Kitabı oku: «The Rome Express», sayfa 4
"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!
