“Pray take no trouble in the matter. I certainly should not keep her.”
“Very well, very well. And now, another small matter. I see,” he referred to the rough plan of the sleeping-car prepared by M. Floçon,—“I see that you occupied the compartment d, with berths Nos. 9 and 10?”
“I think 9 was the number of my berth.”
“It was. You may be certain of that. Now next door to your compartment—do you know who was next door? I mean in 7 and 8?”
The Countess’s lip quivered, and she was a prey to sudden emotion as she answered in a low voice:
“It was where—where—”
“There, there, madame,” said the Judge, reassuring her as he would a little child. “You need not say. It is no doubt very distressing to you. Yet, you know?”
She bent her head slowly, but uttered no word.
“Now this man, this poor man, had you noticed him at all? No—no—not afterwards, of course. It would not be likely. But during the journey. Did you speak to him, or he to you?”
“No, no—distinctly no.”