"Well, well! Tell me about her," he said, with a resignation he
did not feel. "Who saw her?"

"I, monsieur. I spoke to her myself. She was on the outside of the
station, alone, unprotected, in a state of agitation and alarm. I
went up and offered my services. Then she told me she had come
from Dijon, that friends who were to have met her had not
appeared. I suggested that I should put her into a cab and send
her to her destination. But she was afraid of losing her friends,
and preferred to wait."

"A fine story! Did she appear to know what had happened? Had she
heard of the murder?"

"Something, monsieur."

"Who could have told her? Did you?"

"No, not I. But she knew."

"Was not that in itself suspicious? The fact has not yet been made
public."

"It was in the air, monsieur. There was a general impression that
something had happened. That was to be seen on every face, in the
whispered talk, the movement to and fro of the police and the
guards."

"Did she speak of it, or refer to it?"