From a neighbouring way-station the railway officials had telephoned news of the accident. The section of line was kept clear by telegraph. Word came that a relief train was being made up, and would arrive in an hour.
Fandor had quickly regained his coolness, and was one of the first to lend a hand in the rescue, turning over the wreckage and setting free the injured.
As he passed along the track, he was attracted by the appeals of a stout man, who hurried toward him, wailing:
"Sir! Sir! What a terrible calamity!"
Fandor recognised his fellow-passenger, Josephine's lover.
"Yes, and we had a lucky escape. But what has become of your wife?"
In using the word "wife" Fandor was under no illusion; he merely wanted to interview the other.
"My wife? Ah, sir, that's the terrible part of it. She's not my wife—she's a little friend, and now it's all bound to come out. My lawful wife will hear everything. As for the girl, I don't know what has become of her."
"She knew that you were carrying money?"
"Yes, sir. I am an agent for wines at Bercy, and I was going to pay over dividends to stock-holders, one hundred and fifty thousand francs. I recognised one of my men among the robbers, a cooper. He knew that every month I travel, carrying large sums of money. I am quite sure this robbery was planned beforehand."