Arthur Griffiths

“ 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.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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? ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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!” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 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. ”

“ 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?” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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? ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”