“It is the maid herself!” cried the little Chief, springing up and slapping his thigh in exuberant glee. “The maid! the missing maid!”
CHAPTER XIV
The joy of the Chief of Detectives at having thus come, as he supposed, upon the track of the missing maid, Hortense Petitpré, was somewhat dashed by the doubts freely expressed by the Judge as to the result of any search. Since Block’s return, M. Beaumont le Hardi had developed strong symptoms of discontent and disapproval at his colleague’s proceedings.
“But if it was this Hortense Petitpré how did she get there, by the bridge Henri Quatre, when we thought to find her somewhere down the line? It cannot be the same woman.”
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” interposed Block. “May I say one word? I believe I can supply some interesting information about Hortense Petitpré. I understand that some one like her was seen here in the station not more than an hour ago.”
“Peste! Why were we not told this sooner?” cried the Chief, impetuously.
“Who saw her? Did he speak to her? Call him in; let us see how much he knows.”
The man was summoned, one of the subordinate railway officials, who made a specific report.
Yes, he had seen a tall, slight, neat-looking woman, dressed entirely in black, who, according to her account, had arrived at 10.30 by the slow local train from Dijon.
“Fichtre!” said the Chief, angrily; “and this is the first we have heard of it.”