"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?"