Only the two Frenchmen remained for examination. They had been left to the last by pure accident. The exigencies of the inquiry had led to the preference of others, but these two well-broken and submissive gentlemen made no visible protest. However much they may have chafed inwardly at the delay, they knew better than to object; any outburst of discontent would, they knew, recoil on themselves. Not only were they perfectly patient now when summoned before the officers of justice, they were most eager to give every assistance to the law, to go beyond the mere letter, and, if needs be, volunteer information.
The first called in was the elder, M. Anatole Lafolay, a true Parisian bourgeois, fat and comfortable, unctuous in speech, and exceedingly deferential.
The story he told was in its main outlines that which we already know, but he was further questioned, by the light of the latest facts and ideas as now elicited.
The line adroitly taken by the Judge was to get some evidence of collusion and combination among the passengers, especially with reference to two of them, the two women of the party. On this important point M. Lafolay had something to say.
Asked if he had seen or noticed the lady’s maid on the journey, he answered “yes” very decisively and with a smack of the lips, as though the sight of this pretty and attractive person had given him considerable satisfaction.
“Did you speak to her?”
“Oh, no. I had no opportunity. Besides, she had her own friends—great friends, I fancy. I caught her more than once whispering in the corner of the car with one of them.”
“And that was—?”
“I think the Italian gentleman; I am almost sure I recognized his clothes. I did not see his face, it was turned from me—towards hers, and very close, I may be permitted to say.”
“And they were friendly?”