“Quite so,” M. Floçon readily admitted, with a scarcely concealed sneer.
He had quite made up his mind now that it was the Countess who had rung the alarm-bell, in order to allow of the escape of the maid, her confederate and accomplice.
“And you still have an impression that some one—presumably this woman—got off the car, somehow, during the stoppage?” he asked.
“I suggest it, certainly. Whether it was or could be so, I must leave to your superior judgment.”
“What! A woman climb out like that? Bah! Tell that to some one else!”
“You have, of course, examined the exterior of the car, dear colleague?” now said the Judge.
“Assuredly, once, but I will do it again. Still, the outside is quite smooth, there is no foot-board. Only an acrobat could succeed in thus escaping, and then only at the peril of his life. But a woman—oh, no! it is too absurd.”
“With help she might, I think, get up on to the roof,” quickly remarked Sir Charles. “I have looked out of the window of my compartment. It would be nothing for a man, nor much for a woman if assisted.”
“That we will see for ourselves,” said the detective, ungraciously.
“The sooner the better,” added the Judge, and the whole party rose from their chairs, intending to go straight to the car, when the policeman on guard appeared at the door, followed close by an English military officer in uniform, whom he was trying to keep back, but with no great success. It was Colonel Papillon of the Embassy.