I begin to like the place, and I have found very comfortable quarters at the Hotel Cornavin, near the station.
You may know it."
Could this be really so?
Her perfect frankness amazed me.
I could not credit it, much less understand it.
There was surely some pitfall, some trap concealed for my abounding credulity.
"I also propose to stay some days, but am not yet established." I made so bold as to suggest that I had a great mind to try her Hotel Cornavin.
"Why not?" she replied heartily. "The accommodation is good, nice rooms, civil people, decent cuisine.
It might suit you."
She could not possibly have been more civil and gracious.
Too civil by half, a more cautious man might have told himself.
The tram-car by this time had run through the Place Molard, the Allemand Marche, and was turning into the Rue de la Corraterie, pointing upward for the theatre and the Promenade des Bastions.
Where was my involuntary companion bound?
She settled the question by getting out at the Place Neuve with a few parting words.
"I have a call to make near here. I had forgotten it.
Perhaps I may hope to see you again.
Do try the Cornavin.
If so, sans adieu."
Was it good enough?
I could not allow her to slip through my fingers like this.
What if her whole story was untrue, what if there was no Hotel Cornavin, and no such guests there?
I could not afford to let her out of my sight, and with one spring I also left the car and, catching a last glimpse of her retreating skirts, gave chase.
I cannot say whether she realized that I was following, but she led me a pretty dance.
In and out, and round and round, by narrow streets and dark passages, backwards and forwards, as adroitly as any practised thief eluding the hot pursuit of the police.
At last she paused and looked back, and thinking she had shaken me off (for knowing the game well I had hastily effaced myself in a doorway) plunged into the entrance of a small unpretending hotel in a quiet, retired square—the Hotel Pierre Fatio, certainly not the Cornavin.
The door in which I had taken shelter was that of a dark third-rate cafe well suited to my purpose, and well placed, for I was in full view of the Hotel Pierre Fatio, which I was resolved to watch at least until my lady came out again.
As I slowly absorbed an absinthe, revolving events past and to come, I thought it would be well to draw Falloon to me.
It was past the hour for our meeting.
I scribbled three lines of a note and despatched it to the Cafe de la Couronne by a messenger to whom I fully described my colleague's appearance, desiring him to show the addressed envelope before delivery, but having no doubt that it would reach its destination.
Presently Falloon joined me, and as my lady had as yet made no sign, I bade him continue the watch, while I left the cafe openly and ostentatiously, so that it might be seen by any one curious to know that I had given up the game.
Far from it.
I designed only to try the Hotel Cornavin to ascertain the real facts; and if, as I shrewdly suspected, I had been fooled, to return forthwith and rejoin Falloon at the true point of interest, taking such further steps as might seem desirable.
I was chiefly anxious to regain touch and combine forces with Falfani.
There was no mistake, however, at the Cornavin Hotel. I had not been fooled.
I was told directly I asked at the bureau that a Mrs. Blair, accompanied by her maid and child, was staying in the house.
Could I see her?
If monsieur would send up his card, it should be given her on her return.
She was not at home for the moment. (I knew that.) Would monsieur call again?
I was slow to congratulate myself on what seemed a point gained, for I had still my misgivings, but I would make the most of the chances that offered to my hand.
I secured a room at the Cornavin Hotel, and bespoke another for Falfani, whom I should now summon at once.
With this idea I took the earliest opportunity of telegraphing to him as follows:
“Detained by unfortunate contretemps at Lausanne, happily surmounted, clue lost and regained.
Desire your cooperation.
Come instantly, Hotel Cornavin.
She is here.
"Ludovic."
I noted the time of despatch, 4.17 p.m. It would surely reach Falfani before the last train left Brieg coming my way, and I hardly trusted myself to anticipate the comfort and relief his appearance would bring me.
Combined we could tie ourselves to our quarry, and never let her out of sight until our principals could take over and settle the business.
Then hailing a cab, I drove to a point close by where I had left Falloon, and found the situation entirely unchanged.
No one had come out of the Hotel Pierre Fatio. Mrs. Blair was paying a very long call, and I could not understand it.