“Because”—it was the Judge who spoke, but he paused a moment in deference to a gesture of protest from M. Floçon. The little detective was much concerned at the utter want of reticence displayed by his colleague.
“Because,” went on the Judge with decision—“because this was found in the compartment;” and he held out the piece of lace and the scrap of beading for the General’s inspection, adding quickly, “You have seen these, or one of them, or something like them before. I am sure of it; I call upon you; I demand—no, I appeal to your sense of honour, Sir Collingham. Tell me, please, exactly what you know.”
CHAPTER X
The General sat for a time staring hard at the bit of torn lace and the broken beads. Then he spoke out firmly:
“It is my duty to withhold nothing. It is not the lace. That I could not swear to; for me—and probably for most men—two pieces of lace are very much the same. But I think I have seen these beads, or something exactly like them, before.”
“Where? When?”
“They formed part of the trimming of a mantle worn by the Contessa di Castagneto.”
“Ah!” it was the same interjection uttered simultaneously by the three Frenchmen, but each had a very different note; in the Judge it was deep interest, in the detective triumph, in the Commissary indignation, as when he caught a criminal red-handed.
“Did she wear it on the journey?” continued the Judge.
“As to that I cannot say.”