, at +once?” + +“No, let him be removed to the Prefecture; it will be more convenient; +to my private office.” + +Without more ado a fiacre was called, and the prisoner was taken off +under escort, M. Floçon seated by his side, one policeman in front, +another on the box, and lodged in a secret cell at the Quai l’Horloge. + +“And you, gentlemen?” said the Judge to Sir Charles and Colonel +Papillon. “I do not wish to detain you further, although there may be +points you might help us to elucidate if I might venture to still +trespass on your time?” + +Sir Charles was eager to return to the Hôtel Madagascar, and yet he +felt that he should best serve his dear Countess by seeing this to the +end. So he readily assented to accompany the Judge, and Colonel +Papillon, who was no less curious, agreed to go too. + +“I sincerely trust,” said the Judge on the way, “that our people have +laid hands on that woman Petitpré. I believe that she holds the key to +the situation, that when we hear her story we shall have a clear case +against Quadling; and—who knows?—she may completely exonerate Madame la +Comtesse.” + +During the events just recorded, which occupied a good hour, the police +agents had time to go and come from the Rue Bellechasse. They did not +return empty-handed, although at first it seemed as if they had made a +fruitless journey. The Hôtel Ivoire was a very second-class place, a +lodging-house, or hotel with furnished rooms let out by the week to +lodgers with whom the proprietor had no very close acquaintance. His +clerk did all the business, and this functionary produced the register, +as he is bound by law, for the inspection of the police officers, but +afforded little information as to the day’s arrivals. + +“Yes, a man calling himself Dufour had taken rooms about midday, one +for himself, one for madame who was with him, also named Dufour—his +sister, he said;” and he went on at the request of the police officers +to describe them. + +“Our birds,” said the senior agent, briefly. “They are wanted. We +belong to the detective police.” + +“All right.” Such visits were not new to the clerk. + +“But you will not find monsieur; he is out; there hangs his key. +Madame? No, she is within. Yes, that is certain, for not long since she +rang her bell. There, it goes again.” + +He looked up at the furiously oscillating bell, but made no move. + +“Bah! they do not pay for service; let her come and say what she +needs.” + +“Exactly; and we will bring her,” said the officer, making for the +stairs and the room indicated. + +But on reaching the door, they found it locked. From within? Hardly, +for as they stood there in doubt, a voice inside cried vehemently: + +“Let me out! Help! Help! Send for the police. I have much to tell them. +Quick! Let me out.” + +“We are here, my dear, just as you require us. But wait; step down, +Gaston, and see if the clerk has a second key. If not, call in a +locksmith—the nearest. A little patience only, my beauty. Do not fear.” + +The key was quickly produced, and an entrance effected. + +A woman stood there in a defiant attitude, with arms akimbo; she, no +doubt, of whom they were in search. A tall, rather masculine-looking +creature, with a dark, handsome face, bold black eyes just now flashing +fiercely, rage in every feature. + +“Madame Dufour?” began the police officer. + +“Dufour! Rot! My name is Hortense Petitpré; who are you? _La Rousse?_” +(Police.) + +“At your service. Have you anything to say to us? We have come on +purpose to take you to the Prefecture quietly, if you will let us; or—” + +“I will go quietly. I ask nothing better. I have to lay information +against a miscreant—a murderer—the vile assassin who would have made me +his accomplice—the banker, Quadling, of Rome!” + +In the fiacre Hortense Petitpré talked on with such incessant abuse, +virulent and violent, of Quadling, that her charges were neither +precise nor intelligible. + +It was not until she appeared before M. Beaumont le Hardi, and was +handled with great dexterity by that practised examiner, that her story +took definite form. + +What she had to say will be best told in the clear, formal language of +the official disposition. + +The witness inculpated stated: + +“She was named Aglaé Hortense Petitpré, thirty-four years of age, a +Frenchwoman, born in Paris, Rue de Vincennes No. 374. Was engaged by +the Contessa Castagneto, November 19, 189—, in Rome, as lady’s maid, +and there, at her mistress’s domicile, became acquainted with the Sieur +Francis Quadling, a banker of the Via Condotti, Rome. + +“Quadling had pretensions to the hand of the Countess, and sought, by +bribes and entreaties, to interest witness in his suit. Witness often +spoke of him in complimentary terms to her mistress, who was not very +favourably disposed towards him. + +“One afternoon (two days before the murder) Quadling paid a lengthened +visit to the Countess. Witness did not hear what occurred, but Quadling +came out much distressed, and again urged her to speak to the Countess. +He had heard of the approaching departure of the lady from Rome, but +said nothing of his own intentions. + +“Witness was much surprised to find him in the sleeping-car, but had no +talk to him till the following morning, when he asked her to obtain an +interview for him with the Countess, and promised a large reward. In +making this offer he produced a wallet and exhibited a very large +number of notes. + +“Witness was unable to persuade the Countess, although she returned to +the subject frequently. Witness so informed Quadling, who then spoke to +the lady, but was coldly received. + +“During the journey witness thought much over the situation. Admitted +that the sight of Quadling’s money had greatly disturbed her, but, +although pressed, would not say when the first idea of robbing him took +possession of her. (Note by Judge—That she had resolved to do so is, +however, perfectly clear, and the conclusion is borne out by her acts. +It was she who secured the Countess’s medicine bottle; she, beyond +doubt, who drugged the porter at Laroche. In no other way can her +presence in the sleeping-car between Laroche and Paris be accounted +for-presence which she does not deny.) + +“Witness at last reluctantly confessed that she entered the compartment +where the murder was committed, and at a critical moment. An affray was +actually in progress between the Italian Ripaldi and the incriminated +man Quadling, but the witness arrived as the last fatal blow was struck +by the latter. + +“She saw it struck, and saw the victim fall lifeless on the floor. + +“Witness declared she was so terrified she could at first utter no cry, +nor call for help, and before she could recover herself the murderer +threatened her with the ensanguined knife. She threw herself on her +knees, imploring pity, but the man Quadling told her that she was an +eye-witness, and could take him to the guillotine,—she also must die. + +“Witness at last prevailed on him to spare her life, but only on +condition that she would leave the car. He indicated the window as the +only way of escape; but on this for a long time she refused to venture, +declaring that it was only to exchange one form of death for another. +Then, as Quadling again threatened to stab her, she was compelled to +accept this last chance, never hoping to win out alive. + +“With Quadling’s assistance, however, she succeeded in climbing out +through the window and in gaining the roof. He had told her to wait for +the first occasion when the train slackened speed to leave it and shift +for herself. With this intention he gave her a thousand francs, and +bade her never show herself again. + +“Witness descended from the train not far from the small station of +Villeneuve on the line, and there took the local train for Paris. +Landed at the Lyons Station, she heard of the inquiry in progress, and +then, waiting outside, saw Quadling disguised as the Italian leave in +company with another man. She followed and marked Quadling down, +meaning to denounce him on the first opportunity. Quadling, however, on +issuing from the restaurant, had accosted her, and at once offered her +a further sum of five thousand francs as the price of silence, and she +had gone with him to the Hôtel Ivoire, where she was to receive the +sum. Quadling had paid it, but on one condition, that she would remain +at the Hotel Ivoire until the following day. Apparently he had +distrusted her, for he had contrived to lock her into her compartment. +As she did not choose to be so imprisoned, she summoned assistance, and +was at length released by the police.” + +This was the substance of Hortense Petitpré’s deposition, and it was +corroborated in many small details. + +When she appeared before the Judge, with whom Sir Charles Collingham +and Colonel Papillon were seated, the former at once pointed out that +she was wearing a dark mantle trimmed with the same sort of +passementerie as that picked up in the sleeping-car. + +L’ENVOI + + +Quadling was in due course brought before the Court of Assize and tried +for his life. There was no sort of doubt of his guilt, and the jury so +found, but, having regard to certain extenuating circumstances, they +recommended him to mercy. The chief of these was Quadling’s positive +assurance that he had been first attacked by Ripaldi; he declared that +the Italian detective had in the first instance tried to come to terms +with him, demanding 50,000 francs as his price for allowing him to go +at large; that when Quadling distinctly refused to be black-mailed, +Ripaldi struck at him with a knife, but that the blow failed to take +effect. + +Then Quadling closed with him and took the knife from him. It was a +fierce encounter, and might have ended either way, but the unexpected +entrance of the woman Petitpré took off Ripaldi’s attention, and then +he, Quadling, maddened and reckless, stabbed him to the heart. + +It was not until after the deed was done that Quadling realized the +full measure of his crime and its inevitable consequences. Then, in a +daring effort to extricate himself, he intimidated the woman Petitpré, +and forced her to escape through the sleeping-car window. + +It was he who had rung the signal-bell to stop the train and give her a +chance of leaving it. It was after the murder, too, that he conceived +the idea of personating Ripaldi, and, having disfigured him beyond +recognition, as he hoped, he had changed clothes and compartments. + +On the strength of this confession Quadling escaped the guillotine, but +he was transported to New Caledonia for life. + +The money taken on him was forwarded to Rome, and was usefully employed +in reducing his liabilities to the depositors in the bank. + +One other word. + +Some time in June the following announcement appeared in all the Paris +papers: + +“Yesterday, at the British Embassy, General Sir Charles Collingham, K. +C. B., was married to Sabine, Contessa di Castagneto, widow of the +Italian Count of that name.” + +THE END. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11451 *** |