But much may happen in that brief space of time.
It was more than enough for my fugitives to clear out of the Lausanne station and make some new move, to hide away in an out-of-the-way spot, go to ground in fact, or travel in another direction.
My first business was to inquire in and about the station for a person or persons answering to the parties I missed.
Had they separated, these two women, for good and all?
That was most unlikely.
If the maid had gone off first, I had to consider whether they would not again join forces as soon as I was well out of the way.
They would surely feel safer, happier, together, and this encouraged me to ask first for two people, two females, a lady and her servant, one of them, the latter, carrying a child.
There were many officials about in uniform, and all alike supercilious and indifferent, after the manner of their class, to the travelling public, and I could get none to take the smallest interest in my affairs.
One shrugged his shoulders, another stared at me in insolent silence, a third answered me abruptly that he was too occupied to bother himself, and a fourth peremptorily ordered me not to hang any longer about the station.
Foiled thus by the railway staff—and I desire to place on record here my deliberate opinion after many years' experience in many lands, that for rudeness and overbearing manners the Swiss functionary has no equal in the whole world—I went outside the station and sought information among the cabmen and touts who hang about waiting to take up travellers.
I accosted all the drivers patiently one by one, but could gather nothing definite from any of them.
Most had been on the stand at the arrival of the midday train, many had been engaged to convey passengers and baggage up into the town of Lausanne, and had deposited their fares at various hotels and private residences, but no one had driven any party answering to those of whom I was in search.
This practically decided the point that my lady had not left the station in a carriage or openly, if she had walked.
But that she had not been observed did not dispose of the question.
They were dull, stupid men, these, only intent on their own business, who would pay little attention to humble persons on foot showing no desire to hire a cab.
I would not be baffled thus soon in my quest.
A confidential agent who will not take infinite pains in his researches had better seek some other line of business.
As I stood there in front of the great station belonging to the Jura-Simplon, I saw facing me a small facade of the Gare Sainte Luce, one of the intermediate stations on the Ficelle or cable railway that connects Ouchy on the lake with Lausanne above.
It was not a hundred yards distant; it could be easily and quickly reached, and without much observation, if a person waited till the immediate neighbourhood had been cleared by the general exodus after the arrival of the chief express of the day.
There were any number of trains by this funiculaire—at every half-hour indeed—and any one taking this route could reach either Lausanne or Ouchy after a very few minutes' journey up or down.
To extend my investigation on that side was of obvious and pressing importance.
I was only too conscious of my great loss of time, now at the outset, which might efface all tracks and cut me off hopelessly from any clue.
I was soon across and inside the Sainte Luce station, but still undecided which direction I should choose, when the little car arrived going upward, and I ran over to that platform and jumped in.
I must begin one way or the other, and I proceeded at once to question the conductor, when he nicked my ticket, only to draw perfectly blank.
"Have I seen two ladies and a child this morning?
But, grand Dieu, I have seen two thousand.
It is idiote to ask such questions, monsieur, of a busy man."
"I can pay for what I want," I whispered gently, as I slipped a five-franc piece into his hand, ever mindful of the true saying, Point d'argent, point de Suisse; and the bribe entirely changed his tone.
"A lady, handsome, tall, distinguished, comme il faut, with a companion, a servant, a nurse carrying a child?" He repeated my description, adding, "Parfaitement, I saw her.
She was not one to forget quickly."
"And she was going to Lausanne?"
"Ma foi, yes, I believe so; or was it to Ouchy?" He seemed overwhelmed with sudden doubt. "Lausanne or Ouchy?
Up or down?
Twenty thousand thunders, but I cannot remember, not—" he dropped his voice—"not for five francs."
I doubled the dose, and hoped I had now sufficiently stimulated his memory or unloosed his tongue.
But the rascal was still hesitating when we reached the top, and I could get nothing more than that it was certainly Lausanne, "if," he added cunningly, "it was not Ouchy."
But he had seen her, that was sure—seen her that very day upon the line, not more than an hour or two before. He had especially admired her; dame! he had an eye for the beau sexe; and yet more he noticed that she talked English, of which he knew some words, to her maid.
But whether she was bound to Lausanne or Ouchy, "diable, who could say?"
I had got little in return for my ten francs expended on this ambiguous news, but now that I found myself actually in Lausanne I felt that it behoved me to scour the city for traces of my quarry.
She might not have come here at all, yet there was an even chance the other way, and I should be mad not to follow the threads I held in my hand.
I resolved to inquire at all the hotels forthwith.
It would take time and trouble, but it was essential.
I must run her to ground if possible, fix her once more, or I should never again dare to look my employers in the face.
I was ashamed to confess to Falfani that I had been outwitted and befooled. I would send him no more telegrams until I had something more satisfactory to say.
I was now upon the great bridge that spans the valley of the Flon and joins the old with the new quarter of Lausanne.
The best hotels, the Gibbon, Richemont, Falcon, Grand Pont, and several more, stood within easy reach, and I soon exhausted this branch of the inquiry.
I found a valet de place hanging about the Gibbon, whose services I secured, and instructed him to complete the investigation, extending it to all the minor hotels and pensions, some half-dozen more, reserving to myself the terminus by the great station, which I had overlooked when leaving for the Ficelle or cable railway.
I meant to wait for him there to hear his report, but at the same time I took his address—Eugene Falloon, Rue Pre Fleuri—where I could give him an appointment in case I missed him at the terminus.
He was a long, lean, hungry-looking fellow, clumsily made, with an enormous head and misshapen hands and feet; but he was no fool this Falloon, and his local knowledge proved exceedingly useful.
On entering the car for the journey down I came upon the conductor who had been of so little use to me, and I was about to upbraid him when he disarmed me by volunteering fresh news.