The agent bowed, and left the room. A moment after the door opened again, and the valet’s resolute, intelligent face appeared. He already sympathized with the clerk, who gave him a friendly nod. The magistrate said, in sulky tones—
“Take a seat, M. Baudoin. I have disturbed you once more, with the object of explaining certain details which I find incomprehensible.”
“Do not apologize, sir; it is no disturbance if it is for anything concerning the General. Ah! I should only be too happy if I could give you any efficient help in your task!”
How could this servant throw light on a mystery which he, Mayeur, could not succeed in unravelling? Well, it could not be helped. The clerk seemed overjoyed at his master’s humiliation. He had been worrying him long enough with his lack of capacity. A striking failure would make him less self-confident, and he would be a little more indulgent towards his subordinate, whom he always appeared to look upon as an imbecile. Fume away, my good master! That will not help you much. And the clerk gave another mighty yawn.
“This woman you saw leave the carriage at the door of the house—was she tall or short?”
“Rather tall. But as she was wrapped in a large mantle I could not say precisely. By the way in which she descended from the carriage, I should imagine she was rather slender in build.”
“And her companion?”
“Oh! her companion; I saw him distinctly. He was a strong man, with a thick beard, light-complexioned, and brutal in appearance. He wore a grey felt hat and a dark suit. His accent was foreign, and—”
“Do you think it is the man your master called Hans?” asked the magistrate.
“It could be no one else. The General received no one, except his friends, Messieurs Baradier and Graff. The people who came on different occasions at night to the villa must have been regular villains for him not to permit me to stay with him.”