The Rome Express | Page 3

had no great effect upon him, for, while the rest of the party were very plainly sad, and a prey to lively apprehension, the porter sat dull and unmoved, with the stolid, sluggish, unconcerned aspect of a man just roused from sound sleep and relapsing into slumber, who takes little notice of what is passing around.
Meanwhile, the sleeping-car, with its contents, especially the corpse of the victim, was shunted into a siding, and sentries were placed on it at both ends. Seals had been affixed upon the entrance doors, so that the interior might be kept inviolate until it could be visited and examined by the Chef de la S?reté, or Chief of the Detective Service. Every one and everything awaited the arrival of this all-important functionary.
CHAPTER II
M. Flo?on, the Chief, was an early man, and he paid a first visit to his office about 7 A.M.
He lived just round the corner in the Rue des Arcs, and had not far to go to the Prefecture. But even now, soon after daylight, he was correctly dressed, as became a responsible ministerial officer. He wore a tight frock coat and an immaculate white tie; under his arm he carried the regulation portfolio, or lawyer's bag, stuffed full of reports, dispositions, and documents dealing with cases in hand. He was altogether a very precise and natty little personage, quiet and unpretending in demeanour, with a mild, thoughtful face in which two small ferrety eyes blinked and twinkled behind gold-rimmed glasses. But when things went wrong, when he had to deal with fools, or when scent was keen, or the enemy near, he would become as fierce and eager as any terrier.
He had just taken his place at his table and begun to arrange his papers, which, being a man of method, he kept carefully sorted by lots each in an old copy of the Figaro, when he was called to the telephone. His services were greatly needed, as we know, at the Lyons station and the summons was to the following effect:
"Crime on train No. 45. A man murdered in the sleeper. All the passengers held. Please come at once. Most important."
A fiacre was called instantly, and M. Flo?on, accompanied by Galipaud and Block, the two first inspectors for duty, was driven with all possible speed across Paris.
He was met outside the station, just under the wide verandah, by the officials, who gave him a brief outline of the facts, so far as they were known, and as they have already been put before the reader.
"The passengers have been detained?" asked M. Flo?on at once.
"Those in the sleeping-car only--"
"Tut, tut! they should have been all kept--at least until you had taken their names and addresses. Who knows what they might not have been able to tell?"
It was suggested that as the crime was committed presumably while the train was in motion, only those in the one car could be implicated.
"We should never jump to conclusions," said the Chief snappishly. "Well, show me the train card--the list of the travellers in the sleeper."
"It cannot be found, sir."
"Impossible! Why, it is the porter's business to deliver it at the end of the journey to his superiors, and under the law--to us. Where is the porter? In custody?"
"Surely, sir, but there is something wrong with him."
"So I should think! Nothing of this kind could well occur without his knowledge. If he was doing his duty--unless, of course, he--but let us avoid hasty conjectures."
"He has also lost the passengers' tickets, which you know he retains till the end of the journey. After the catastrophe, however, he was unable to lay his hand upon his pocket-book. It contained all his papers."
"Worse and worse. There is something behind all this. Take me to him. Stay, can I have a private room close to the other--where the prisoners, those held on suspicion, are? It will be necessary to hold investigations, take their depositions. M. le Juge will be here directly."
M. Flo?on was soon installed in a room actually communicating with the waiting-room, and as a preliminary of the first importance, taking precedence even of the examination of the sleeping-car, he ordered the porter to be brought in to answer certain questions.
The man, Ludwig Groote, as he presently gave his name, thirty-two years of age, born at Amsterdam, looked such a sluggish, slouching, blear-eyed creature that M. Flo?on began by a sharp rebuke.
"Now. Sharp! Are you always like this?" cried the Chief.
The porter still stared straight before him with lack-lustre eyes, and made no immediate reply.
"Are you drunk? are you--Can it be possible?" he said, and in vague reply to a sudden strong suspicion, he went on:
"What were you doing between Laroche and Paris? Sleeping?"
The man roused himself a little. "I think I slept. I must have slept. I was