“I don’t see it in that light.  That would imply that she was not in the plot, and plot there certainly was; everything points to it.  The drugging, the open window, the maid’s escape.”

“A plot, no doubt, but organized by whom?  These two women only?  Could either of them have struck the fatal blow?  Hardly.  Women have the wit to conceive, but neither courage nor brute force to execute.  There was a man in this, rest assured.”

“Granted.  But who?  That fire-eating Sir Collingham?” quickly asked the detective, giving rein once more to his hatred.

“That is not a solution that commends itself to me, I must confess,” declared the Judge.  “The General’s conduct has been blameworthy and injudicious, but he is not of the stuff that makes criminals.”

“Who, then?  The porter?  No?  The clergyman?  No?  The French gentlemen?—­well, we have not examined them yet; but from what I saw at the first cursory glance, I am not disposed to suspect them.”

“What of that Italian?” asked the Commissary.

“Are you sure of him?  His looks did not please me greatly, and he was very eager to get away from here.  What if he takes to his heels?”

“Block is with him,” the Chief put in hastily, with the evident desire to stifle an unpleasant misgiving.  “We have touch of him if we want him, as we may.”

How much they might want him they only realized when they got further in their inquiry!

CHAPTER XII

Only the two Frenchmen remained for examination.  They had been left to the last by pure accident.  The exigencies of the inquiry had led to the preference of others, but these two well-broken and submissive gentlemen made no visible protest.  However much they may have chafed inwardly at the delay, they knew better than to object; any outburst of discontent would, they knew, recoil on themselves.  Not only were they perfectly patient now when summoned before the officers of justice, they were most eager to give every assistance to the law, to go beyond the mere letter, and, if needs be, volunteer information.

The first called in was the elder, M. Anatole Lafolay, a true Parisian bourgeois, fat and comfortable, unctuous in speech, and exceedingly deferential.

The story he told was in its main outlines that which we already know, but he was further questioned, by the light of the latest facts and ideas as now elicited.

The line adroitly taken by the Judge was to get some evidence of collusion and combination among the passengers, especially with reference to two of them, the two women of the party.  On this important point M. Lafolay had something to say.

Asked if he had seen or noticed the lady’s maid on the journey, he answered “yes” very decisively and with a smack of the lips, as though the sight of this pretty and attractive person had given him considerable satisfaction.