M. Floçon was so anxious to approach the inquiry without prejudice that
he put up his hand.

"We will wait, if you please. When M. le Juge arrives, then, perhaps;
at any rate, at a later stage. That will do now, thank you."

The Italian's lip curled with a slight indication of contempt at the
French detective's methods, but he bowed without speaking, and went out.

Last of all the lady appeared, in a long sealskin travelling cloak, and
closely veiled. She answered M. Floçon's questions in a low, tremulous
voice, as though greatly perturbed.

She was the Contessa di Castagneto, she said, an Englishwoman by birth;
but her husband had been an Italian, as the name implied, and they
resided in Rome. He was dead--she had been a widow for two or three
years, and was on her way now to London.

"That will do, madame, thank you," said the detective, politely, "for
the present at least."

"Why, are we likely to be detained? I trust not." Her voice became
appealing, almost piteous. Her hands, restlessly moving, showed how much
she was distressed.

"Indeed, Madame la Comtesse, it must be so. I regret it infinitely; but
until we have gone further into this, have elicited some facts, arrived
at some conclusions--But there, madame, I need not, must not say more."