“Well, that will be something, yet not much. Yes, she is only one, and not to my mind the most criminal. We do not know as yet the exact responsibility of each, the exact measure of their guilt; but I do not myself believe that the Countess was a prime mover, or, indeed, more than an accessory. She was drawn into it, perhaps involved, how or why we cannot know, but possibly by fortuitous circumstances that put an unavoidable pressure upon her; a consenting party, but under protest. That is my view of the lady.”
M. Floçon shook his head. Prepossessions with him were tenacious, and he had made up his mind about the Countess’s guilt.
“When you again interrogate her, M. le Juge, by the light of your present knowledge, I believe you will think otherwise. She will confess,—you will make her, your skill is unrivalled,—and you will then admit, M. le Juge, that I was right in my suspicions.”
“Ah, well, produce her! We shall see,” said the Judge, somewhat mollified by M. Floçon’s fulsome flattery.
“I will bring her to your chamber of instruction within an hour, M. le Juge,” said the detective, very confidently.
But he was doomed to disappointment in this as he was in other respects.
CHAPTER XV
Let us go back a little in point of time, and follow the movements of Sir Charles Collingham.
It was barely 11 A.M. when he left the Lyons Station with his brother, the Reverend Silas, and the military attaché, Colonel Papillon. They paused for a moment outside the station while the baggage was being got together.
“See, Silas,” said the General, pointing to the clock, “you will have plenty of time for the 11.50 train to Calais for London, but you must hurry up and drive straight across Paris to the Nord. I suppose he can go, Jack?”