“Detained by unfortunate contretemps at Lausanne, happily surmounted, clue lost and regained. Desire your coöperation. Come instantly, Hôtel 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 Hôtel Pierre Fatio. Mrs. Blair was paying a very long call, and I could not understand it. All the time I was haunted with a vague and ever present idea that she meant to sell me. The more I tortured my brain to consider how, the less I was able to fathom her intentions.
The time ran on, and I thought it would be prudent to return to my own hotel. Mrs. Blair might have given us the slip, might have left by some other issue, and I felt that my place was at the Cornavin, where at least I knew she was staying. Falloon should stand his ground where he was, but I fully impressed upon him the importance of the duty entrusted to him.
I blessed my stars that I so decided. Mrs. Blair had not returned when the table d'hôte bell rang at the Cornavin, but I had hardly swallowed the first spoonful of soup when Falloon appeared, hot and flurried, with very startling news.
"Elle se sauve. She is saving herself; she is running away," he cried. "Already her carriage enters the station—without doubt she seeks the train for somewhere."
I jumped up, rushed from the room, caught up my hat, and hurried across the Square of Place Cornavin into the station. It was a clear case of bolt. There she was ahead of me, quite unmistakable, walking quickly, with her fine upright figure clad in the same pearl gray ulster she had worn in the tram-car. She passed through the open doors of the waiting-room on to the platform where the train was waiting with engine attached.
"The 7.35 for Culoz and beyond by Amberieu to Paris," I was informed on inquiry.
"A double back," I concluded on the spot. She had had enough of it, and was going home again. In another minute or two she would have eluded me once more.