The Passenger from Calais by Arthur Griffiths (i want to read a book .txt) 📗

smile, and I felt encouraged to hazard a few words in reply to her cordial thanks. She responded quickly, readily, and I thought I might improve the occasion by politely inquiring if I could be of any further service to her.

"Perhaps you can tell me, you see I am strange on this line," she answered with a perfectly innocent air, "do you happen to know at what time we are due at Lausanne?"

"Not to the minute," I replied. "I have a railway guide in my bag, shall I fetch it?"

"No, no, I should not like to give you so much trouble."

"But it will be no trouble. Let me fetch my bag."

[97]

I went off in perfect good faith, anxious to oblige so charming a lady. I had not the slightest suspicion that she was playing with me. Silly ass that I was, I failed to detect the warning that dropped from her own lips.

When I got back with the Bradshaw I came upon them for just one moment unawares. The maid must have been making some remarks displeasing to my lady, who was answering her with much asperity.

"I know what I am doing, Philpotts. Be so good as to leave it to me. It is the only way."

Then she caught sight of me as I stood before her, and her manner instantly changed. She addressed me very sweetly and with the utmost composure. "Oh, how very good of you, I feel quite ashamed of myself."

"Why should you? It is delightful to be of use to you. Lausanne I think you said?" I asked casually as I turned over the pages of the guide. "You are going to Lausanne?"

"No, Vevey to Montreux. I only wanted to know whether there would be time for déjeuner at Lausanne. I think there is no dining-car on this train?"

"No, it is on the next, which is extraordinarily [98] bad mismanagement. It is a slow train the next, and we are a special express. But you will have a clear half-hour to spare at Lausanne. That will be enough, I presume? Lausanne at 12 noon, and we go on at half-past."

"You, too, are going beyond Lausanne?"

"Possibly, I am not quite sure. It depends upon my meeting friends somewhere on the lake, either there or further on. If they come on board we shall run on to Brieg so as to drop over the Alps to Lake Maggiore by the Simplon route."

I threw this out carelessly but with deliberate intention, and the shot told. A crimson flush came over her face and her hands trembled violently. I had not the smallest doubt that this was her plan also. She was bound to cross over into Italy, that we knew, or our employers firmly believed it, and as she had been driven off the St. Gothard by Falfani she had now doubled back by Switzerland to make the journey to Brieg and across the mountains by road.

I had scored as I thought, but I forgot that in gaining the knowledge I had betrayed my own intentions, and put her upon her guard. I was to pay for this.

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"Oh, really," she said quietly and with polite interest, having entirely recovered her composure. "I dare say a very pleasant drive. How long does it take, have you any idea, and how do you travel?"

"It is about nine hours by diligence," I said, consulting the Bradshaw, "and the fare is forty francs, but by private carriage or extra post a good deal more."

"May I look?" and I handed her the book, "although I never could understand Bradshaw," she added pleasantly.

"I shall be very pleased to explain if you are in doubt," I suggested; but she declined laughingly, saying it would amuse her to puzzle out things, so I left her the book and composed myself into a corner while the train rattled on. I mused and dozed and dreamily watched her pretty face admiringly, as she pored over the pages of the Guide, little thinking she was perfecting a plan for my undoing.

The first stop was at Biel or Bienne, its French name, and there was a halt of ten minutes or more. I made my way to the telegraph office in the station, where to my great satisfaction I found a message from Falfani, informing me that he should make the best of [100] his way to Brieg, unless I could suggest something better.

The answer I despatched at once to Goeschenen was worded as follows: "Declares she is going to Montreux only. Believe untrue. Still think her destination Brieg. Come on there anyhow and await further from me. May be necessary to join forces." We were in accord, Falfani and I, and in communication.

I was well satisfied with what we were doing, and on receiving the second and third telegrams at Neuchâtel and Yverdun I was all the more pleased. At last we were nearing Lausanne, and I looked across to my lady to prepare her for getting out. I had no need to attract her attention, for I caught her eyes fixed on me and believe she was watching me furtively. The smile that came upon her lips was so pleasant and sweet that it might have overjoyed a more conceited man than myself.

"Are we near then? Delightful! I never was so hungry in my life," and the smile expanded into a gay laugh as she rose to her feet and was ready to leave the carriage.

"I'm afraid you will have to wait, Philpotts, we cannot leave that," she pointed to the child nestling sound asleep by her side. "But I [101] will send or bring you something. This gentleman will perhaps escort me to the refreshment-room."

I agreed, of course, and saying, "Only too charmed," I led the way—a long way, for the restaurant is at the far end of the platform. At last we sat down tête-à-tête and prepared to do full justice to the meal. Strange to say, despite her anticipations, she proved to have very little appetite.

"I must have waited too long," she said, as she trifled with a cutlet. "I shall perhaps like something else better," and she went carefully through the whole menu, so that the time slipped away, and we were within five minutes of departure.

"And poor dear Philpotts, I had quite forgotten her. Come and help me choose," and in duty bound I gallantly carried the food back to the train.

I walked ahead briskly, and making my way to the places where we had left the maid and child, jumped in.

They were gone, the two of them. Everything was gone, rugs, bags, belongings, people. The seats were empty, and as the compartment [102] was quite empty, too, no one could tell me when they had left or where they had gone.

I turned quickly round to my companion, who was, I thought, following close at my heels, and found to my utter amazement that she also had disappeared.

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CHAPTER XI.

For the moment I was dazed and dumfounded, but I took a pull on myself quickly. It was a clever plant. Had they sold me completely? That was still to be seen. My one chance was in prompt action; I must hunt them up, recover trace of them with all possible despatch, follow them, and find them wherever they might be.

There was just the chance that they had only moved into another carriage, thinking that when I missed them I should get out and hunt for them in the station. To counter that I ran up and down the train, in and out of the carriages, questing like a hound, searching everywhere. So eager was I that I neglected the ordinary warnings that the train was about to start; the guard's fertig ("ready"), the sounding horn, the answering engine whistle, I overlooked them all, and we moved on before I could descend. I made as though to jump off hastily, but was prevented.

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"Was ist das? Nein, nein, verboten." A hand caught me roughly by the collar and dragged me back. It was the enemy I had made in championing my lady, the guard of the train, who gladly seized the chance of being disagreeable to me.

I fought hard to be free, but by the time I had shaken him off the speed had so increased that it would have been unsafe to leave the train. I had no choice but to go on, harking back as soon as I could. Fortunately our first stop was within five and twenty minutes, at Vevey; and there in ten minutes more I found a train back to Lausanne, so that I had lost less than an hour and a half in all.

But much may happen in that brief space of time. It was more than enough for my fugitives to clear out of the Lausanne station and make some new move, to hide away in an out-of-the-way spot, go to ground in fact, or travel in another direction.

My first business was to inquire in and about the station for a person or persons answering to the parties I missed. Had they separated, these two women, for good and all? That was most unlikely. If the maid had gone off first, I had to consider whether they would not again [105] join forces as soon as I was well out of the way. They would surely feel safer, happier, together, and this encouraged me to ask first for two people, two females, a lady and her servant, one of them, the latter, carrying a child.

There were many officials about in uniform, and all alike supercilious and indifferent, after the manner of their class, to the travelling public, and I could get none to take the smallest interest in my affairs. One shrugged his shoulders, another stared at me in insolent silence, a third answered me abruptly that he was too occupied to bother himself, and a fourth peremptorily ordered me not to hang any longer about the station.

Foiled thus by the railway staff—and I desire to place on record here my deliberate opinion after many years' experience in many lands, that for rudeness and overbearing manners the Swiss functionary has no equal in the whole world—I went outside the station and sought information among the cabmen and touts who hang about waiting to take up travellers. I accosted all the drivers patiently one by one, but could gather nothing definite from any of them. Most had been on the stand at the arrival of the midday train, many had been [106] engaged to convey passengers and baggage up into the town of Lausanne, and had deposited their fares at various hotels and private residences, but no one had driven any party answering to those of whom I was in search.

This practically decided the point that my lady had not left the station in a carriage or openly, if she had walked. But that she had not been observed did not dispose of the question. They were dull, stupid men, these, only intent on their own business, who would pay little attention to humble persons on foot showing no desire to hire a cab. I would not be baffled thus soon in my quest. A confidential agent who will not take infinite pains in his researches had better seek some other line of business. As I stood there in front of the great station belonging to the Jura-Simplon, I saw facing me a small façade of the Gare Sainte Luce, one of the intermediate stations on the Ficelle or cable railway that connects Ouchy on the lake with Lausanne above.

It was not a hundred yards distant; it could be easily and quickly reached, and without much observation, if a person waited till the immediate neighbourhood had been cleared by the general exodus after the arrival of the chief [107] express of the day. There were any number of trains by this funiculaire—at every half-hour indeed—and any one taking this route could reach either Lausanne or Ouchy after a very few minutes' journey up or down. To extend my investigation on that side was of obvious and pressing importance. I was only too conscious of my great loss of time, now at the outset, which might efface all tracks and cut me off hopelessly from any clue.

I was soon across and inside the Sainte Luce station, but still undecided which direction I should choose, when the little car arrived going upward, and I ran over to that platform and jumped in. I must begin one way or the other, and I proceeded at once to question the conductor, when he