"Hardly that, Monsieur le General. But it shall be as you wish. We will
telephone from here to the post nearest the Embassy to inform his
Excellency--"

"Certainly, Lord Dufferin, and my friend, Colonel Papillon."

"Of what has occurred. And now, if you will permit me to proceed?"

So the single occupant of the compartment _b_, that adjoining the
Englishmen, was called in. He was an Italian, by name Natale Ripaldi; a
dark-skinned man, with very black hair and a bristling black moustache.
He wore a long dark cloak of the Inverness order, and, with the slouch
hat he carried in his hand, and his downcast, secretive look, he had the
rather conventional aspect of a conspirator.

"If monsieur permits," he volunteered to say after the formal
questioning was over, "I can throw some light on this catastrophe."

"And how so, pray? Did you assist? Were you present? If so, why wait to
speak till now?" said the detective, receiving the advance rather
coldly. It behooved him to be very much on his guard.

"I have had no opportunity till now of addressing any one in authority.
You are in authority, I presume?"

"I am the Chief of the Detective Service."

"Then, monsieur, remember, please, that I can give some useful
information when called upon. Now, indeed, if you will receive it."