“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?”

“All these are possibilities, of course, but—­pardon me, dear colleague—­a little far-fetched, eh?” said the Judge.  “Why not utilize this man?  If he betrays us—­serves us ill—­if we had reason to lay hands on him again, he could hardly escape us.”