indignation, mutteringhalf-unintelligible words in French, denying stoutly both in voiceand gesture all acquaintance with the person who thus abruptlyaddressed him.
"This is not to be borne," he cried. "Who are you that dares--"
"Ta! ta!" quietly put in M. Flocon; "we will discuss that fully,but not here. Come into the office; come, I say, or must we useforce?"
There was no escaping now, and with a poor attempt at bravado thestranger was led away.
"Now, Colonel Papillon, look at him well. Do you know him? Are yousatisfied it is--"
"Mr. Quadling, late banker, of Rome. I have not the slightestdoubt of it. I recognize him beyond all question."
"That will do. Silence, sir!" This to Quadling. "No observations.I too can recognize you now as the person who called himselfRipaldi an hour or two ago. Denial is useless. Let him besearched; thoroughly, you understand, La Peche? Call in your othermen; he may resist."
They gave the wretched man but scant consideration, and in lessthan three minutes had visited every pocket, examined every secretreceptacle, and practically turned him inside out.
After this there could no longer be any doubt of his identity,still less of his complicity in the crime.
First among the many damning evidences of his guilt was themissing pocketbook of the porter of the sleeping-car. Within wasthe train card and the passengers' tickets, all the papers whichthe man Groote had lost so unaccountably. They had, of course,been stolen from his person with the obvious intention of impedingthe inquiry into the murder. Next, in another inner pocket wasQuadling's own wallet, with his own visiting-cards, severalletters addressed to him by name; above all, a thick sheaf ofbank-notes of all nationalities--English, French, Italian, andamounting in total value to several thousands of pounds.
"Well, do you still deny? Bah! it is childish, useless, mere wasteof breath. At last we have penetrated the mystery. You may as wellconfess. Whether or no, we have enough to convict you byindependent testimony," said the Judge, severely. "Come, what haveyou to say?"
But Quadling, with pale, averted face, stood obstinately mute. Hewas in the toils, the net had closed round him, they should haveno assistance from him.
"Come, speak out; it will be best. Remember, we have means to makeyou--"
"Will you interrogate him further, M. Beaumont le Hardi? Here, atonce?"
"No, let him be removed to the Prefecture; it will be moreconvenient; to my private office."
Without more ado a fiacre was called, and the prisoner was takenoff under escort, M. Flocon seated by his side, one policeman infront, another on the box, and lodged in a secret cell at the Quail'Horloge.
"And you, gentlemen?" said the Judge to Sir Charles and ColonelPapillon. "I do not wish to detain you further, although there maybe points you might help us to elucidate if I might venture tostill trespass on your time?"
Sir Charles was eager to return to the Hotel Madagascar, and yethe felt that he should best serve his dear Countess by seeing thisto the end. So he readily assented to accompany the Judge, andColonel Papillon, who was no less curious, agreed to go too.
"I sincerely trust," said the Judge on the way, "that our peoplehave laid hands on that woman Petitpre. I believe that she holdsthe key to the situation, that when we hear her story we shallhave a clear case against Quadling; and--who knows?--she maycompletely exonerate Madame la Comtesse."
During the events just recorded, which occupied a good hour, thepolice agents had time to go and come from the Rue Bellechasse.They did not return empty-handed, although at first it seemed asif they had made a fruitless journey. The Hotel Ivoire was a verysecond-class place, a lodging-house, or hotel with furnished roomslet out by the week to lodgers with whom the proprietor had novery close acquaintance. His clerk did all the business, and thisfunctionary produced the register, as he is bound by law, for theinspection of the police officers, but afforded little informationas to the day's arrivals.
"Yes, a man calling himself Dufour had taken rooms about midday,one for himself, one for madame who was with him, also namedDufour--his sister, he said;" and he went on at the request of thepolice officers to describe them.
"Our birds," said the senior agent, briefly. "They are wanted. Webelong to the detective police."
"All right." Such visits were not new to the clerk.
"But you will not find monsieur; he is out; there hangs his key.Madame? No, she is within. Yes, that is certain, for not longsince she rang her bell. There, it goes again."
He looked up at the furiously oscillating bell, but made no move.
"Bah! they do not pay for service; let her come and say what sheneeds."
"Exactly; and we will bring her," said the officer, making for thestairs and the room indicated.
But on reaching the door, they found it locked. From within?Hardly, for as they stood there in doubt, a voice inside criedvehemently:
"Let me out! Help! Help! Send for the police. I have much to tellthem. Quick! Let me out."
"We are here, my dear, just as you require us. But wait; stepdown, Gaston, and see if the clerk has a second key. If not, callin a locksmith--the nearest. A little patience only, my beauty. Donot fear."
The key was quickly produced, and an entrance effected.
A woman stood there in a defiant attitude, with arms akimbo;she, no doubt, of whom they were in search. A tall, rathermasculine-looking creature, with a dark, handsome face, bold blackeyes just now flashing fiercely, rage in every feature.
"Madame Dufour?" began the police officer.
"Dufour! Rot! My name is Hortense Petitpre; who are you? _LaRousse_?" (Police.)
"At your service. Have you anything to say to us? We have come onpurpose to take you to the Prefecture quietly, if you will let us;or--"
"I will go quietly. I ask nothing better. I have to layinformation against a miscreant--a murderer--the vile assassinwho would have made me his accomplice--the banker, Quadling, ofRome!"
In the fiacre Hortense Petitpre talked on with such incessantabuse, virulent and violent, of Quadling, that her charges wereneither precise nor intelligible.
It was not until she appeared before M. Beaumont le Hardi, and washandled with great dexterity by that practised examiner, that herstory took definite form.
What she had to say will be best told in the clear, formallanguage of the official disposition.
The witness inculpated stated:
"She was named Aglae Hortense Petitpre, thirty-four years of age,a Frenchwoman, born in Paris, Rue de Vincennes No. 374. Wasengaged by the Contessa Castagneto, November 19, 189--, in Rome,as lady's maid, and there, at her mistress's domicile, becameacquainted with the Sieur Francis Quadling, a banker of the ViaCondotti, Rome.
"Quadling had pretensions to the hand of the Countess, and sought,by bribes and entreaties, to interest witness in his suit. Witnessoften spoke of him in complimentary terms to her mistress, who wasnot very favourably disposed towards him.
"One afternoon (two days before the murder) Quadling paid alengthened visit to the Countess. Witness did not hear whatoccurred, but Quadling came out much distressed, and again urgedher to speak to the Countess. He had heard of the approachingdeparture of the lady from Rome, but said nothing of his ownintentions.
"Witness was much surprised to find him in the sleeping-car, buthad no talk to him till the following morning, when he asked herto obtain an interview for him with the Countess, and promised alarge reward. In making this offer he produced a wallet andexhibited a very large number of notes.
"Witness was unable to persuade the Countess, although shereturned to the subject frequently. Witness so informed Quadling,who then spoke to the lady, but was coldly received.
"During the journey witness thought much over the situation.Admitted that the sight of Quadling's money had greatly disturbedher, but, although pressed, would not say when the first idea ofrobbing him took possession of her. (Note by Judge--That she hadresolved to do so is, however, perfectly clear, and the conclusionis borne out by her acts. I
t was she who secured the Countess'smedicine bottle; she, beyond doubt, who drugged the porter atLaroche. In no other way can her presence in the sleeping-carbetween Laroche and Paris be accounted for-presence which she doesnot deny.)
"Witness at last reluctantly confessed that she entered thecompartment where the murder was committed, and at a criticalmoment. An affray was actually in progress between the ItalianRipaldi and the incriminated man Quadling, but the witness arrivedas the last fatal blow was struck by the latter.
"She saw it struck, and saw the victim fall lifeless on the floor.
"Witness declared she was so terrified she could at first utter nocry, nor call for help, and before she could recover herself themurderer threatened her with the ensanguined knife. She threwherself on her knees, imploring pity, but the man