He read it, but did not understand it in the least. It ran: "I must see you immediately, and beg you will come. You will find Hortense here. She is giving trouble. You only can deal with her. Do not delay. Come at once, or we must go to you.-Ripaldi, Hotel Ivoire, Rue Bellechasse."
"What does this mean? Who sends it? Who is Ripaldi?" asked Sir Charles, rather brusquely.
"He-he-oh, Charles, I shall have to go. Anything would be better than his coming here."
"Ripaldi? Haven't I heard the name? He was one of those in the sleeping-car, I think? The Chief of the Detective Police called it out once or twice. Am I not right? Please tell me-am I not right?"
"Yes, yes; this man was there with the rest of us. A dark man, who sat near the door-"
"Ah, to be sure. But what-what in Heaven's name has he to do with you? How does he dare to send you such an impudent message as this? Surely, Sabine, you will tell me? You will admit that I have a right to ask?"
"Yes, of course. I will tell you, Charles, everything; but not here-not now. It must be on the way. I have been very wrong, very foolish-but oh, come, come, do let us be going. I am so afraid he might-"
"Then I may go with you? You do not object to that?"
"I much prefer it-much. Do let us make haste!"
She snatched up her sealskin jacket, and held it to him prettily, that he might help her into it, which he did neatly and cleverly, smoothing her great puffed-out sleeves under each shoulder of the coat, still talking eagerly and taking no toll for his trouble as she stood patiently, passively before him.
"And this Hortense? It is your maid, is it not-the woman who had taken herself off? How comes it that she is with that Italian fellow? Upon my soul, I don't understand-not a little bit."
"I cannot explain that, either. It is most strange, most incomprehensible, but we shall soon know. Please, Charles, please do not get impatient."
They passed together down into the hotel courtyard and across it, under the archway which led past the clerk's desk into the street.
On seeing them, he came out hastily and placed himself in front, quite plainly barring their egress.
"Oh, madame, one moment," he said in a tone that was by no means conciliatory. "The manager wants to speak to you; he told me to tell you, and stop you if you went out."
"The manager can speak to madame when she returns," interposed the General angrily, answering for the Countess.
"I have had my orders, and I cannot allow her-"
"Stand aside, you scoundrel!" cried the General, blazing up; "or upon my soul I shall give you such a lesson you will be sorry you were ever born."
At this moment the manager himself appeared in reinforcement, and the clerk turned to him for protection and support.
"I was merely giving madame your message, M. Auguste, when this gentleman interposed, threatened me, maltreated me-"
"Oh, surely not; it is some mistake;" the manager spoke most suavely. "But certainly I did wish to speak to madame. I wished to ask her whether she was satisfied with her apartment. I find that the rooms she has generally occupied have fallen vacant, in the nick of time. Perhaps madame would like to look at them, and move?"
"Thank you, M. Auguste, you are very good; but at another time. I am very much pressed just now. When I return in an hour or two, not now."
The manager was profuse in his apologies, and made no further difficulty.
"Oh, as you please, madame. Perfectly. By and by, later, when you choose."
The fact was, the desired result had been obtained. For now, on the far side from where he had been watching, Galipaud appeared, no doubt in reply to some secret signal, and the detective with a short nod in acknowledgment had evidently removed his embargo.
A cab was called, and Sir Charles, having put the Countess in, was turning to give the driver his instructions, when a fresh complication arose.
Some one coming round the corner had caught a glimpse of the lady disappearing into the fiacre, and cried out from afar.
"Stay! Stop! I want to speak to that lady; detain her." It was the sharp voice of little M. Flocon, whom most of those present, certainly the Countess and Sir Charles, immediately recognised.
"No, no, no-don't let them keep me-I cannot wait now," she whispered in earnest, urgent appeal. It was not lost on her loyal and devoted friend.
"Go on!" he shouted to the cabman, with all the peremptory insistence of one trained to give words of command. "Forward! As fast as you can drive. I'll pay you double fare. Tell him where to go, Sabine. I'll follow-in less than no time."
The fiacre rattled off at top speed, and the General turned to confront M. Flocon.
The little detective was white to the lips with rage and disappointment; but he also was a man of promptitude, and before falling foul of this pestilent Englishman, who had again marred his plans, he shouted to Galipaud-"Quick! After them! Follow her wherever she goes. Take this,"-he thrust a paper into his subordinate's hand. "It is a warrant for her arrest. Seize her wherever you find her, and bring her to the Quai l'Horloge," the euphemistic title of the headquarters of the French police.
The pursuit was started at once, and then the Chief turned upon Sir Charles. "Now it is between us," he said, fiercely. "You must account to me for what you have done."
"Must I?" answered the General, mockingly and with a little laugh. "It is perfectly easy. Madame was in a hurry, so I helped her to get away. That was all."
"You have traversed and opposed the action of the law. You have impeded me, the Chief of the Detective Service, in the execution of my duty. It is not the first time, but now you must answer for it."
"Dear me!" said the General in the same flippant, irritating tone.
"You will have to accompany me now to the Prefecture."
"And if it does not suit me to go?"
"I will have you carried there, bound, tied hand and foot, by the police, like any common rapscallion taken in the act who resists the authority of an officer."
"Oho, you talk very big, sir. Perhaps you will be so obliging as to tell me what I have done."
"You have connived at the escape of a criminal from justice-"
"That lady? Psha!"
"She is charged with a heinous crime-that in which you yourself were implicated-the murder of that man on the train."
"Bah! You must be a stupid goose, to hint at such a thing! A lady of birth, breeding, the highest respectability-impossible!"
"All that has not prevented her from allying herself with base, common wretches. I do not say she struck the blow, but I believe she inspired, concerted, approved it, leaving her confederates to do the actual deed."
"Confederates?"
"The man Ripaldi, your Italian fellow traveller; her maid, Hortense Petitpre, who was missing this morning."
The General was fairly staggered at this unexpected blow. Half an hour ago he would have scouted the very thought, indignantly repelled the spoken words that even hinted a suspicion of Sabine Castagneto. But that telegram, signed Ripaldi, the introduction of the maid's name, and the suggestion that she was troublesome, the threat that if the Countess did not go, they would come to her, and her marked uneasiness thereat-all this implied plainly the existence of collusion, of some secret relations, some secret understanding between her and the others.
He could not entirely conceal the trouble that now overcame him; it certainly did not escape so shrewd an observer as M. Flocon, who promptly tried to turn it to good account.
"Come, M. le General," he said, with much assumed bonhomie. "I can see how it is with you, and you have my sincere sympathy. We are all of us liable to be carried away, and there is much excuse for you in this. But now-believe me, I am justified in saying it-now I tell you that our case is strong against her, that it is not mere speculation, but supported by facts. Now surely you will come over to our side?"