“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 Petitpre.  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. Flocon,—­“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?”