“No; she kept very much to herself,” he said. “I saw her but little, hardly at all, except at Modane. She kept her own berth.”
“Where she received her own friends?”
“Oh, beyond doubt. The Englishmen both visited her there, but not the Italian.”
“The Italian? Are we to infer that she knew the Italian?”
“That is what I wish to convey. Not on the journey, though. Between Rome and Paris she did not seem to know him. It was afterwards; this morning, in fact, that I came to the conclusion that there was some secret understanding between them.”
“Why do you say that, M. Devaux?” cried the detective, excitedly. “Let me urge you and implore you to speak out, and fully. This is of the utmost, of the very first, importance.”
“Well, gentlemen, I will tell you. As you are well aware, on arrival at this station we were all ordered to leave the car, and marched to the waiting-room, out there. As a matter of course, the lady entered first, and she was seated when I went in. There was a strong light on her face.”
“Was her veil down?”
“Not then. I saw her lower it later, and, as I think, for reasons I will presently put before you. Madame has a beautiful face, and I gazed at it with sympathy, grieving for her, in fact, in such a trying situation; when suddenly I saw a great and remarkable change come over it.”
“Of what character?”