"Now, if you please, I have with me but two small satchels. If the porter will bring them I will unlock them for you. I have no trunk, as I only went to Boston for a day's trip."
The satchels were brought, examined, and nothing found.
"Now, gentlemen, I suppose I am free, as we are at my station. I shall only remain here a few hours and will then go on to New York. If you should wish to see me again I shall stop at the Hoffman House. Here is my card. Au revoir."
Mr. Barnes took the card and scrutinized it.
"What do you think?" asked the conductor.
"Think? Oh, you mean of that fellow. You need not worry about him. There is not a shadow of suspicion against him—at present. Besides, should we ever want him, I could find him again. Here is his name—Alphonse Thauret—card genuine too, of French make and style of type. We can dismiss him now and turn our attention to the other passengers. Do you suppose I could have an interview with the woman?"
"You shall have it if you wish. We will not consult her wishes in the matter. The affair is too serious."
"Very well then send her in here and let me have a few words with her alone. Don't tell her that I am a detective. Leave that to me."
A few minutes later a tall woman apparently about forty-five years of age entered. She was not handsome yet had a pleasing face. As she seated herself she looked keenly at Mr. Barnes in a stealthy manner which should have attracted that gentleman's earnest thought. Apparently he did not notice it. The woman spoke first.
"The conductor has sent me in here to see you. What have you to do with the case?"