United States or Vatican City ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Let him go, and send some one with him," said the Commissary, the first practical suggestion he had yet made. "Excellent!" cried the Judge. "You have another man here, Chief; let him go with this Italian." They called in Ripaldi and told him, "We will accept your services, monsieur, and you can begin your search at once. In what direction do you propose to begin?" "Where has her mistress gone?"
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.
It was after the murder, too, that he conceived the idea of personating Ripaldi, and, having disfigured him beyond recognition, as he hoped, he had changed clothes and compartments. On the strength of this confession Quadling escaped the guillotine, but he was transported to New Caledonia for life.
That is how I read it, and I believe that now these gentlemen are disposed to agree with me." "In theory, certainly," said the Judge, heartily. "But oh! for some more positive proof of this change of character! If we could only identify the corpse, prove clearly that it is not Quadling. And still more, if we had not let this so-called Ripaldi slip through our fingers!
There was a pause, a long pause, for another important point had been reached in the inquiry: the motive for the murder had been made clear, and with it the presumption against the Countess gained terrible strength. But there was more, perhaps, to be got out of this dark-visaged Italian detective, who had already proved so useful an ally. "One or two words more," said the Judge to Ripaldi.
"Witness at last reluctantly confessed that she entered the compartment where the murder was committed, and at a critical moment. An affray was actually in progress between the Italian Ripaldi and the incriminated man Quadling, but the witness arrived as the last fatal blow was struck by the latter. "She saw it struck, and saw the victim fall lifeless on the floor.
"I am dimly conscious of the fact, and yet I cannot say when or where." "It is the property of one of your fellow travellers an Italian called Ripaldi." "Ripaldi?" said the General, remembering with some uneasiness that he had seen the name at the bottom of the Countess's telegram. "Ah! now I understand." "You had heard of it, then?
Consulting the Judge, and laying these facts before him, it was agreed that the Italian's offer seemed the most important, and he was accordingly called in next. "Who and what are you?" asked the Judge, carelessly, but the answer roused him at once to intense interest, and he could not quite resist a glance of reproach at M. Floçon. "My name I have given you Natale Ripaldi.
But that telegram, signed Ripaldi, the introduction of the maid's name, and the suggestion that she was troublesome, the threat that if the Countess did not go, they would come to her, and her marked uneasiness thereat all this implied plainly the existence of collusion, of some secret relations, some secret understanding between her and the others.
The request was not unnecessary, for when Colonel Papillon went forward, and, putting his hand on a man's shoulder, saying, "Mr. Quadling, I think," the police officer was scarcely able to restrain his surprise. The person thus challenged was very unlike any one he had seen before that day, Ripaldi most of all.
Word Of The Day