By this time our talk was done, for we were approaching Lucerne, and I began to think over my next plans.  All must depend on what I heard there—­upon what news, if any, came from Ludovic Tiler.

So on my arrival I made my way straight to the telegraph-office in the corner of the great station, and on showing my card an envelope was handed to me.  It was from Tiler at Basle, and ran as follows: 

“They have booked through by 7.30 A.M., via Brienne, Lausanne to Brieg, and I suppose the Simplon.  I shall accompany.  Can you join me at either end—­Brieg or Domo Dossola?  The sooner the better.  Wire me from all places along the route, giving your movements.  Address me in my train No. 70.”

The news pointed pretty clearly to the passage of the Alps and descent into Italy by another route than the St. Gothard.  I had my Bradshaw in my bag, and proceeded at once to verify the itinerary by the time-table, while I drank my early coffee in the restaurant upon the station platform.  I was most anxious to join hands with Tiler, and quickly turned over the leaves of my railway guide to see if it was possible, and how it might best be managed.

My first idea was to retrace my steps to Basle and follow him by the same road.  But I soon found that the trains would not fit in the very least.  He would be travelling by the one fast train in the day, which was due at Brieg at four o’clock in the afternoon.  My first chance, if I caught the very next train back from Lucerne, would only get me to Brieg by the eleven o’clock the following morning.

It was not good enough, and I dismissed the idea forthwith.  Then I remembered that by getting off the St. Gothard railway at Goeschenen I should strike the old Furka diligence route by the Devil’s Bridge, Hospenthal, and the Rhone Glacier, a drive of fifty miles, more or less, but at least it would get me to Brieg that same night by 10 or 11 o’clock.

Before adopting this line I had to consider that there was a risk of missing Tiler and his quarry; that is to say, of being too late for them; for the lady might decide to push on directly she reached Brieg, taking a special carriage extra post as far as the Simplon at least, even into Domo Dossola.  She was presumably in such a hurry that the night journey would hardly deter her from driving over the pass.  Tiler would certainly follow.  By the time I reached Brieg they would be halfway across the Alps, and I must take the same road, making a stern chase, proverbially the longest.

I turned my attention, therefore, to the Italian end of the carriage road, and to seeing how and when I could reach Domo Dossola, the alternative suggestion made by Tiler.  There would be no difficulty as to that, and I found I could be there in good time the same evening.  I worked it out on the tables and it looked easy enough.

Leave Lucerne by the St. Gothard railway, pass Goeschenen, and go through the tunnel down the Italian side as far as Bellizona.  Thence a branch line would take me to Locarno and into touch with the steamboat service on Lake Maggiore.  There was a fixed connection according to the tables, and I should land at Pallanza within a short hour’s drive of the line to Domo Dossola.  I could be established there by nightfall and would command the situation.  Every carriage that came down the Simplon must come under my eye.