“Parbleu! she has dared.  Most certainly she is not here.”

“But what can have become of her?”

“Ah, madame, what indeed?  Can you form any idea?  We hoped you might have been able to enlighten us.”

“I cannot, monsieur, not in the least.”

“Perchance you sent her on to your hotel to warn your friends that you were detained?  To fetch them, perhaps, to you in your trouble?”

The trap was neatly contrived, but she was not deceived.

“How could I?  I knew of no trouble when I saw her last.”

“Oh, indeed? and when was that?”

“Last night, at Amberieux, as I have already told that gentleman.”  She pointed to M. Flocon, who was obliged to nod his head.

“Well, she has gone away somewhere.  It does not much matter, still it is odd, and for your sake we should like to help you to find her, if you do wish to find her?”

Another little trap which failed.

“Indeed I hardly think she is worth keeping after this barefaced desertion.”

“No, indeed.  And she must be held to strict account for it, must justify it, give her reasons.  So we must find her for you—­”

“I am not at all anxious, really,” the Countess said, quickly, and the remark told against her.

“Well, now, Madame la Comtesse, as to her description.  Will you tell us what was her height, figure, colour of eyes, hair, general appearance?”

“She was tall, above the middle height, at least; slight, good figure, black hair and eyes.”

“Pretty?”

“That depends upon what you mean by ‘pretty.’  Some people might think so, in her own class.”

“How was she dressed?”

“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 Petitpre, 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. Flocon, 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.”