“But, sir, how can I?  You must not ask impossibilities.  The Contessa Castagneto is really an Italian subject now.”

“She is English by birth, and whether or no, she is a woman, a high-bred lady; and it is abominable, unheard-of, to subject her to such monstrous treatment,” said the General.

“But these gentlemen declare that they are fully warranted, that she has put herself in the wrong—­greatly, culpably in the wrong.”

“I don’t believe it!” cried the General, indignantly.  “Not from these chaps, a pack of idiots, always on the wrong tack!  I don’t believe a word, not if they swear.”

“But they have documentary evidence—­papers of the most damaging kind against her.”

“Where?  How?”

“He—­M. le Juge—­has been showing me a note-book;” and the General’s eyes, following Jack Papillon’s, were directed to a small carnet, or memorandum-book, which the Judge, interpreting the glance, was tapping significantly with his finger.

Then the Judge said blandly, “It is easy to perceive that you protest, M. le General, against that lady’s arrest.  Is it so?  Well, we are not called upon to justify it to you, not in the very least.  But we are dealing with a brave man, a gentleman, an officer of high rank and consideration, and you shall know things that we are not bound to tell, to you or to any one.”

“First,” he continued, holding up the note-book, “do you know what this is?  Have you ever seen it before?”

“I am dimly conscious of the fact, and yet I cannot say when or where.”

“It is the property of one of your fellow travellers—­an Italian called Ripaldi.”

“Ripaldi?” said the General, remembering with some uneasiness that he had seen the name at the bottom of the Countess’s telegram.  “Ah! now I understand.”

“You had heard of it, then?  In what connection?” asked the Judge, a little carelessly, but it was a suddenly planned pitfall.

“I now understand,” replied the General, perfectly on his guard, “why the note-book was familiar to me.  I had seen it in that man’s hands in the waiting-room.  He was writing in it.”

“Indeed?  A favourite occupation evidently.  He was fond of confiding in that note-book, and committed to it much that he never expected would see the light—­his movements, intentions, ideas, even his inmost thoughts.  The book—­which he no doubt lost inadvertently is very incriminating to himself and his friends.”

“What do you imply?” hastily inquired Sir Charles.

“Simply that it is on that which is written here that we base one part, perhaps the strongest, of our case against the Countess.  It is strangely but convincingly corroborative of our suspicions against her.”

“May I look at it for myself?” went on the General in a tone of contemptuous disbelief.

“It is in Italian.  Perhaps you can read that language?  If not, I have translated the most important passages,” said the Judge, offering some other papers.