“By me?  How can I explain it?  And the fact does not bear upon what we were considering, as to whether any one had left the car.”

“Why not?”

“The Countess, as we know, never left the car.  As to her entering this particular compartment,—­at any previous time,—­it is highly improbable.  Indeed, it is rather insulting her to suggest it.”

“She and this Quadling were close friends.”

“So you say.  On what evidence I do not know, but I dispute it.”

“Then how could the beads get there?  They were her property, worn by her.”

“Once, I admit, but not necessarily on this journey.  Suppose she had given the mantle away—­to her maid, for instance; I believe ladies often pass on their things to their maids.”

“It is all pure presumption, a mere theory.  This maid—­she has not as yet been imported into the discussion.”

“Then I would suggest that you do so without delay.  She is to my mind a—­well, rather a curious person.”

“You know her—­spoke to her?”

“I know her, in a way.  I had seen her in the Via Margutta, and I nodded to her when she came first into the car.”

“And on the journey—­you spoke to her frequently?”

“I?  Oh, dear, no, not at all.  I noticed her, certainly; I could not help it, and perhaps I ought to tell her mistress.  She seemed to make friends a little too readily with people.”

“As for instance—?”

“With the porter to begin with.  I saw them together at Laroche, in the buffet at the bar; and that Italian, the man who was in here before me; indeed, with the murdered man.  She seemed to know them all.”

“Do you imply that the maid might be of use in this inquiry?”

“Most assuredly I do.  As I tell you, she was constantly in and out of the car, and more or less intimate with several of the passengers.”

“Including her mistress, the Countess,” put in M. Flocon.

The General laughed pleasantly.

“Most ladies are, I presume, on intimate terms with their maids.  They say no man is a hero to his valet.  It is the same, I suppose, with the other sex.”

“So intimate,” went on the little detective, with much malicious emphasis, “that now the maid has disappeared lest she might be asked inconvenient questions about her mistress.”

“Disappeared?  You are sure?”

“She cannot be found, that is all we know.”

“It is as I thought, then.  She it was who left the car!” cried Sir Charles, with so much vehemence that the officials were startled out of their dignified reserve, and shouted back almost in a breath:  “Explain yourself.  Quick, quick.  What in God’s name do you mean?”

“I had my suspicions from the first, and I will tell you why.  At Laroche the car emptied, as you may have heard; every one except the Countess, at least, went over to the restaurant for early coffee; I with the rest.  I was one of the first to finish, and I strolled back to the platform to get a few whiffs of a cigarette.  At that moment I saw, or thought I saw, the end of a skirt disappearing into the sleeping-car.  I concluded it was this maid, Hortense, who was taking her mistress a cup of coffee.  Then my brother came up, we exchanged a few words, and entered the car together.”