Then Colonel Papillon rode off, and the General was driven to the Boulevard des Capucines, having much to occupy his thoughts by the way.
It did not greatly please him to have this story of the Countess's relations with Quadling, as first hinted at by the police, endorsed now by his friend Papillon.
Clearly she had kept up her acquaintance, her intimacy to the very last: why otherwise should she have received him, alone, been closeted with him for an hour or more on the very eve of his flight?
It was a clandestine acquaintance too, or seemed so, for Sir Charles, although a frequent visitor at her house, had never met Quadling there.
What did it all mean?
And yet, what, after all, did it matter to him?
A good deal really more than he chose to admit to himself, even now, when closely questioning his secret heart.
The fact was, the Countess had made a very strong impression on him from the first.
He had admired her greatly during the past winter at Rome, but then it was only a passing fancy, as he thought,--the pleasant platonic flirtation of a middle-aged man, who never expected to inspire or feel a great love.
Only now, when he had shared a serious trouble with her, had passed through common difficulties and dangers, he was finding what accident may do--how it may fan a first liking into a stronger flame.
It was absurd, of course.
He was fifty-one, he had weathered many trifling affairs of the heart, and here he was, bowled over at last, and by a woman he was not certain was entitled to his respect.
What was he to do?
The answer came at once and unhesitatingly, as it would to any other honest, chivalrous gentleman.
"By George, I'll stick to her through thick and thin!
I'll trust her whatever happens or has happened, come what may.
Such a woman as that is above suspicion.
She _must_ be straight.
I should be a beast and a blackguard double distilled to think anything else.
I am sure she can put all right with a word, can explain everything when she chooses.
I will wait till she does."
Thus fortified and decided, Sir Charles took his way to the Hotel Madagascar about noon.
At the desk he inquired for the Countess, and begged that his card might be sent up to her.
The man looked at it, then at the visitor, as he stood there waiting rather impatiently, then again at the card. At last he walked out and across the inner courtyard of the hotel to the office.
Presently the manager came back, bowing low, and, holding the card in his hand, began a desultory conversation.
"Yes, yes," cried the General, angrily cutting short all references to the weather and the number of English visitors in Paris. "But be so good as to let Madame la Comtesse know that I have called."
"Ah, to be sure!
I came to tell Monsieur le General that madame will hardly be able to see him.
She is indisposed, I believe.
At any rate, she does not receive to-day."
"As to that, we shall see.
I will take no answer except direct from her.
Take or send up my card without further delay.
I insist!
Do you hear?" said the General, so fiercely that the manager turned tail and fled up-stairs.
Perhaps he yielded his ground the more readily that he saw over the General's shoulder the figure of Galipaud the detective looming in the archway.
It had been arranged that, as it was not advisable to have the inspector hanging about the courtyard of the hotel, the clerk or the manager should keep watch over the Countess and detain any visitors who might call upon her.
Galipaud had taken post at a wine-shop over the way, and was to be summoned whenever his presence was thought necessary.
There he was now, standing just behind the General, and for the present unseen by him.
But then a telegraph messenger came in and up to the desk.
He held the usual blue envelope in his hand, and called out the name on the address:
"Castagneto.
Contessa Castagneto."
At sound of which the General turned sharply, to find Galipaud advancing and stretching out his hand to take the message.
"Pardon me," cried Sir Charles, promptly interposing and understanding the situation at a glance. "I am just going up to see that lady.
Give me the telegram."
Galipaud would have disputed the point, when the General, who had already recognized him, said quietly:
"No, no, Inspector, you have no earthly right to it.
I guess why you are here, but you are not entitled to interfere with private correspondence.
Stand back;" and seeing the detective hesitate, he added peremptorily: "Enough of this.