She was bound to cross over into Italy, that we knew, or our employers firmly believed it, and as she had been driven off the St. Gothard by Falfani she had now doubled back by Switzerland to make the journey to Brieg and across the mountains by road.
I had scored as I thought, but I forgot that in gaining the knowledge I had betrayed my own intentions, and put her upon her guard.
I was to pay for this.
"Oh, really," she said quietly and with polite interest, having entirely recovered her composure. "I dare say a very pleasant drive.
How long does it take, have you any idea, and how do you travel?"
"It is about nine hours by diligence," I said, consulting the Bradshaw, "and the fare is forty francs, but by private carriage or extra post a good deal more."
"May I look?" and I handed her the book, "although I never could understand Bradshaw," she added pleasantly.
"I shall be very pleased to explain if you are in doubt," I suggested; but she declined laughingly, saying it would amuse her to puzzle out things, so I left her the book and composed myself into a corner while the train rattled on.
I mused and dozed and dreamily watched her pretty face admiringly, as she pored over the pages of the Guide, little thinking she was perfecting a plan for my undoing.
The first stop was at Biel or Bienne, its French name, and there was a halt of ten minutes or more.
I made my way to the telegraph office in the station, where to my great satisfaction I found a message from Falfani, informing me that he should make the best of his way to Brieg, unless I could suggest something better.
The answer I despatched at once to Goeschenen was worded as follows:
"Declares she is going to Montreux only.
Believe untrue.
Still think her destination Brieg.
Come on there anyhow and await further from me.
May be necessary to join forces."
We were in accord, Falfani and I, and in communication.
I was well satisfied with what we were doing, and on receiving the second and third telegrams at Neuchatel and Yverdun I was all the more pleased.
At last we were nearing Lausanne, and I looked across to my lady to prepare her for getting out.
I had no need to attract her attention, for I caught her eyes fixed on me and believe she was watching me furtively.
The smile that came upon her lips was so pleasant and sweet that it might have overjoyed a more conceited man than myself.
"Are we near then?
Delightful!
I never was so hungry in my life," and the smile expanded into a gay laugh as she rose to her feet and was ready to leave the carriage. "I'm afraid you will have to wait, Philpotts, we cannot leave that," she pointed to the child nestling sound asleep by her side. "But I will send or bring you something.
This gentleman will perhaps escort me to the refreshment-room."
I agreed, of course, and saying,
"Only too charmed," I led the way—a long way, for the restaurant is at the far end of the platform.
At last we sat down tete-a-tete and prepared to do full justice to the meal.
Strange to say, despite her anticipations, she proved to have very little appetite.
"I must have waited too long," she said, as she trifled with a cutlet. "I shall perhaps like something else better," and she went carefully through the whole menu, so that the time slipped away, and we were within five minutes of departure. "And poor dear Philpotts, I had quite forgotten her.
Come and help me choose," and in duty bound I gallantly carried the food back to the train.
I walked ahead briskly, and making my way to the places where we had left the maid and child, jumped in.
They were gone, the two of them.
Everything was gone, rugs, bags, belongings, people.
The seats were empty, and as the compartment was quite empty, too, no one could tell me when they had left or where they had gone.
I turned quickly round to my companion, who was, I thought, following close at my heels, and found to my utter amazement that she also had disappeared.
CHAPTER XI.
For the moment I was dazed and dumfounded, but I took a pull on myself quickly.
It was a clever plant.
Had they sold me completely? That was still to be seen.
My one chance was in prompt action; I must hunt them up, recover trace of them with all possible despatch, follow them, and find them wherever they might be.
There was just the chance that they had only moved into another carriage, thinking that when I missed them I should get out and hunt for them in the station.
To counter that I ran up and down the train, in and out of the carriages, questing like a hound, searching everywhere. So eager was I that I neglected the ordinary warnings that the train was about to start; the guard's fertig ("ready"), the sounding horn, the answering engine whistle, I overlooked them all, and we moved on before I could descend.
I made as though to jump off hastily, but was prevented.
"Was ist das?
Nein, nein, verboten." A hand caught me roughly by the collar and dragged me back. It was the enemy I had made in championing my lady, the guard of the train, who gladly seized the chance of being disagreeable to me.
I fought hard to be free, but by the time I had shaken him off the speed had so increased that it would have been unsafe to leave the train.
I had no choice but to go on, harking back as soon as I could.
Fortunately our first stop was within five and twenty minutes, at Vevey; and there in ten minutes more I found a train back to Lausanne, so that I had lost less than an hour and a half in all.