The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [4162]
"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