He wished to pass on, to leave her, she would not consent, then they both got into the cab and were driven away together."
The officials were now listening with all ears.
"Tell me," said the Chief, "quick, this woman--what was she like?
Did you get her description?"
"Tall, slight, well formed, dressed all in black.
Her face--it was a policeman who saw her, and he said she was good-looking, dark, brunette, black hair."
"It is the maid herself!" cried the little Chief, springing up and slapping his thigh in exuberant glee. "The maid! the missing maid!"
CHAPTER XIV
The joy of the Chief of Detectives at having thus come, as he supposed, upon the track of the missing maid, Hortense Petitpre, was somewhat dashed by the doubts freely expressed by the Judge as to the result of any search.
Since Block's return, M. Beaumont le Hardi had developed strong symptoms of discontent and disapproval at his colleague's proceedings.
"But if it was this Hortense Petitpre how did she get there, by the bridge Henri Quatre, when we thought to find her somewhere down the line?
It cannot be the same woman."
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," interposed Block. "May I say one word?
I believe I can supply some interesting information about Hortense Petitpre.
I understand that some one like her was seen here in the station not more than an hour ago."
"_ Peste!_ Why were we not told this sooner?" cried the Chief, impetuously.
"Who saw her?
Did he speak to her?
Call him in; let us see how much he knows."
The man was summoned, one of the subordinate railway officials, who made a specific report.
Yes, he had seen a tall, slight, neat-looking woman, dressed entirely in black, who, according to her account, had arrived at 10.30 by the slow local train from Dijon.
"_ Fichtre!_" said the Chief, angrily; "and this is the first we have heard of it."
"Monsieur was much occupied at the time, and, indeed, then we had not heard of your inquiry."
"I notified the station-master quite early, two or three hours since, about 9 A.M. This is most exasperating!"
"Instructions to look out for this woman have only just reached us, monsieur.
There were certain formalities, I suppose."
For once the detective cursed in his heart the red-tape, roundabout ways of French officialism.
"Well, well! Tell me about her," he said, with a resignation he did not feel. "Who saw her?"
"I, monsieur.
I spoke to her myself.
She was on the outside of the station, alone, unprotected, in a state of agitation and alarm.
I went up and offered my services. Then she told me she had come from Dijon, that friends who were to have met her had not appeared.
I suggested that I should put her into a cab and send her to her destination. But she was afraid of losing her friends, and preferred to wait."
"A fine story!
Did she appear to know what had happened?
Had she heard of the murder?"
"Something, monsieur."
"Who could have told her?
Did you?"
"No, not I. But she knew."
"Was not that in itself suspicious?
The fact has not yet been made public."
"It was in the air, monsieur.
There was a general impression that something had happened.
That was to be seen on every face, in the whispered talk, the movement to and fro of the police and the guards."
"Did she speak of it, or refer to it?"
"Only to ask if the murderer was known; whether the passengers had been detained; whether there was any inquiry in progress; and then--"
"What then?"
"This gentleman," pointing to Block, "came out, accompanied by another.
They passed pretty close to us, and I noticed that the lady slipped quickly on one side."