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.
