thefrontier they would have to drive madly.
The beetle-browed chauffeur of Orvieto drove as he had never drivenbefore, though Italians are noteworthy as dare-devil drivers. Theypassed through Pitigliano--where the cyclist had met the fugitive--andon again into the wild, dark mountains to Manciano, a remote place inthe midst of high, barren precipices. Then, after a steep descent, theyat last, after nearly two and a half hours, met a drover who confirmedthe cyclist, and said that a motor without lights had gone past longago, after nearly running him down.
The chase was, indeed, exciting.
The Englishman and his companion sat in the car full of eager anxiety.Once Flobecq gained the train at its stopping-place, Orbetello--thatquaint old town on the Mediterranean shore--then he would escape, aswithout a warrant he could not be detained.
So they urged on the chauffeur, who now drove with all the nerve anddaring he possessed. The night became thick and black with those dark,low clouds which in spring in Italy are so frequent, and herald athunderstorm.
The storm came at last, just about eleven. The lightning flashed andthe thunder rolled, echoing and reverberating along the valley where theroad ran beside the rushing torrent on its way to the sea.
Then, after four hours of the most exciting drive that either man hadexperienced, they came to the junction of the Albegna River, and thenout upon a broad road across a plain, straight toward the open sea.
After a further eighteen miles or so, a red light showed suddenly--thelight of a level railway crossing. They had at last gained the mainline which runs by the Maremme from Rome to Pisa--the main line to Genoaand Turin.
Passing the crossing, the gates closed behind them with a clang almostimmediately, and then, the road ran parallel with the railway for manymiles towards ancient Orbetello with its ponderous walls and the sea.
Hubert bent, and striking a match with difficulty, looked at his watch.It wanted eighteen minutes to midnight.
He and his companion had on the way calculated that if they lost no timethey could reach Orbetello, which was one of the stopping-places of thenight express from Rome for Paris, just before the train was due toarrive.
Twice after leaving the mountains they had news of the car they werechasing, once from a shepherd and again from two mounted carabinieri.If they could reach Orbetello they might prevent Flobecq from leaving.
"We must not yet demand his arrest," the Englishman said to the man athis side. "If we did then it would result in just the thing we areendeavouring to avoid--exposure!"
"No, signore. We must catch him up and keep in touch with him until youdecide what action to take in Her Highness's interests."
The chauffeur, urged on by Hubert, drove with reckless speed, with therailway line always on their left, and now and then passing red andgreen, signals, and the small, lonely houses of the watchmen of theline.
Already in the far distance could be seen the lights of the little townout at the end of a promontory at the foot of the high, dark MonteArgentario, rising straight from the sea, a corner of Italy which no oneever visits, though it is on the direct sea road to Rome.
"At last!" cried Waldron excitedly, pointing out the lights.
"Yes, signore, that is Orbetello!" declared Pucci. "But see," he addedquickly. "See that single light on the left yonder! Is it not moving--coming towards us?"
Hubert strained his eyes in the direction which the detective pointed.
"By gad! yes. Why--why it's a train. And it is coming towards us!" hegasped.
At that moment they passed a signal which fell, showing the line to beclear.
Both men sat silent, watching the rather dim but fast-approaching light.
Yes, assuredly it was a train which had stopped at Orbetello and was nowon its way towards the north!
On it came swiftly, with a red glare showing from the furnace, untilsuddenly, with a bursting roar, it thundered past.
Hubert saw the two long sleeping-cars with their blinds closely drawn.
"It's the express!" he cried, dismayed. "The Paris express! The spyhas caught it--and escaped!"
Pucci said nothing. He sat silent, turning to watch the red tail-lampsas the express bore on its way and out of sight.
And until the car reached the railway station at Orbetello, theft darkand deserted, with lights turned down, no further word was uttered byeither man.
Of a sleepy porter Hubert, as he dashed out of the car, made quickinquiry.
"_Si, signore_," replied the man. "An open car drove up a few momentsbefore the express came in, and a signore got out and bought a ticketfor Turin, and left by the train. The car went away at once, away inthe direction of Montalto and Rome."
Hubert described the man Flobecq, and according to the porter thedescription fitted exactly.
After that the two men returned to the car and held consultation.
"The train is due in Turin about eleven to-morrow morning. We cannotreach there before three in the afternoon."
"If the individual is making for France he will proceed ateleven-thirty, and be across the frontier before we can reach Turin,"Pucci remarked thoughtfully.
"Exactly. Our only plan is to have him met at Turin and followed, and areport sent to us at Turin as soon as he arrives at his destination. Hemay go on to Milan, and thence to Trieste and Vienna--who knows? Wemust therefore telephone to the Questore in Turin to send down a sharpdetective to pick him up and travel with him. You, Pucci, must use yourauthority as brigadier of detective police and make the request to theQuestore."
At once the detective called the porter and sent him for thestationmaster who, as soon as he ascertained the detective's position,opened the office and upon the telephone called up the central policebureau at Turin.
For fully half an hour there was no reply.
At last a voice responded, whereupon the detective at the instrumentexplained that he was Brigadier Pucci of the _brigade mobile_ of Rome,that he was following a dangerous person named Flobecq, _alias_ Pujalet,who was in the Paris express due at Turin at eleven next morning.
Then he made an urgent request that he should be met, and followedabroad if he attempted to leave Italy. Again there was a silence forten minutes, while the request was placed before the detectivesuperintendent on duty.
At last came the request for the description of the fugitive, and thisPucci gave slowly, with professional exactness, so that it could betaken down.
"He is a very clever and elusive person, and no doubt suspects he may befollowed," Pucci added. "Therefore the greatest caution is necessarynot to let him discover that observation is being kept. I am atOrbetello, and am coming on to Turin by the next train to reportpersonally to the Questore."
The voice in return assured the detective that the fugitive would be metand watched by one of the shrewdest officers available.
"_Benissimo_! I shall arrive about three. Please tell the Questorethat the matter is a strictly confidential one--a private inquiryinstituted by the direction of His Majesty the King."
"Your message shall be sent to the Questore to his home at once," thevoice replied, and their communication was interrupted.
Would they be successful in cutting off the spy's retreat?
Suspecting that he would be followed, he might leave the train at Pisaand go on to Florence, and thence to Milan. Or again, at Genoa he mightdecide to continue along to Ventimiglia and thus across the frontierinto France at that point.
Hubert pointed out these loopholes of escape, whereupon Pucci returnedto the telephone and was presently speaking to the Commissary of Policeat the station of Ventimiglia, giving him a description of the fugitive,and asking that he might be followed. And afterwards he spoke to thepolice officer at Pisa station, warning him in similar manner.
Thus all that they could do from that dark, lonely, obscure little townthey did, yet Hubert's thoughts were chiefly with Lola. He waswondering if she had yet returned to Rome.
The startling truth which he had learnt whil
e listening to theconversation in Orvieto that evening had staggered him.
The spy, Flobecq, still held the trump card--those foolish declarationsof affection and admissions of her guilt.
Truly the situation was most serious, for the honour of the Royal Houseof Savoy was at stake!
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
SPREADING THE NET.
At half-past three next day Hubert Waldron entered the private room ofthe Questore, or Chief of Police at Turin, where they found a ratherelegant, brown-bearded man seated at his writing-table. He instantlyrecognised Pucci, and quick explanations ensued.
"The man you want duly arrived here," said the official, "and was pickedup by Cimino--whom I believe you know."
"Certainly. He was with me in Genoa some years ago," said Pucci.
"Well, all I know is, that the man Flobecq left by the Paris expressjust before noon, and Cimino is with him. I had a telephone messagefrom you to the effect that His