Flower of the Gorse

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE TIGHTENING OF THE NET

  In the ordinary course of events the mortal remains of Walter Carmacwould have been inclosed in a leaden shell and transhipped to the UnitedStates for burial. But a woman's whim intervened. Mrs. Carmac suddenlydecreed that the interment should take place at Nizon. Pont Avenpossesses no cemetery of its own. Nizon, perched on the plateau of aneighboring hill, provides a final resting place for dwellers in thevalley. Thither was borne in state a huge casket containing the body ofthe dead millionaire.

  Such a funeral had not been seen at Pont Aven in many a year. Thevillage turned out en masse. By that time everyone knew of theextraordinary coincidence that brought Yvonne to the rescue of a wreckedvessel that had her aunt on board. When the news spread that the womanwas immensely rich local interest rose to boiling point.

  Many and various, therefore, were the conjectures of the crowd as soonas it was seen that the widow, who insisted on attending the ceremony,was not accompanied by her niece. She was escorted to a carriage by herhusband's nephew, a tall, slim, dark-featured young man of aristocraticappearance. In a second carriage were seated Bennett, the lawyer, headof the firm of Bennett, Son & Hoyle, an elderly man who had conveyancingand mortgage stamped on his shrewd yet kindly face; Captain Popple,hectic in a suit of black; and Raymond, looking smaller and moredejected than ever in his mourning attire. That was all, in so far asrelatives and friends were concerned.

  The third and last carriage contained a local notary, the mayor of PontAven, and Dr. Garnier.

  Mrs. Carmac's unexpected decision that her husband should be buried inBrittany was made known only when it was impossible for others to comefrom a distance. With one exception, the steward whose ankle wassprained, the crew of the Stella had been sent to England; so themillionaire was followed to the grave by few who were acquainted withhim in life. But the village saw to it that the cortege lost nothing indignity or size. Gendarmes, custom house officials, and various townfunctionaries marched behind the carriages. Half a dozen sailors of theFrench marine yielded to the national love of a spectacle, and fell intoline. Then came the townsfolk in serried ranks, the Breton garb of menand women adding a semibarbaric touch of color.

  A Paris correspondent of a New York daily expressed the opinion to acolleague that the bereaved wife had acted right in burying her husbandwithin sight of the sea that had claimed him as a victim.

  "At first," he said, "I thought it a somewhat peculiar proceeding. Now Ibegin to understand. If I had any choice in the matter, I shouldcertainly prefer to find my last home in this peaceful little spotrather than fill lot number so-and-so in a crowded cemetery."

  "Tastes differ," said the other. "Personally I'd like to have my ashesbottled and put in a window overlooking Broadway. Who comes in for allthe money?"

  "The widow, I'm told."

  "Doesn't young Fosdyke get a slice?"

  "Don't know. No good trying to worm anything out of Bennett."

  "Fosdyke looks like a southern Frenchman. He's English, I suppose?"

  "Yes, by birth and residence. But his father was an American,--came overwith a racing crowd in the '80's,--and married a pretty Creole."

  "Oh, is that it?"

  "Well, there's a drop of negro blood in the family; away back, perhaps,but unmistakable. Did you ever meet Carmac?"

  "No."

  "A tremendous fellow; but years ago he was as thin as Fosdyke."

  "How did they make their money?"

  "Cotton, and backing the North during the Civil War. That's why theyleft the States. The pure-blooded Southerners didn't like 'em, anyway,and the men who fought under Lee and Stonewall Jackson would have tarredand feathered the whole tribe afterward."

  "What's this I hear about a niece discovered in Pont Aven by the lady?"

  "Haven't you seen her?"

  "No."

  "Then take my advice, and quit by the next train. You're tooimpressionable. One glimpse of her, and your life's a wreck. She's theprettiest ever."

  "Why isn't she here today?"

  "Ask me another. But if I were Fosdyke, I'd be in no hurry to rush backto smoky London. By hook or by crook I'd keep Uncle's money in thefamily."

  * * * * *

  This well informed cynic had not gone an inch beyond the known factsconcerning the Carmacs. At twenty-five the man now dead was endowed withthat peculiar quality of looks which is often the heritage of men andwomen of mixed descent, when all other traces of a negroid strain areeliminated save the black and plentiful hair, the brilliant eyes, thestrong white teeth, a supple frame, and a definite thickness of skinwhich makes for perfect complexion and coloring.

  As Walter Carmac had been in youth so was his nephew now. Rupert Fosdykehad often been described as "the best-looking man in London society."The tribute came from the opposite sex. Men, for the most part, dislikedhim because of his egregious vanity. But he was no carpet knight. Heplayed polo regularly at Ranelagh, was a keen fox hunter, and had riddenhis own horses in steeplechases at Warwick, Leamington, and other countyfixtures. He was a prominent "first nighter" in theatrical circles, andknew a great many musical comedy celebrities by abbreviated versions oftheir assumed Christian names. This latter weakness had brought him intocourt as a principal in a somewhat notorious breach of promise case, andhis uncle and he had quarreled irrevocably on that occasion.

  Rupert regarded the older man as a philanthropic "muff," and dared totell him so, though such candor was likely to prove expensive. His ownincome was ten thousand dollars a year, provided by trustees of hismother's estate. He contrived only to exist on this sum, and would nothave been guilty of the folly of alienating a millionaire uncle, who hadno heir, but for the onerous conditions laid down for his future career.He was to abandon the "fast set," take Raymond's place as Carmac'ssecretary, and marry.

  Rupert laughed derisively. "Goodby!" he said. "Try again when I'mforty."

  After that the two remained at arm's length. And now the nephew wasfollowing his uncle's body to the grave, and gazing with curiouslyintrospective eyes at the tiny panorama unfolded by the quaint oldvillage as the leading carriage moved slowly onward.

  Singularly enough, he was a prominent figure in Pont Aven that day. Notonly was he discussed by the multitude, but he was not wholly ignored bya gray-haired man and a girl dressed in quiet tweed, who had walked tothe summit of the lofty spur that separates Nizon from the Bois d'Amour,and were watching the long procession climbing the Concarneau road.

  * * * * *

  Ingersoll had returned from Concarneau early that morning. Yvonne,troubled in spirit because of certain hints dropped by Mrs. Carmac, hadwritten to her father an urgent request to come home.

  "Yvonne," said Ingersoll, breaking a long silence, "why is Mrs. Carmacburying her husband here?"

  "She has not told me, Dad, but I am beginning to fear that she means toremain in Pont Aven."

  The girl's voice was low and unemotional; but her father was notdeceived by its studious monotone. He looked down at the village inwhich they had passed so many peaceful years, at the cluster of sardineboats,--among them the Hirondelle, laid up near the quay,--at thetortuous river, thrusting its silvery bends ever toward the open sea, atthe favorite paths over the gorse-clad shores, leading on the one handto the Chateau du Henan and on the other to the Menhirs and the hamletof Rosbras. Those riverside walks abounded in beauty spots. He hadpainted them all, in many lights and in most seasons. They held aperennial charm. He could have sketched each secluded dell from memorywith almost photographic accuracy, and hardly made an error in the typeof the surrounding foliage, whether of lordly and treacherous elms, orclose-knit firs, or blossom-covered apple trees.

  "It is hard!" he said at last, almost unconsciously.

  Yvonne heard, and her eyes grew dim. "It is more than hard," shemurmured. "It is thoughtless."

  A fierce
joy surged into her father's heart, yet he only said softly,"We must find another hermitage, my dear one."

  "Why should we be driven out of the place we have made our home?" shecried, yielding suddenly to the overwhelming demand for a confidant. "Mymother has the wide world to choose from. Why should she settle in PontAven? I am sorry for her, and she is very lovable and gracious; but nopower on earth can part you and me, Dad. Oh, I have been so miserableduring these wretched days! I have had the wildest, maddest thoughts. Ifonly she had not made a new life so impossible! She, my mother, anotherman's wife!"

  The sheer necessity of calming the girl's hysterical outburst imposed arestraint on Ingersoll he was far from feeling. "We need not contemplateheroic measures today, at any rate," he soothed her. "Mrs. Carmac'spresent mood supplies no warranty of her actions next week or nextmonth. Though she may seem to have recovered from the strain of thewreck, probably she is still very shaken and low-spirited. That phasewill pass. She has many interests elsewhere--and few here. Moreover, youknow me too well to believe that I would forbid you ever to hear from orsee her again. That would be foolish, criminal. You are a grown womannow, Yvonne. Life has revealed some of its riddles, bared some of itsbrutal crudities. I can never forget, strive as I might, that you havemet your mother. Let us bide a wee, Sweetheart. Let us wait till you andyour mother have discussed an awkward situation openly. I gathered fromyour letters that she is saddened and disillusioned, and I shall be slowto believe that she really contemplates a permanent residence in PontAven. She and I cannot dwell in the same small village. If she stays, Igo. Why, then, should she wish to bury herself alive here?"

  Yvonne dried her eyes. "I'm so glad I brought you back, Dad," she saidmore cheerfully. "It is such a relief to hear you tackling a problemthat has nearly driven me crazy. You see, I had no one to talk to. Icouldn't confide in Lorry; though I imagine he guesses the truth----"

  "Why do you think that?" broke in Ingersoll quickly.

  "It seems that some days ago he overheard a conversation between CaptainPopple and Mr. Raymond, Mr. Carmac's secretary, the man whose arm wasinjured. He was writing in the old dining room at Julia's, and heardvoices outside. At first he paid no heed; but some reference to anattempt at salvage on the wreck appeared to upset Mr. Raymond veryconsiderably. Then, when Mr. Raymond became calmer, he led the talkround to us--to our history, I mean. Some lady had given Captain Popplecertain details picked up from village gossips. The captain--quiteinnocently, Lorry thought--corrected a silly story which Mr. Raymond hadgot from Peridot, and Mr. Raymond grew quite excited. Lorry has seenPeridot, and finds that Mr. Raymond actually went to his cottage andquestioned him--about us. Peridot told him some outrageous fibs----"

  "He would," said Ingersoll, with a grim smile.

  "Well, Lorry is such a loyal soul that he didn't hesitate to warn Mr.Raymond very plainly that he must mind his own business."

  "Exactly what one might expect from Lorry too."

  "I don't attach much weight to Mr. Raymond's prying, nor does Mrs.Carmac. I told her. Was that right?"

  "Quite right."

  "But I couldn't help seeing that Lorry must have formed some theory ofhis own, or he would never have interfered."

  "If Lorry were our only bugbear, our troubles would be light. Have youmet this Raymond?"

  "Oh, yes. Often. He comes to Mrs. Carmac daily for orders; though she orI have to write letters and telegrams, as he can only print laboriouslywith his left hand."

  "Have you seen a good deal of Rupert Fosdyke?"

  * * * * *

  Now Yvonne had not mentioned Fosdyke's name in her letters. She did notlike him. Indeed, she mistrusted him from the moment of their firstmeeting, when the gallant Rupert favored her with a glance of surprisedadmiration; which, however, faded into a covert scrutiny on hearing thatshe was Mrs. Carmac's niece.

  Her sentiments toward this new-found "cousin" had developed speedilyfrom passive indifference into active resentment of his ways. Of coursethere was nothing in Pont Aven to interest an ultra "man about town"; soFosdyke took to escorting Yvonne from the hotel to Mere Pitou's cottage.At first she yielded out of politeness. When the short promenade becamean established custom, and Fosdyke even called for her at the hours shemight be expected to visit her mother, she was at a loss to know how toget rid of him. She thought first of Tollemache; but instinct told herthat he and Fosdyke would mingle as amicably as fire and oil, and withsimilar results. Then she sought the assistance of Madeleine Demoret,and thereby added a new burden to an already heavy load; for the villagegirl became straightway infatuated about the handsome stranger, andFosdyke, who spoke French fluently, took malicious pleasure in annoyingthe pretty prude, as he classed Yvonne, by flirting with Madeleine.

  No wonder, therefore, that the girl should have longed for her father'scompany and protection; though she looked at him now with an air ofbewilderment.

  "You know something of him, then?" she said, searching the worn facewith anxious eyes.

  "I know his name. I attended his mother's wedding. Indeed, why troubleto conceal the fact that it was then I first saw your mother? She was abrides-maid, a girl of fourteen, and already notable as a musicalprodigy. I did not meet her again for six years, when her voice hadgiven way, and she began to dabble in art. Mr. and Mrs. Fosdyke broughttheir little son to our wedding. He was an extraordinarily pretty child,and almost attracted more attention than the bride."

  Ingersoll spoke in the tone of one who was recalling the past withoutpain; but his glance followed the last stragglers of the procession toNizon,--Nizon, with its finely carved Calvary, and its high-perchedstone cross bearing the tortured body of the Christ.

  "Father dear," cried Yvonne impulsively, "I have made up my mind. Youare powerless; but I can act. I will not have you harrowed and woundedat every turn. You and I, together with Lorry and Peridot, saved mymother's life. She must repay us by the only means she possesses,--byconferring the freedom of our own small Paradise."

  "Yvonne," he sighed, "some day soon you will be marrying."

  * * * * *

  Whereat the girl almost laughed. "No matter what happens, that is thelast thing I should dream of doing," she said.

  "But why? It is the one thing that a girl of your age should have mainlyin mind. Even in this small community, you might find a most excellentand chivalric husband----"

  "Meaning Lorry," said Yvonne, without hesitation.

  "Well--yes."

  "But--I don't care for Lorry--in that way."

  "Has he ever asked you?"

  "No. Once or twice, perhaps, he has hinted that Barkis was willing. Thelast time was no later than the day of the wreck."

  "And what did you say?"

  "I was nearly angry with him."

  "You would prefer him, I suppose, to a man of the Rupert Fosdyke type?"

  "I loathe the sight of Rupert Fosdyke!"

  "How has he offended you?"

  "In no way that I can put into words. He is very courteous, and quite aclever talker, and he tries to make every woman he meets believe thatshe is the one creature on earth he adores."

  "Then poor Lorry, with his chummy slang and abounding good conceit withhimself and all the world,--excepting this Mr. Raymond, I takeit,--compares but indifferently with the smooth-spoken Rupert?"

  "Lorry! He's a man! He's worth a million Fosdykes!"

  Ingersoll, well pleased, adopted the sound policy of leaving well enoughalone. "Still, you have given me no specific reason for your dislike ofFosdyke," he persisted.

  "You read my mind too plainly, Dad," she protested, smiling vexedly. "Ididn't mean to tell you, hoping matters would adjust themselves; as,indeed, they may do now, if these invaders withdraw. But Madeleine hasquite lost her head over him."

  "Madeleine Demoret!" Ingersoll was evidently amazed, as well he mightbe, seeing that Breton maids are less approachable by strangers than thegirls of almost any other nationality. br />
  "Yes, and the worst thing is that I am to blame."

  "But how can that be possible?"

  "Mr. Fosdyke arrived here last Saturday, and of course I was introducedto him as Mrs. Carmac's niece. The necessity for any such pretense israther hateful, and he did not render it more acceptable by claiming meas a cousin. Really, Dad, with the slightest encouragement on my part,he would have kissed me!"

  "Shocking!" said Ingersoll.

  "Father dear, don't make fun of me. His cousinly kiss would have burntmy cheek."

  "I can't profess fierce indignation because a young man tried to seize agood opportunity to kiss a pretty young woman."

  "Well, he didn't dare make the attempt," declared Yvonne spiritedly. "Herealized at once that I would have slapped his face soundly for hispains."

  "But are you serious about Madeleine? I mean, rather, do you think sheis really enamored of him, or merely showing off for Peridot's benefit?"

  "So serious that I am profoundly thankful the settled weather has keptPeridot at sea."

  "Do they meet frequently?"

  "I hate suspecting people, Dad; so I can only say that I don't know. Letus get away from all this worry for a day. Send Barbe for Lorry, and askhim to _dejeuner_. Then the three of us will walk by the Belon road toMoelan, and have tea at the inn. It will do us a heap of good."

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Carmac, after a burst of hysterical sobbing which her nephew triedto stop by a few conventional words of sympathy, subsided into even moreexasperating silence as the carriage rolled back from Nizon. Fosdyke,being an egotist, did not exert himself to console her; he was, indeed,profoundly relieved when the wretched journey came to an end. He helpedhis aunt to alight, but did not attempt to escort her into the annex.Instead he waited until the second carriage drove up, and Bennettappeared.

  "Am I wanted for any formalities?" he inquired offhandedly.

  "Not at present, Mr. Fosdyke," was the quiet answer.

  "Isn't it customary that the will should be read after the funeral?"

  "Yes, if it is available."

  "Surely my uncle did not die intestate?" The question was shot out witha fiery eagerness that showed how joyfully any indication of the absenceof a will would have been received.

  "No," said Bennett, after a pause. "Mr. Carmac's will, in duplicate, islodged in my office and at his bank. I did not bring my copy, as I hadno reason to believe that events would shape themselves as they havedone. But a confidential clerk is on the way with the document. Hetelegraphed from St. Malo this morning that he had caught a train thatshould reach Pont Aven about half past four this afternoon. At fiveo'clock, if convenient to you, I suggest that we meet in Mrs. Carmac'srooms."

  Then Fosdyke knew that the gray-haired lawyer had been playing with him;but he only said airily, "Such distractions as seem to flourish in PontAven will probably leave me at liberty about the time you name, Mr.Bennett."

  The lawyer nodded, kept a stiff upper lip, and followed Mrs. Carmac.

  "The old fox!" growled Fosdyke savagely, careless who heard him. "I'llbet good money he has feathered his own nest all right!"

  The mayor, the doctor, and the notary, who had descended close at hand,wondered what had put this elegant young gentleman into a temper.Raymond and Popple understood well enough, but said nothing.

  "I suppose you ought to invite these local gentlemen to take a glass ofwine?" suggested the secretary.

  "I'll see them boiled first!" was the amiable answer.

  Then Raymond, in his slow French, gave the invitation on his own behalf;but the Pont Aven men were not slow-witted, and courteously excusedtheir further attendance.

  "I've a notion that a gargle of some sort wouldn't come amiss," observedPopple thoughtfully.

  "I can't drink now," fumed Fosdyke. "Raymond, a word with you!"

  Raymond, however, had been furtively engaged in taking stock of RupertFosdyke during the last few days.

  "Sorry," he said, "but our chat must be postponed. Mrs. Carmac would beexceedingly annoyed if she heard that we were inhospitable. You oughtnot to have spoken the way you did before those French gentlemen. It wasdistinctly bad form."

  If a timid hare coursed by a greyhound were suddenly to turn andadmonish its pursuer, the dog would hardly be more surprised thanFosdyke when this queer-looking little secretary dared to chide him. Hewas so completely taken aback that he laughed.

  "I guess you're right," he said. "Order a bottle of champagne. I'll askthose fellows to dinner, and do them well. Then they'll forgive me. Leadon, Macduff! And cursed be he who first cries 'Hold! Enough!'"

  Fosdyke's changed mood was distinctly more agreeable. Popple, for one,deemed him a rather peppery young gentleman, but none the worse becausehe spoke out freely.

  * * * * *

  "Life's a rum thing, anyhow," said the skipper, when the three wereseated in the dining room of the hotel, which was otherwise empty."About this very hour this day week the Stella was makin' bad weather ofit off some little islands north of the Aven. I wanted to put in here;but Mrs. Carmac wouldn't hear of it. I must push on for Lorient, shesaid--an' the pore gentleman we've just planted on top of the hill therewas chaffin' her about bein' afraid o' spooks. Sink me! Who's the spooknow?"

  "I don't see what ghosts had to do with Pont Aven," said Fosdykesharply.

  "Neither do I, Sir," said Popple. "It was a funny remark, look at it anyway you like."

  "Both of you seem to forget Mrs. Carmac's niece," put in Raymondsuavely. The conversation had suddenly taken a dangerous turn, and itmust be headed deftly into a safer channel.

  "What of her?" demanded Fosdyke.

  "Well, she represents the family disagreement which estranged Mrs.Carmac and the late Mrs. Ingersoll. You see, Mr. Fosdyke, your aunt wasaware that her sister lived here, but evidently did not know she wasdead. That fact would account for her disinclination to visit Pont Aven.In a word, Fate drove us on to that wretched reef, which you, Captain,will see more of if this fine weather lasts. How goes the salvagescheme?"

  "I've got a diver, an' the right sort of craft to stand by. Has its ownsteam, an' a derrick, an' it'll be alongside Les Verres at nine o'clocktomorrow morning. I'm sorry I can't find that chap Peridot. They tell mehe's away with the fishin' fleet; but some of the boats may come in bytonight's tide."

  "What is there to salve?" said Fosdyke.

  "Banknotes, an' jew'lry, an' dockyments," said Popple.

  "Rather a wild-goose chase, isn't it?"

  "That is a point on which our worthy friend and I differ," put in thesecretary. "I bow to his superior judgment, of course; but I shall bevastly surprised if he brings ashore anything worth having."

  "It's a bit of a handicap not havin' Peridot," grumbled the sailor.

  "Who is Peridot?" demanded Fosdyke.

  "A Breton, whom Mr. Ingersoll employs occasionally on his cutter,"explained Raymond. "He, and an American named Tollemache, together withMr. Ingersoll and his daughter, were concerned in the rescue."

  "Mighty lucky thing for the rest of you that they were at sea that day,"commented Fosdyke, with a certain viciousness born of a thought that haddarted through his mind. "It was a close call, I'm told. Two minutesafter the last man was taken off the Stella smashed up."

  Raymond smiled. He knew exactly what this dutiful nephew was thinking.Had the Stella been lost with all on board, there would have been somechance of the Carmac estate passing to nephew and nieces,notwithstanding the will. Mrs. Carmac might have been legally presumedto have died first, or, failing that, her relatives might have remainedunknown.

  "Mrs. Carmac means to present Peridot with a sardine boat of his own,"he said, waiting until Fosdyke was surfeited with the gall of his ownevil notion. "Then," he went on, gazing contemplatively at a cart ladenwith casks of cider lumbering across the square, "then, I am given tounderstand, Peridot will marry a girl named Madeleine Demoret, andsettle down in prosperit
y and content."

  There was a pause. Captain Popple, who really had no reason to complainof any deficiency of vision, either literal or figurative, poured outanother glass of champagne, and watched the wine creaming.

  "This fortunate person, Peridot, owns a queer name," said Fosdyke,surveying the secretary with a steady scrutiny. "Isn't a _peridot_ aprecious stone of sorts?"

  "Yes; but his real name is Larraidou. The other is only a nickname,arising from the curious color of his eyes. He's by way of being ahumorist too; though I fancy he could reveal a very ugly disposition ifroused."

  "Humor of any variety is surely out of place in Pont Aven," saidFosdyke. "Here's to Peridot remaining several more days with the fishingfleet--and damn his eyes!" He rose and went out.

  "Affable kind o' young gent, that," commented Popple. "A trifle quick onthe trigger, though. I was glad to hear you touchin' him up a bit, Sir.You did it neatly--twice, an' all."

  "Twice?" Raymond affected astonishment.

  But Popple was a wary bird too. "No business of mine, anyhow," he saidshortly, and, finishing his wine with a gulp, betook himself upstairs,where the injured steward was still confined to his bedroom.

  * * * * *

  The sprained ankle had proved awkward; practically it amounted to adislocation, and Dr. Garnier would not yet allow the patient to put theinjured foot on the ground. A cheerful little Cockney, the steward hadinterested Yvonne at once by his happy-go-lucky demeanor when brought onboard the Hirondelle. Each day she had visited him for a few minutes.Tollemache seldom passed without exchanging a few lively words with him,and he was a positive godsend to Popple.

  "Well, Harry my boy, how goes it?" was the skipper's greeting.

  The invalid was sitting up in an easy chair, placed in front of a lowwindow. Thus he could gaze into the square beneath, and see its wholeextent. In summer the dense foliage of the sycamores would have blockedthe view; but in mid-December their bare branches hid nothing.

  "Fine, Cap'n," he answered. "Mr. Tollemache tole me the doctor said Imight hop downstairs tomorrow. This d'y week I'll be leggin' it back toEngland, 'ome, an' work."

  "Mebbe, an' mebbe not," said Popple, settling his bulk into anotherchair, and beginning to fill a pipe.

  "'Strewth, Cap'n, you're the larst man I'd tike for a Job's comforter,"said the steward.

  "W'at's the rush?"

  "No rush; but I'm goin' along all right, an' 'er Lydyship won't want tokeep a chap like me 'angin' abart."

  "S'pose you get a job here?"

  "Now, I arsk you, Cap'n, w'at can I do in a plice where they torkneither French nor English? I'd be a byby among 'em--a silly byby."

  "This salvage business may last a bit. If you like, I'll ax Mrs. Carmacto put your name on the books."

  "Cap'n, d'y mean it? Well, you are a brick! It'll help a lot if I earn aquid or two while I'm crocked. I've been thinkin' abart this salvageidee. W'at's behind it?"

  "Just pickin' up any odds an' ends we come across. But that's a funnyquestion. Got something in your noddle?"

  "Nothink, Cap'n. On'y it struck me that w'at between sea an' rock theStella must be pretty well dished by this time."

  "Everybody says that," growled Popple. "An' that's just why I've a fixednotion we'll find more'n anyone bargains for."

  He was busy with his pipe, which refused to draw freely, so failed toperceive that the steward was gazing out into the square with acuriously brooding stare. Harry Jackson had been taught by a hard worldnot to blurt out everything he knew.

  "Harry," said Popple suddenly, "would ye like a tonic?"

  "Would a duck swim, Cap'n?" said Harry instantly.

  "There was a glass or two left in a bottle of the boy downstairs. 'Arf amo! I'll ax Marie if it's still on tap."

  Harry stared again out of the window. This time his glance followedHarvey Raymond, who was strolling toward the bridge. He watched thesecretary's thin figure, its ungainliness being somewhat enhanced by thestiffly bandaged arm, until Popple returned in triumph with nearly apint of champagne and a wine-glass.

  "There you are, Son!" he cried joyously. "Put that where the cat can'tget it. You're drinkin' Mr. Raymond's health."

  "Am I?" said Harry. "Then, 'ere's to him, the swab!"

  "Hullo! Don't you like him?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "'E ain't my sort, Cap'n. Monkey-fice, we chaps forrard used to call'im."

  "Sink me! You didn't see much of him."

  "Didn't need to. 'E's the kind o' jumped-up snotty who torks to menbeneath 'im as if they was dawgs. When a real toff calls me 'Jackson' Is'y 'Yes, Sir'; but when that blighter did the sime thing I wanted tobung 'im one in the jawr."

  "Well, I'm dashed!" breathed Popple, surveying his friend with manifestapproval. "Now, who'd ha thought he'd stirred you up in that way?Between you an' me, Harry, I'm not too fond of him meself. I suspicionedthat Mrs. Carmac meant to fire him last week; but I was mistaken.Anyhow, 'Live an' let live' is my policy. So long as he doesn'tinterfere with me, I'll leave him alone."

  "Sime 'ere," agreed Jackson.

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Carmac passed a restless afternoon. Twice she summoned her maid,Celeste, who had come from Paris on receipt of a telegram, meaning tosend that discreet tirewoman for Yvonne, yet twice changed her mind.

  As the hour fixed by Bennett drew near, she felt more reconciled toYvonne's prolonged absence. She was beginning to realize theperplexities and embarrassments to which her daughter was beingsubjected daily.

  The lawyer was first to arrive. "I am glad of the opportunity of havinga word with you in private," he said. "Of course you are acquainted withthe disposition your husband made of his estate; but Rupert Fosdyke maybe disagreeably surprised. If he protests, do not be drawn intoargument. Please leave matters in my hands."

  "Am I to say nothing at all?" she demanded.

  "Nothing controversial. If he blusters, and asks questions, refer him tome."

  "He knows already that Walter viewed his--what shall I callthem?--social entanglements with disfavor."

  "Yes. For all that, he may be hoping for more than he will get."

  "Wouldn't it be wise to soften the blow by an act of voluntarygenerosity?"

  Bennett shook his head. "It would be construed rather as weakness thanas strength," he said. "Fosdyke is not poor. On ten thousand dollars ayear a man can live very comfortably, even in society. An extra coupleof thousand will keep his hunters or run a car. No, Mrs. Carmac. Yourhusband's intentions are set forth very clearly, and I advise you not todepart from them in the slightest particular."

  Five o'clock came and passed; but Fosdyke did not put in an appearance.They waited ten minutes, and the lawyer was about to suggest that thewill should be read without more delay when a hasty step on the stairsand an imperative knock on the door announced the errant one's advent.

  * * * * *

  He apologized gracefully enough. "I went for a stroll," he said, "andmissed my way in the dark. I hope I have not kept you waiting?"

  "It did not matter, Rupert," said Mrs. Carmac.

  "Well, now that we have come together, suppose we get to business," saidthe lawyer, unfastening a brief bag and extracting from its depths abulky parchment. He began reading at once. Mrs. Carmac sat very still, alistener whose thoughts hardly kept pace with the loud-sounding legaljargon. Fosdyke, however, followed every word attentively. First inorder was a long list of bequests to various institutions, and legaciesor annuities to servants. Annuities of five thousand dollars a year toeach of Carmac's two nieces succeeded. Then came a personal reference:

  "To my nephew, Rupert Fosdyke, I give and bequeath the sum of two thousand five hundred dollars per annum during his life. This sum is to be increased to ten thousand dollars per annum on his marriage, provided that such marriage takes place within two years after my death, unless a postpone
ment is rendered necessary by unavoidable circumstances which the trustees of this my will shall deem sufficient cause for an extension of the said period of two years, and provided also that the said trustees shall approve of the person he marries. Such approval should not be withheld unreasonably; but nothing in this testament shall be regarded as interfering with or controlling the absolute discretion of the said trustees."

  There was no hint of tremor or emphasis in Bennett's tone as he recitedthat onerous clause. He treated Fosdyke's legacy with the same sangfroidhe had displayed in detailing a bequest of fifty-two pounds per annum toan aged gardener attached to the Surrey mansion.

  But the despoiled heir bubbled into instant frenzy. He could hardlybelieve his ears when the amount was disclosed. The generous treatmentof his sisters prepared him for at least five times the sum they wouldreceive, and his sallow face grew livid when he knew that the dead man'shand still retained its grip.

  He gasped something; but the lawyer promptly raised his voice, with theair of a man who was not to be stayed in an important undertakingbecause of an incensed legatee. Thereafter Fosdyke paid little heed. Heunderstood, it is true, that the whole of the residue of the real andpersonal estate was left unconditionally to "my dear wife, StellaCarmac," and that the said Stella Carmac, John Carruthers Bennett, andthe public trustee were named as trustees, with the ordinary provisionsas to the appointment of successors.

  But these things reached his senses through a haze of fury anddisappointed greed. He was almost beside himself with rage. Two thousandfive hundred dollars a year! This slight woman in black, sitting theredowncast and melancholy, would have at command an income of quarter of amillion! Bitter as were his thoughts toward his uncle's widow, he waseven more enraged with the smug lawyer. If murder would have served hispurpose, Fosdyke was in a mood to choke the life out of the gray-hairedman whose voice had droned out that sentence of almost completeexcommunication.

  "Can I have a copy of that precious screed?" he said, and if each wordhad been a poison-tipped arrow Bennett would have died a sudden andpainful death.

  "A copy of any will of which probate is granted in England can beobtained by application at Somerset House," said the lawyer calmly; "butin this instance, as you are interested, I see no reason why, with Mrs.Carmac's consent, an uncertified copy should not be supplied from myoffice."

  "I am not thinking of contesting it," went on Fosdyke bitterly. "I haveno doubt that the robbery has been carried out in accordance with thelaw."

  "You have been aware of your uncle's views during the last four years,Mr. Fosdyke--why do you now resent their clear and final enunciation?"came the cold, unemotional comment.

  Fosdyke rose. He would have gone had not Mrs. Carmac stayed him. She toostood up, and came nearer. She was deathly pale, her lips trembled, andshe spoke at first with difficulty.

  "Whatever the consequences, I cannot let you leave me with anger in yourheart," she said. "Still less can I endure that your uncle's memoryshould be made hateful by what you regard as unjust treatment. It wasnot his intention, it can never be mine, that you should be punished forpast errors.... Mr. Bennett, I beg you not to interfere. There aremoments in life when a higher law operates than is writ in thetext-books.... If I were to let you go now, Rupert, harboring evilthoughts against me and the man who is dead, I should hold myselfresponsible in some degree through all the future years. Your uncle onlyasks that you shall marry some woman worthy in herself and fitted tocarry on the traditions of your family. Do that, and you will neverregret it, either in its influence on your own career or in the materialbenefits it will bring without stint or delay. I can say no more. But Ido ask you to believe that I am speaking from my very heart."

  She ceased. For a few seconds there was profound silence in the plainlyfurnished room, which, by its very simplicity, gave a curiousindefiniteness to a conversation in which money, money in millions,minted wealth that would have overflowed through windows and door ifpiled on the floor, figured as a vital element.

  But Fosdyke closed his ears to the woman's plea; though his alert witswarned him that a declaration of war would be nothing short of ranklunacy at the moment. So he bowed with the easy grace that was naturalto him.

  "I appreciate what you have said, Aunt," he murmured, choking back thehumiliated wrath that stormed for utterance. "I don't imagine you expectme to discuss matters now. With your permission, I shall leave Pont Avenas soon as possible. On your return to London I shall ask permission tovisit you."

  Mrs. Carmac would have answered, but he quitted the room abruptly.

  "Rupert Fosdyke is a thorough bad lot," said Bennett, fastening the lockof a brief bag with an angry click. "If that young man pulls himselfstraight, I'll--well, I'll grow potatoes instead of preparing deeds!"

  Mrs. Carmac smiled wistfully. She knew, none better, that the pendulumof life can swing from one extreme to the other. Yet even she might havelost faith had she been with Yvonne when the girl hurried from homeafter supper.

  * * * * *

  At that hour, about half-past eight, though the night was pitch dark,one so accustomed to unhindered movement in any part of the village didnot hesitate to take the short cut that led across the Aven by afootbridge and debouched by an alley on the main street not far from thePlace. She was on the bridge, and a faint luminosity from the swirlingwaters beneath showed posts and rails with sufficient clarity. At thatpoint she ran into two people, a man and a veiled woman, who emergedfrom the black shadow of a mill. The man was Rupert Fosdyke; but thewoman was a stranger. Who could it be?

  Suddenly some trick of carriage and bearing suggested Madeleine Demoret.Madeleine masquerading in modern attire! Madeleine without coif orcollar! And Yvonne knew how a Breton maid shrinks from revealing herselfto masculine gaze without her coif, which is the symbol of all that ispure.

  In her dismay she nearly cried aloud to her friend. But the two hadhurried on, vanishing in the direction of the Bois d'Amour. Sick atheart, she hastened to Madeleine's cottage, where the girl lived with anaunt.

  "_Tiens!_" cried the woman who looked up from the hearth when Yvonneentered. "Why isn't Madeleine with you? She went to Mere Pitou's half anhour ago."

  "We've been to Moelan," faltered Yvonne. "I must have missed her. _Aurevoir_, Madame Brissac."

  "Oh, I cannot bear it!" cried Yvonne in an agony of shame when she wasalone again in the darkness. "My mother! And now my friend! What shall Ido? Is there none to help? How can I tell my father--or Lorry? Dear,lion-hearted Lorry! Surely I can trust him, and he will take that man inhis strong hands and crush him!"