I can afford to put in
ten pounds on Casimir to loosen his lying tongue. In vino veritas
may apply even to a gallant and distinguished Pole. If I can get the
true story of Alixe Delavigne's life, then I have the key of the
Johnstone mystery. Ah! There is now a duty signal for me!" The
Major smartly approached the main entrance of that cosiest of Swiss
family hotels, the Faucon, as the anxious face of a woman nurse
appeared. "Madame veut bien voir Monsieur!" simply announced the
servant. Major Hawke brushed by her with a nod and quickly mounted
the stair. To his utter surprise, on entering Madame Berthe
Louison's apartment, the signs of an approaching departure were
but too evident. A stout Swiss maiden was busied stolidly packing
several trunks in an indiscriminate haste, while the fair invalid
herself sat at the center table poring over an opened Baedeker
and the outspread maps brought on by her "business agent." Hawke's
murmured astonishment was at once cut short by the decisive notes
of Berthe Louison's flutelike voice.
"We have no time to waste, Major!" she said, with an affected
cheerfulness. "I am all right now. There is an eleven-thirty train
for Constance. I will take that, reach Munich, and get right over
to Venice by the Brenner Pass, and thence go down to Aricona, and
Brindisi. You can return to Geneva, and, by Mont Cenis and Turin
you will reach Brindisi before me.
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