“By the same door as that through which you had seen the skirt pass?”

“No, by the other.  My brother went back to his berth, but I paused in the corridor to finish my cigarette after the train had gone on.  By this time every one but myself had returned to his berth, and I was on the point of lying down again for half an hour, when I distinctly heard the handle turned of the compartment I knew to be vacant all through the run.”

“That was the one with berths 11 and 12?”

“Probably.  It was next to the Countess.  Not only was the handle turned, but the door partly opened—­”

“It was not the porter?”

“Oh, no, he was in his seat,—­you know it, at the end of the car,—­sound asleep, snoring; I could hear him.”

“Did any one come out of the vacant compartment?”

“No; but I was almost certain, I believe I could swear that I saw the same skirt, just the hem of it, a black skirt, sway forward beyond the door, just for a second.  Then all at once the door was closed again fast.”

“What did you conclude from this?  Or did you think nothing of it?”

“I thought very little.  I supposed it was that the maid wished to be near her mistress as we were approaching Paris, and I had heard from the Countess that the porter had made many difficulties.  But you see, after what has happened, that there was a reason for stopping the train.”

“Quite so,” M. Flocon readily admitted, with a scarcely concealed sneer.

He had quite made up his mind now that it was the Countess who had rung the alarm-bell, in order to allow of the escape of the maid, her confederate and accomplice.

“And you still have an impression that some one—­presumably this woman—­got off the car, somehow, during the stoppage?” he asked.

“I suggest it, certainly.  Whether it was or could be so, I must leave to your superior judgment.”

“What!  A woman climb out like that?  Bah!  Tell that to some one else!”

“You have, of course, examined the exterior of the car, dear colleague?” now said the Judge.

“Assuredly, once, but I will do it again.  Still, the outside is quite smooth, there is no foot-board.  Only an acrobat could succeed in thus escaping, and then only at the peril of his life.  But a woman—­oh, no! it is too absurd.”

“With help she might, I think, get up on to the roof,” quickly remarked Sir Charles.  “I have looked out of the window of my compartment.  It would be nothing for a man, nor much for a woman if assisted.”

“That we will see for ourselves,” said the detective, ungraciously.

“The sooner the better,” added the Judge, and the whole party rose from their chairs, intending to go straight to the car, when the policeman on guard appeared at the door, followed close by an English military officer in uniform, whom he was trying to keep back, but with no great success.  It was Colonel Papillon of the Embassy.