CHAPTER XII
WHEREIN BOTH THE REEF AND MR. RAYMOND
YIELD INFORMATION
Yvonne was looking forward to Raymond's return from Quimperle with anill concealed restlessness that drew a sympathetic inquiry from hermother.
"Are you still fretting about Madeleine?" she said.
This solicitude was not feigned; but it centered wholly in Yvonne. Thefolly, or stupidity, of some pert village maid whom she had never eitherseen or cared to see did not interest Mrs. Carmac in the least. Had shevoiced her real feeling in the matter she would have condemned herdaughter's lack of proportion. During half a lifetime she had dweltamong the elect. To her it was quite immaterial whether or notMadeleine's career was ruined. Nor was this a mere pose on her part. Shehad trained herself to think that way. Yet, so sharply may deeds clashwith personal inclination, both she and Walter Carmac were noted fortheir philanthropy. She strove to do good, but not by stealth. She couldlecture Rupert Fosdyke with genuine zeal; but, while seeking to reformthe victimizer, she had little pity for the victim. From her point ofview, Madeleine was one of a fixed percentage of girls who rebelledagainst the social law. Of course one tried to reduce their number; butit was almost bad form to wear one's heart out because the expected hadhappened.
Yvonne, though she would not have cared to put her impressions intowords, was aware of this attitude on her mother's part, and it saddenedher inexpressibly. At such moments a seemingly impassable gulf yawnedbetween them. Madeleine had been her trusted associate since they werebabies together, toddling up the hill in convoy of some older girl tothe kindergarten class in the convent. She knew that her friend waspure-minded and warm-hearted. Nothing could have shocked her so greatlyas the discovery that a man like Rupert Fosdyke should have succeeded inso brief a time in undermining the moral structure that Brittany buildsso solidly in its women folk.
"I shall never cease fretting about her," she answered. "If by somecruel chance Mr. Raymond's friend fails me, I am minded to ask my fatherto come with me to Paris tomorrow. Madeleine will not resist me if oncewe are brought face to face."
"Your father has far too much sense," said Mrs. Carmac composedly.
"Oh, please don't talk in that strain. I cannot bear it!" pleaded thegirl.
"It hurts, of course; but isn't it better to look at the facts squarely?I am surprised that Mr. Raymond, who has more experience of life, shouldhave flown on a wild-goose chase to Quimperle. It is nothing else. IfMadeleine is actually on her way to Paris, the journey is a matter ofobvious arrangement. Rupert will unquestionably meet her at the Gare St.Lazare, and what opportunity will your deputy have then of making anyappeal to the girl herself? Rupert would simply take him by the collarand swing him aside. You see, Yvonne, I am forty-two, and you aretwenty. We survey life from different angles."
"From different levels, at any rate," said Yvonne, closing her ears tothe cold accuracy of her mother's reasoning. "You gaze down on us simplePont Avenois from the altitude of New York and London, while I cannotpeer above the eaves of our little mills. I am looking now through thelow door of a desolate cottage, and I can discern a broken-hearted womancrooning her sorrow by the embers of a dying fire. Oh, Mother, Mother,if ever you would have me love you as a daughter, you must try andrealize that my very heartstrings are twined round my Breton friends,that I rejoice with them and grieve with them, that I love them fortheir many virtues and condone their few faults! I have never knowinglywished evil to anyone, but if God in His mercy should preserve my dearMadeleine from that horrid man I would not care what means His wisdomadopted. Even though Fosdyke marries her, Madeleine will not be happy,and I cannot think that if he meant to behave honorably he would havetempted her to plunge her people into such distress by leaving homeclandestinely."
Mrs. Carmac could have rocked with laughter at the notion of RupertFosdyke marrying Madeleine Demoret; but she curbed the impulse. Despiteher primitive simplicity, Yvonne was in an excitable mood that night,and this affair must be allowed to settle itself without disturbingtheir good relations.
"Well," she sighed, affecting an accord she did not feel, "we can onlyhope now that your telegram will prove effective. Who is the personwhose aid Mr. Raymond is securing?"
"A Monsieur Duquesne."
Mrs. Carmac wrinkled her smooth forehead. "I have not heard the name,"she said, after a pause. "But there is nothing unusual in that. Raymondis curiously secretive. Any other man, living in a household on thefooting he occupied in the Chase and in Charles Street, would havespoken at times of his relatives. He, for all I knew of his earlierhistory, might have been born in--Saturn. I was going to say Mars; butMr. Raymond does not meet one's ideal of a Martian."
At that Yvonne was constrained to smile. Neither she nor the woman whodismissed Raymond and Duquesne so flippantly could guess what sinisterinfluences lurked behind the association of those two men. An astrologerwould have found something ominous in that haphazard reference to theplanetary harbingers of disaster, Saturn and Mars, and, oddly enough, ahalf-thought of the sort did flit through Yvonne's mind, because sheoften found amusement and interest, during the mild and clear winters ofBrittany, in reading the firmament from a stellar atlas, and there washardly a constellation in the northern heavens she could not name atsight.
At that moment, however, relief from a rather forced conversation camein the shape of Captain Popple's burly form.
* * * * *
"Beg pardon, Ma'am, for intrudin' at this time," he said, when admitted,"but I thought you'd like to hear the result of today's operations onthe reef. Atween Peridot an' a trawl, we've been doin' things."
"Is Peridot here--in Pont Aven?" interrupted Yvonne, blanching in quickalarm.
"Yes, Miss. He kem from Concarneau this mornin', an' I've brought him upthe river on tonight's tide."
"Where is he now?"
"I'm not quite sure, Miss. He left me a couple o' minutes since. While Iwas havin' a word with Jackson, Peridot went up the hill."
"Was he tired?"
Popple was undoubtedly perplexed by this sudden concern as to Peridot'sphysical condition; but he answered readily enough, "Well, Miss, if heisn't, he ought to be. We've been hard at it, high water an' low, forfourteen hours."
Yvonne was so visibly relieved that Popple's bewilderment increased. Ofcourse he had heard no word of Madeleine's flight, and he could notunderstand that if Peridot had gone home and to bed there was a chancethat the fisherman might leave the village again early in the morningwithout being told the disastrous news, since Madame Larraidou was acautious old body, who would not vex her son with idle gossip.
Popple hesitated. If further details of Peridot's well-being wereneeded, he was ready to vouch for the Breton's apparent good health andcomplete sobriety.
Mrs. Carmac fathomed his difficulty at once.
"Go on, Captain," she smiled. "Miss Ingersoll only wanted to be assuredthat Peridot was safe in his cottage. His mother was anxious abouthim--that is all."
"No need, Ma'am, I assure you," said Popple earnestly. "He's one of thebest, is Peridot. For a Frenchman, I've never met his ekal. I had a sortof notion he'd bring good luck, an' he did too. We've got your boxes!"
* * * * *
Mrs. Carmac stood up. Her pale cheeks flushed with gratification. "I ammore than pleased," she cried. "Where are they? Can they be brought heretonight?"
"No, Ma'am; not both, that is. Like meself, I reckon, you're forgettin'the ways of a French custom house. I've got yours, because it was open;but the other one, which is locked, had to be left in a shed down belowthere until the key is produced. I tried to tell some chap in a bluecoat and cheese-cutter cap that if poor Mr. Carmac had any cigars orcigarettes in his cabin trunk they wouldn't be of much account aftersoakin' in salt water for a matter o' ten days or thereabouts; but,bless your heart, he wouldn't listen. Mossoo Gueho, the gentleman fromBrest, tole me I'd
have to bring the key in the mornin', or, morelikely, force it open; so I left it at that."
Mrs. Carmac was puzzled, and showed it. "You say my box is open. Do youmean, that it has been smashed to pieces?" she inquired.
"It's hardly been scratched, Ma'am. You see, it was this way: When theyacht broke in two the fore part was carried clean away by the sea. Thetrawl picked up fittin's an' bits o' machinery two hundred yards fromthe reef. But the after part must ha held together longer, an' the heavyseas didn't get at it quite so fierce like. Anyhow, Peridot sort o'nosed out where them boxes might be lyin', an' we sent the diverdown--an' sure enough there they were."
"Could the box have been wrenched open while being lifted to thesurface?"
Popple scratched his head dubiously, not because of any doubt suggestedby Mrs. Carmac's question, but on account of a problem that had botheredhim ever since the salvage was effected.
"No, Ma'am," he said, evidently weighing his words. "It received norough usage. It wasn't locked."
"But it was!" insisted the lady, rather emphatically. "I locked itmyself before coming on deck after we left Brest. I remember doing somost distinctly."
"Then it's a myst'ry, Ma'am,--a real myst'ry, seein' as the lock hasbeen turned. The wards are full o' sand, of course; but that has nothin'to do with their position."
"Where is the box now?"
"Outside on a handcart, Ma'am. Jackson's on guard. That's been his joball day--just sittin' on that box. You see, Ma'am, you tole me you wasparticular about it an' the other one; so I've taken care that each of'em reaches you just as we found it."
"Will you kindly ask the hotel porters to carry the one box here now?"
"Cert'nly, Ma'am. There's on'y one thing. The contents are in a sadmess. The sight of 'em may upset you."
"No, no. The loss of the clothing is immaterial. Please have the boxbrought in."
* * * * *
Popple lost no time. Mrs. Carmac was explaining to Yvonne that thesolitary article of jewelry she valued, a necklace of graded pearls, hadbeen left in a locked case, itself inclosed in a locked box, when aporter entered and dumped a rust-covered steel trunk on the floor.Popple untied the knots of a rope that kept the lid in position.Unquestionably, if Mrs. Carmac had turned the key in the lock on leavingher cabin, it had been opened later, either by accident or design.
The owner dropped to her knees instantly. After an alarmed glance at anarrangement of straps beneath the lid, she piled a number of sodden andsalt-stained articles on the floor. Soon she was gazing disconsolatelyat an empty box. The jewelcase was not there. But she was more thandisturbed, she was exceedingly annoyed.
"I have been robbed!" she cried. "Someone on board the Stella possesseda key that would open a Yale lock, a thing that called for carefulplanning. I have lost twenty thousand pounds' worth of pearls anddiamonds!"
"Mr. Raymond tole me the necklace alone was worth ten thousand, Ma'am,"breathed Popple thickly.
"Mr. Raymond! How came you and he to be discussing the value of myjewels?" She was on her feet now, glowering in anger, a woman despoiledof her prized possessions, and ready to suspect anyone.
Popple was apologetic. He felt as if he were personally in default. "Wewas talkin' one day about the salvage, Ma'am. If you remember, youmentioned a lot o' money in notes, which ought to turn up in the trunkat the customs shed, and it seemed sort o' nateral that Mr. Raymond an'I should talk things over."
"Yes, yes. Of course he knew all about the notes and the rest. Don'tlook at me in that stupid fashion. I am not accusing you or Mr. Raymondof stealing my belongings. But how can one account for this wretchedbusiness? Who could have dared to go to my cabin, when the robbery mustbe discovered before we reached port that night? I locked both case andbox. Here are the keys. Celeste found them in a special pocket insidethe skirt I wore that day. My husband's keys were in his pocket too.They were brought to me by the mayor on behalf of the police."
She was talking excitedly, almost at random, and had snatched at aporte-monnaie to display the keys, as though the fact that they existedand were in her keeping supplied proof positive that she could not bemistaken.
"It's an awkward business, an' that's the solemn truth, Ma'am," wheezedPopple. "It 'ud please me an' Jackson if you'd send for the police an'have 'em search us an' our rooms. Not that we've got much beyond a fewbits o' linen----"
"You and Jackson--the steward!" repeated Mrs. Carmac shrilly. "Did youknow already that my jewels were gone?"
"We guessed it, Ma'am. We didn't like the look o' that there box, an'that's a fact."
She stamped a foot angrily on the floor of polished wood. "It does notconcern you or Jackson," she cried. "I would as soon think of blamingMr. Raymond, who was with me in the deck saloon during all thosemiserable hours----"
* * * * *
"Blaming me for what, Mrs. Carmac?" came in the secretary's harsh voice.The door had been left open when the box was brought in, and Raymondhimself was standing there now. He had just returned from Quimperle, andhad the semblance of a man pierced with cold, as the night had suddenlygrown chilly. His small eyes roved from Mrs. Carmac's irritated face toYvonne, who was still seated, and had not interfered in theconversation. Then they dwelt on the empty trunk and the disheveled heapof its contents.
"You've recovered some of your baggage, I see," he went on quietly. "Isthat the box containing your jewelcase?"
"It is the box that did contain it at one time," came the vexedrejoinder.
"Do you mean that the case is not there?"
"Yes. Someone has stolen it. I care nothing about the diamonds; but thepearls were given me by Mr. Carmac, and cannot be replaced."
"But--forgive the question--why did you say you do not blame me?"
"I blame no one, you least of any, as you are the one man who was nevernear my cabin since I quitted it."
Raymond advanced farther into the room. After one sharp glance at theflustered sailor, he gazed again at the limp collection of garments onthe floor, from which a light haze of steam was curling lazily, as thetemperature of the apartment was many degrees higher than that of thewet and closely packed lingerie and dresses.
"This is a very serious matter," he said slowly. "Unfortunately most ofthe Stella's crew have left Pont Aven."
"My men were not thieves, Mr.----" broke in Popple fiercely.
"I am not even hinting that they were," said Raymond. "I only mentionthe chief obstacle in the way, of a search for the missing gems--grantedthe almost incredible thing that any man on board the Stella stole themin the belief that he could win clear with his loot before Mrs. Carmacdiscovered her loss. Do you mean to send for the police?" he continued,addressing Mrs. Carmac. "And--that reminds me--what of the money Mr.Carmac carried in one of his trunks? Is that gone also?"
Mrs. Carmac snapped that she did not mean to trouble the police. Thesooner she was out of Pont Aven and free of its oppressive atmospherethe better she would be pleased. Then, apparently ashamed of herpetulance, she explained the mystery of the open lock.
Raymond tried to be helpful. He frowned judicially. "Where did youactually place the jewelcase?" he asked.
"In those straps," she said, pointing to the slings attached to theinside of the lid.
"Then isn't it at least possible that you did not actually lock the box,though believing you had done so? In this event the case, being heavy,may have fallen out, and be now somewhere in the locality where the boxwas found."
"No," said Popple. "The diver had his orders. He searched pertic'lar."His tone was gruff, even hostile. He would be hard to convince that thesecretary's reference to the departed members of the yacht's company wasnot meant as a slur on their character.
Raymond ignored Popple's curtness. "Still, as you yourself said,Captain, the sea acts in a curiously uncertain way at times," he repliedblandly. "There will be no harm in making a fresh search tomorrow.Weather permitting, I shall accompany you, if
for no other reason than awish to see once again a place where some of us--not all,unhappily--were so providentially rescued."
Mrs. Carmac rang for Celeste. "Take these articles, and give them toMademoiselle Julia for distribution among the poor women of thevillage," she said. Her attitude was eloquent. The pearls were lostirretrievably. She dismissed the subject.
"_Mais, Madame_," cried the dismayed Celeste, "much of the linen isveritably new, and only requires washing."
"Do as I bid you. I shall never wear any of those garments again.Captain Popple, here is the key you want. I leave you to deal with thecustoms people. Will you help Celeste to remove the box? Thank you.Well, Mr. Raymond, you have just returned from Quimperle, I suppose? Didyou have a cold journey?"
* * * * *
Raymond took the cue, and said nothing more of the theft. When Poppleand the maid had gone he explained that during the run to Quimperle hedecided that it would be more discreet to telephone Duquesne than sendYvonne's telegram. He was lucky in reaching his friend without delay,and was thus able to give him detailed instructions, including a fulldescription of Madeleine's appearance. Duquesne had promised to meet thetrain at the Gare St. Lazare. In fact, he was so eager to serve that,failing Madeleine's arrival at the expected hour, he would meet the nexttrain, and the next. In any case he would telegraph the result early inthe morning.
In a word, Raymond had acquitted himself admirably. He had forgottennothing, left no stone unturned. Yvonne was more than ever grateful.
Mrs. Carmac was tired, almost peevish; so the girl did not remain muchlonger.
She agreed readily when Raymond asked to be allowed to see her home, anddid not demur on reaching the bridge at an unexpected request that sheshould walk with him a little way down the road to the harbor.
"The hour is not so late," he said deferentially, "and I wish to laybefore you a very serious matter. I may surprise you greatly. I may evendistress you. But I do want you to believe, Miss Yvonne, that in baringmy heart to you I am not swayed by unworthy motives."
The girl was certainly astonished by this portentous opening; but thesecretary's action with regard to Madeleine had completely dissipated asense of restraint and dislike that she was usually aware of when in hiscompany. Thinking he had some news from Paris that he did not wish toreveal in Mrs. Carmac's presence, she hastened to assure him that hemight speak with the utmost candor.
"That is good and kind of you," he said; "but it is only what I expectedto hear from your lips. But I am sure you will forgive me if I treadwarily. I have that to tell which may find you unprepared, and I thinkyou will thank me afterward--no matter what view you take of what I maycall an astounding revelation--if I do not blurt out what I have to saylike some frightened child. My nature is a cautious one, and I shrinkfrom even the semblance of inflicting pain. Such characteristics may becommendable in their way; but they have their drawbacks in a case likethis, when a man who would willingly undergo any suffering for your sakeis forced, against the grain, to utter unpleasant truths."
* * * * *
Yvonne was more and more bewildered. She realized intuitively now thathe meant to discuss her mother's affairs, since Madeleine could notpossibly have reached Paris yet, and any tidings he might have obtainedwith regard to Rupert Fosdyke's schemes hardly warranted such analarming preamble. So she strove to make him comprehend that he wastreading on dangerous ground.
"If you are referring, even indirectly, to Mrs. Carmac," she saidfrankly, "I must warn you instantly that I cannot listen to anythingconcerning her. Until she came to Pont Aven I was not even aware thatsuch a relative as an aunt existed. When she leaves this place--though Ishall see her often, I hope, in the future--the relations between uswill be rather those of good friends than of aunt and niece. You oughtto understand, then, Mr. Raymond, that if your confidences deal with herI refuse to hear them."
Raymond sighed heavily. He seemed to be at a loss for words. In realityYvonne had said exactly what he anticipated, and he counted on a welljudged delay as calculated to increase her agitation and weaken herdefenses.
"Please don't render an ungracious task harder," he said, as thoughnerving himself to a supreme effort, when Yvonne, after walking a fewpaces in silence, was about to tell him that she would go no farther. "Imeant to prepare you by some vague comments that would clear the air.But your highly strung and generous temperament will not permit anydisplay of what I have described as my methods of caution. Well, then,if it must be so, let us get to the crux of the matter at once. Mrs.Carmac is not your aunt, Miss Yvonne. She is your mother! She was yourfather's lawful wife! She deserted him and you, got an American divorce,and was married to Walter Carmac in England. I believe that the secondmarriage was not a valid one. It is terrible to have to say thesethings; but they are true, and it rests with you to save her fromexposure and ignominy. I beseech you to credit my good faith in thismatter. To whom can I appeal if not to you, her daughter? It ismanifestly impossible that I should go to your father. He could not helpher if he would. Her future happiness, her very means of existence, arein your hands. Can you then reproach me if I ask you to bear with mewhile I endeavor to show a way out of a situation bristling withdifficulties for all of us, alive with real danger for your own mother?"
* * * * *
In the first shock of this disclosure Yvonne was minded to rend the manwith a few quiet words of scorn and disdain, and then leave him. Twiceshe essayed to break in on his measured utterances, and twice she heldback. She could not know that Raymond had forged his thunderbolt with noslight skill. He could not hope to achieve the final effect he aimed atby merely revealing a secret that was no secret. Close observation hadshown that the girl was well aware of the relationship she bore to Mrs.Carmac, and, although she might be a prey to terror and dismay atfinding the knowledge in possession of a comparative stranger, she wouldhardly do other than resent his interference, resent it too with a gooddeal of spirit and hot indignation.
He contrived therefore to combine innuendo with fact. He had counted thecost. He was playing a desperate game. During the next five minutes hemust have in Yvonne either a determined opponent or a subservient ifunwilling ally. There could be no half measures. If his suit wasspurned, he must attach himself forthwith to Rupert Fosdyke's fortunes.If Yvonne wavered, or was cowed, he would strike a telling blow throughher mother. No matter how the issue tended, he was secure of a thumpingreward.
Once again the hazard of the hour seemed to be with him. Yvonne, almosttongue-tied and wholly bewildered, could only falter brokenly, "Havingsaid so much, you cannot stop now. What do you mean when you say thatMrs. Carmac is in danger?"
He almost chuckled. Things were going well, exceedingly well. She wasready to listen. But he managed to throw an emotional vibration into hisvoice. For the moment the man was a consummate actor; though indeed hehad so much at stake that no extraordinary effort was called for.
"Thank you," he said, apparently groping in a fog of doubt, and forcingan unwilling parade of unpalatable and distressing facts. "It issomething gained to feel that you have suspended judgment. You may ormay not know already that Mrs. Carmac is your mother. I ask you to admitnothing: only to hear and weigh my statements dispassionately. Eighteenyears ago your mother deserted you and your father in Paris. For somereason Mrs. Ingersoll married Carmac in her maiden name two years later.None of her associates ever guessed that the beautiful and distinguishedStella Fordyce had been the wife of an unknown artist. Her secret wassafe with your father. It would have gone to the grave with her but forthe wreck of the yacht on a Breton reef, and the really phenomenalchance that brought her first husband and her child to her rescue. Eventhen nothing might have been revealed had not Carmac lost his life.Really, if one were superstitious, one would see the action ofProvidence in----"
"Please spare me any references of that sort," broke in Yvonne. Shecould endure much; but she
was not compelled to suffer this hypocriticalscoundrel's blasphemy.
Raymond started. There was a new quality in her voice. She was regainingher self control, and at all costs he must prevent that. If he wouldwin, he must adopt tactics of the whirlwind order.
"Forgive me," he said. "The thought has been so constantly in my mind oflate that it came unbidden. But you leave me no choice. I must speakplainly, almost brutally. Let Rupert Fosdyke obtain the faintest shadowof the unquestionable facts, and he will not only drive your motherforth a pauper, but put such a complexion on the facts that she will bedisgraced forever among her equals."
"Disgraced! Why? People are not disgraced because they obtain a divorceaccording to the laws of their own country."
"No; but they are punished severely if they offend against the socialcode. Mrs. Carmac's offense is against British law. She cannot deny it.The first person who lodges an information can upset her husband's will.Deprived of his money and its influence, what becomes of her?"
* * * * *
Yvonne stood in the road as though she had been turned to stone, andperforce Raymond halted and faced her. There was not a strong light inthat place. Some fifty yards away shone a lamp that marked a footbridgeacross the top of the harbor. Just beneath the Aven took its last plungeas a mountain stream and mingled its sweet waters with the tides. On therocks, high above the river, a Calvary was silhouetted against the cold,clear blue of a starlit sky, and it needed no highly imaginative mind topicture the stark figure of the Christ gazing down compassionately onone of His creatures who was disobeying His ordinances.
Not far distant was the cheerful cafe frequented by artists and writerson summer evenings, where Madame Marechale, Julia Guillou's sister,dispensed cups of black coffee, and tiny glasses of liqueur cider, andepigrams--each excellent in their way. In a flash the notion presenteditself to Yvonne's overburdened mind that the pleasant intimacy of thosemild revels was being banned by some malign influence which had itsliving agent in the diminutive creature now confronting her. The emptyright sleeve of Raymond's overcoat added to his lop-sided appearance.The black figure, sharply outlined against the white road and theluminous mist rising from the river, was almost ghoul-like in itsungainliness. She could see the Calvary. Raymond had turned his back onit. Instantly she found in him the personification of the impenitentthief.
But she had her wits about her now. Life was becoming too complex in itsissues that a girl should handle them alone. No matter what the outcome,her father must take control; but before going to him she must probethis miscreant's full intent.
"Do you imply that you are the person who may lodge an information?" shesaid, with a calmness of tone that sounded bizarre in her own ears.
"No, no. That is the last thing I would think of," protested Raymondheatedly.
"Or that you feel compelled to acquaint Rupert Fosdyke with his rightsas his uncle's heir?"
"He has no rights. His uncle has cast him off deliberately. He is anunscrupulous roue--witness his heartless philandering with your friendMadeleine!"
"In that event, why have you made revelations to me, which, if true,cannot fail to be hurtful?"
"I want to become your loyal ally in shielding your mother from theconsequences of her past mistakes."
"I am almost powerless, Mr. Raymond. Mrs. Carmac will go from Pont Avensoon. I remain with my father. What sort of alliance can you and I formthat will protect or benefit her?"
Raymond's small eyes blazed with sudden fire. She had actually helpedhim to surmount the stiffest barrier. "The best and most enduring ofall," he said thickly. "Marry me! Why not? You are free. I shall be adevoted husband. Your slightest wish will be my law. You will not beseparated from your parents, with either of whom you can dwell for suchperiods as you think fit. Marry me, and every ill now threatening yourmother will dissolve into thin air!"
At that crisis the image of Laurence Tollemache obliterated that of thelittle man with the grating voice, and Yvonne could have laughed aloud.But she kept her head. The naive habit of thought induced by closecommunion with her Breton friends stood her in good stead then, when afalse move might precipitate she knew not what ills.
"Is that the price of your silence?" she said, and the clear, preciseenunciation recalled her mother in every syllable.
"That is not a fair way to put it," was the hoarse answer; for thestrain was beginning to tell, even on Raymond's nerves of steel.
"Let me hear how you put it," she went on mercilessly.
"We would be making a compact to our mutual advantage," he said. "Iwould gain a beautiful and accomplished wife; you would inherit yourmother's millions. We would unite in protecting her and punishing RupertFosdyke."
"I see," she said, with an air of careful consideration. "You do notwant an answer tonight, I suppose?"
"Time is pressing--horribly pressing."
"In that respect time must stand still until tomorrow. We shall meetthen."
She went off without any attempt at bidding him farewell. Raymond glaredafter her fixedly. He was annoyed, almost discomfited, but notdisheartened. He had taken the step that counts. She knew now what layat the back of his projects, and that was a long stride toward the goal.He was so deeply absorbed in reckoning the pros and cons of every wordYvonne had spoken that he failed to see Tollemache standing outsideJulia's until close on him. Even then he could not find his tongue; sohe merely grinned. Thus might a fiend gloat over a soul in peril. Wasthere none to help? Raymond, at any rate, saw a clear road. He was mostaffable to the porter who was waiting to assist him in undressing. For aman with a broken arm he had struck a shrewd blow in Pont Aven thatnight.