CHAPTER XIII
SHOWING HOW TOLLEMACHE TOOK CHARGE
Yvonne found her father hunched up in his accustomed chair. He wassmoking, and brooding, his gaze centered in the pine logs crackling onthe hearth. Thus had she found him each night since his return fromConcarneau. He, seldom without a book after daylight failed unless somecrony called in for a chat, had not opened a book during many days. Hehad the aspect of a man crushed by misery. It was borne in on hisdaughter that he was slowly yielding under an intolerable strain; yet ithad become her bitter portion to add materially to a load carried souncomplainingly.
He looked up as she entered, and essayed a welcoming smile whichconveyed a ghostly reminiscence of a joyous past now utterly remote. Itcut her to the quick; but she strove to emulate his seeming nonchalance.
"I thought my message would have brought you sooner," he said. "Butperhaps you were helping your mother to overhaul her boxes. Mere Pitougave me the news of the salvage, which has surprised our local experts.This is the first time in the memory of man that Les Verres havedisgorged their prey."
"What message, Dad?"
Yvonne removed her hat and coat, and seated herself on a sheepskin rugby her father's side. She had that to say which would be hard for both,and she did not wish to see the agony in his face.
"Haven't you seen Lorry, then?" he inquired.
"No, Dear."
"But that is strange. Lorry left here quite half an hour ago, meaning toask you to come home. I didn't think Pont Aven could hide you from Lorryif he was bent on the chase."
"Sorry, Dad. Nothing--no one--would have kept me had I known. But Iunderstand what happened. I quitted Julia's about half an hour since.Mr. Raymond was anxious for a brief talk, and we walked to the top ofthe quay. Lorry would go to Julia's by the mills. That is how he missedme."
She felt her father's body quiver, as a mettlesome horse might flinchunder the touch of a spur, and knew that the mere mention of Raymond'sname had affected him. It was her habit, when seated at his knee, tocatch his hand and draw it over her shoulder, holding it in both ofhers, and using it as a sort of stay. She had done this insensibly, andher downcast eyes dwelt on the thin, nervous fingers--they seemed tohave shrunk during that time of suffering. The discovery affected herstrangely. She could not, she dared not, unburden her soul then. Nomatter what the cost to herself and others, he must be spared--at anyrate till another day of wretchedness was upon them. She realized justin time that a hot tear stealing down her cheek would drop on that dearhand, and bring about an instant demand for an explanation.
With a jerk she averted her head, and the tear fell scalding on her ownwrist. Her father misinterpreted the movement.
"Don't stir, Girly," he said. "I have something to say, a confession tomake. Remain where you are. I shall cause you pain, and if I find my ownanguish mirrored in your eyes, I may falter in my duty."
* * * * *
So father and daughter were animated by the same thought. Each desiredonly to lighten the shock for the other. Yvonne nestled closer. Morethan ever was she resolved to keep her woes to herself for the hour.With an effort that cost a cruel biting of her under lip, she contrivedto murmur without a catch in her voice:
"You're tired, Darling. Don't tell me you're not. You ought to be in bedand asleep. Let us wait till the morning, and have a nice long chatafter _petit dejeuner_."
"No," said Ingersoll firmly. "I promised Lorry I would speak tonight.He--expects it of me."
"Lorry!" she gasped, in a sudden fright born of the knowledge that hadcome to her in the gloom down there by the whispering river, when acold-blooded trafficker in her mother's difficulties had offered to sellhis secret at the price of all she held dear. "Lorry! How is Lorryconcerned in our present troubles?"
"Your troubles are his, Sweetheart. Lorry loves you. True knight-errantthat he is, he wants to slay the dragon that would devour you."
"But, father dear, how could he know? How could anyone know?"
In her quick alarm the cry slipped out unaware. Happily, as ittranspired,--for there is no telling what John Ingersoll might have donein his anger if Raymond's infamous suggestion had reached him in thepresent state of tension,--he misunderstood a second time.
"Lorry didn't know, he only guessed," he said gently. "He is a goodfellow, and I ached for the sympathy of some man to whom I could talkfreely. So, to remove the cloud between us, of which each has beensensible since we came ashore on that Thursday night, I told him thetruth, and the whole truth. He urged that you should be told too. He isright. Oddly enough, despite my vaunted repute for wisdom, he saw intothe muddle more clearly than I. Yvonne, I did not divorce your mother.I--I regret my action now, when regret comes too late. According toEnglish law she never could have been Walter Carmac's wedded wife whileI lived. Girly, forgive me! I have wronged both her and you grievously."
Yvonne whirled round and flung her arms about the stricken man's neck.There was no pretense now at hiding her tears; but her eyes shone withanother light than that of grief.
"Dad," she cried fiercely, "I sha'n't have you torn and harried in thisway! I refuse, do you hear? It is my turn to bear some of the suffering,some of the sacrifice. I am young and strong, and you have trained mewell for the battle. My mother's story must not become known. We mustsave her, you and I. Isn't it by such means that our worth is tested? Doyou think I'll shirk the ordeal? No, a thousand times no! We can't talkreasonably tonight. We would rend each other's hearts. But tomorrow,when we are calmer, we must look at things fearlessly, and take the roadthat leads to honor, no matter what the cost!"
Her father stroked her hair to still her frenzy, just as he had oftendone in the stress of some childish tantrum; for Yvonne had never been ademure little saint, but owned in full measure the defects of a frankand impulsive temperament.
"Don't let us give way to hysteria," he said, smiling wanly. "Of courseit was my fault. I cracked up first; but I sha'n't offend again.Perhaps, as you say, we may take a more level-headed view of ourdifficulties in cold daylight. But, to prepare you, so to speak, I mustwarn you that your mother's chief enemy is that churl Raymond."
"Raymond!" Again was Yvonne almost choked with apprehension. How couldher father suspect the devilish scheme the secretary had hatched? HadLorry probed the depths of the man's evil mind? Her brain swam; but shecompelled her faculties to remain alert.
"Yes--Raymond," her father was saying. "I have no absolute proof; but Iam convinced that he overheard your mother's frantic words of selfreproach when the Hirondelle was coming up the river. The very agent heis employing in Paris, ostensibly in aid of your quest for poorMadeleine, is really engaged in a search into the early records of ourlives, your mother's and mine. The inquiry is a simple thing. If Raymondhas not secured the necessary evidence already, it is only a matter ofhours before it is in his hands. Then, unless a miracle happens, he candictate his own terms. Worst of all, your mother will be in his power aslong as she lives, and an unscrupulous scoundrel, such as I believeRaymond to be, could cause untold mischief after her death."
Yvonne rose to her feet, and straightened her lithe, slim body. With adetermined gesture she brushed away a mist from before her eyes. "I wantto ask a few questions," she said. "You will be quite open and candidwith me, I know, because it is necessary that we should meet the trialsof the next few days with the clearest knowledge of each other's aims.Do you think it possible to make any arrangement with Raymond that wouldbe binding?"
"The blackmailer's appetite only grows by feeding. Pay him a very largesum today, and he will demand four or five times the amount within amonth or a year. There is no finality. The wolf may eat to repletion;but it will continue to slay in mere lust of killing.
"Is there no way of defeating him?"
"Lorry, as I hinted, hit on a notion. I have no means of knowing exactlywhat legal steps Carmac and Stella took to make their marriage valid.Carmac might have bee
n advised to establish, or secure, Americancitizenship. Moreover, French law may adapt itself readily to Americanstandards. Those are points for lawyers; but I want you to go into thematter thoroughly with your mother, and ascertain whether or not thereexists any sort of legal barrier that may serve to keep this jackal fromdevouring her. That is one reason why I have opened my heart to youtonight."
Yvonne had Mrs. Carmac's trick of wrinkling her brows when in deepthought. Many a time had her father chaffed her on the habit, andpretended to wait in breathless suspense till the oracle announced itsweighty decision. But the creasing of the smooth forehead passedunnoticed now. They were no longer light-hearted playmates, but a manand a woman pondering one of life's most harrowing problems.
"Raymond can get nothing at all unless he acts through Rupert Fosdyke,"she said collectedly. "Why shouldn't an arrangement be made withhim--Fosdyke, I mean? It's all a question of this wretched money. Whyshouldn't Mother give it to him and his sisters? Surely they would leaveher sufficient to live on?"
Youth is sanguine. Yvonne had reached the same conclusion as Tollemache;that, if money were really the root of all evil, the noxious growth thathad sprung into such vigorous existence in Pont Aven since the feast ofSaint Barbara might be torn out bodily.
But Ingersoll thought the discussion had gone far enough for the time.Certainly a settlement on reasonable lines might be effected; but it wasimpracticable to form anything in the nature of a fixed opinion untilYvonne and her mother had talked matters over in the light of fullunderstanding. Something was gained in the fact that the last obstaclein the way of complete confidence between Yvonne and himself had beenthrown down. His manner showed how beneficial this belief on his partmight prove. He sprang up with a certain alertness of movement that waseloquent of new-born hope.
"No more talk tonight, Mignonne," he cried cheerfully. "Now that we knowthe worst, we can fight in the open side by side. Hitherto I have feltthat I was treating you unfairly in withholding from your ken the mostdamaging item in your mother's catalogue of worries. Tell her what Ihave said. I want you to speak without reservation. Then, if she isequally candid, we shall know just where we stand, and whence the mainattack may come."
Unhappily Yvonne was aware, when kissing her father goodnight, that theenemy was attacking already; but she held steadfast to the resolve notto disclose Raymond's brazen scheme at present. The day had producedsufficient wretchedness of spirit already.
* * * * *
So the two parted, and Yvonne, when safe in the solitude of her room,knelt and prayed that some ray of sunshine should pierce the gatheringclouds. Then, in more tranquil mood, she forced her thoughts into a newchannel by reading some pages of a biography of John Ruskin. By curiouschance she came across a passage dealing with Ruskin's ill-fated lovefor Rosie La Touche, and containing a poignant passage in a letter hewrote to a friend:
"I wanted my Rosie _here_. In heaven I mean to go and talk with Pythagoras and Socrates and Valerius Publicola. I sha'n't care a bit for Rosie there; she needn't think it. What will grey eyes and red cheeks be good for _there_?"
Yvonne closed the book with a snap. That shaft from the bow so deftlywielded by a master archer had pierced her very heart. She lovedTollemache. She wanted her Lorry _here_. If any maleficent influencedrove him from her, all the brightness and color would depart out of herlife, a pleasant world grow cold and gray for evermore.
Then, being weary yet eminently healthy, she went to bed and sleptdreamlessly, and was up betimes in the morning. It was pleasant to seethe sun rising into a clear sky above the stunted trees crowning theToulifot hill. The frosty weather, coming unusually early that year, hadlasted far beyond the prescribed brief period of such cold snaps inDecember. There was little or no wind. It was an ideal day for a walk.Meaning to excuse herself from motoring, and wheedle her father into along tramp after luncheon,--with Lorry, perchance, to disprove theinfallibility of the adage that two is company and three is none,--shewarned Mere Pitou that she would return for the midday meal.
"Ah, _tcha_!" said Madame testily. "What between one thing and another,I'm thinking of taking a holiday. Little Barbe could have done all thecooking needed in this house during the past week. Look at your father!Anyone would say I starved him. As for you, flying about and eatingscraps and hashes in strange hotels, I'm surprised at you!"
Yvonne assured her irate landlady that the best ragout in Brittany wouldnot lack appreciation that day, and went to visit her mother in morecheerful mood than she would have deemed possible overnight. It wasmarket day, and the Place au Beurre, beside whose old houses the parishchurch of Saint Guenole reared its modest spire, was alive already withcountry carts, smart coifs, and velvet jackets. In the larger squareacross the bridge traders from neighboring towns were erecting stallsfor the display of their merchandise, mostly wearing apparel andarticles of household use.
Yvonne knew everybody, and everybody knew her. She had a smile and a nodfor the Widow Limbour, whose confectionery and sweets had won her heartyears ago, for Marrec the barber, Daoudal the baker, Madame Le Naour,purveyor of a strange blend in hats and liqueurs, and Madame Le Garrec,seller of newspapers and picture postcards. Monsieur le Courronc, whoselittle gallery had held many of her father's pictures, had spared amoment from his artistic wood carving, and was looking out at thecrowded marketplace. The Morvans, _Monsieur et Madame_, whose Bretoncostumes and laces excite the desire and empty the purses of fairvisitors in the summer, were in Pont Aven that day, and Canivet thecoach builder was standing at the entrance to the yard that houses hisindustry. Each and all greeted Yvonne. For a few happy minutes sheforgot her worries, until a girl met her, and asked shyly:
"Is there any news of Madeleine?"
That took some of the blue out of the sky. Yvonne had to confess thatnothing was known of Madeleine except that she had gone to Quimperle theprevious day. Her questioner simpered, and passed on. Madeleine's storywas already discredited. Much water would flow under the bridge beforeshe was reinstated in the good opinion of Pont Aven.
* * * * *
Yvonne caught sight of Tollemache, standing, with a pipe in his mouthand his hands in his pockets, outside Julia's. (And, by the way, thereis no disrespect in this curt allusion to the name of the chief hotel inthe village. It is never spoken of locally otherwise than as "Julia's"in English and "Chez Julia" in French. The excellent lady who to a largeextent built, and in every other way owns, the property would think herpopularity was fading if any more ceremonious description was used.)
Near Lorry were Captain Popple and Jackson, the latter now promoted to astick and a slow limp. Yvonne would have passed with a smiling"Goodmorning," but Tollemache pocketed his pipe and hailed her. Sherealized instantly that he was excited about something quite out of thecommon run, though his air was studiously composed.
"You're going to Mrs. Carmac, I suppose?" he said.
"Yes," she answered, coloring slightly under the intensity of his gaze,for Lorry had fine eyes, and now they seemed to be looking into herheart; which was so absurd a notion that her cheeks grew redder andredder.
"You won't be there long before Raymond comes in," he went on earnestly."When he turns up I want you to look out through the window, and touchyour chin with your right hand. That's all."
She laughed quite merrily, for sheer relief at the discovery that he wasthinking of anything but the fantasy that had caused that riot in herveins.
"Dear me!" she cried. "What does that signify in the code? Is he to begarroted straight off?"
Tollemache laughed too. "Don't ask any questions, little girl, and youwon't be told any fibs," he said. "Captain Popple and Jackson and I havesome business on hand, and we want Mrs. Carmac and you to be presentwhen we drive a bargain with the wily Raymond. Now, I sha'n't tell youany more; so you needn't pout."
"I'm not pouting."
"Oh, by the way, if there's any news of Madeleine, get it whi
le thedeputation is approaching."
She courtesied, with a demure "_Oui, M'sieur_." Somehow, that morning,despite the unpleasing tidings that might have arrived from Paris, shefelt oddly light-hearted.
* * * * *
But the smile froze on her lips when she met Raymond on the steps of theannex, where he had evidently stationed himself in order to waylay her.His slight figure was tightly buttoned up in a heavy overcoat, and hecarried another coat over his left arm; so he raised his hat moreawkwardly even than usual. Then she remembered that he was going downthe river with the salvors, and summoned all her woman's guile to thetask of bringing him back to her mother's apartments, in case he hadbeen there already and taken leave. She could hardly have explained hermotive. It sufficed that Lorry had made a point of Raymond's attendanceunder given conditions, and she was determined that his wish should beobeyed.
"I've received a telegram from Duquesne," he said, plunging at once intoa topic on which they could converse freely without the inevitableconstraint of a first meeting after the extraordinary disclosure of thepreceding night. "It's satisfactory, in a sense. He was unable toapproach Madeleine, because Fosdyke met her on arrival at the Gare St.Lazare. But he followed them. Fosdyke took Madeleine to a small hotel,and left her there. Duquesne will endeavor to see her this morning."
"Has he obtained her address?" inquired the girl eagerly, sinking herloathing of the man in the importance of his statement.
"No. I'll show you the message, if you'll hold this coat for a second ortwo."
"Come to Mrs. Carmac's room."
"Sorry, I've just seen Mrs. Carmac, and am making for the quay."
"I insist," she said, with a very creditable effort at a coquettishglance. "We can't stand talking here. Come. I'll not keep you more thana minute."
Raymond, veritably astounded by her manner, as well he might be,followed her without demur. He was elated, almost excited. A new andentrancing vista opened before his mind's eye. Were the difficultiesthat yet loomed so large about to vanish into thin air? If Yvonne provedgracious, what else was there to bother him? Each upward step on thecreaking stairs seemed to be another rung in the ladder of fortune. Hedid not know it, but he had reached the highest point of the climb whenhe stood in Mrs. Carmac's room on the first floor.
Yvonne had hurried on ahead, and put a warning finger on her lips whenshe cried aloud, ostensibly to her mother but actually for thesecretary's benefit, "Mr. Raymond is coming in. He has news ofMadeleine, and I didn't want to wait outside lest Peridot should pass. Imean to avoid Peridot until, by one method or another, I get in touchwith Madeleine."
The explanation was not only plausible but strictly accurate. When shecrossed to the window and made the agreed signal to Tollemache she mightwell have been looking out to learn if Peridot was coming down theToulifot.
Lorry and his companions were already on the way. They had seen themeeting in the doorway, and assumed that Yvonne had drawn Raymond in herwake. Nevertheless her stanch friend and devout lover was watching thewindow. He grinned broadly, and waved a hand. Why, she knew not; but herpulses throbbed. Some remarkable thing was going to happen. She felt itin the air.
Then she focused her thoughts on what Raymond was saying. He hadproduced the telegram, the text of which ran exactly as he had given it.
"As I may be absent all day," he added, "I took the liberty to tellDuquesne to wire the result of his interview with Mademoiselle Demoretto Mrs. Carmac. You have his address, and can communicate with himwithout waiting for me."
Mrs. Carmac nodded. She knew of the arrangement already, and meant toinform Yvonne of it herself. She was quick-witted, and her daughter'smanner carried a vague consciousness of the imminence of some mattermore important even than the tangle in which Madeleine Demoret wasinvolved.
"That sounds practicable," said Yvonne, rather for the sake of detainingRaymond than by way of agreement, since her father's revelation haddestroyed every shred of confidence in the man himself and his Parisianhelper. "Monsieur Duquesne can at least let us know where Madeleine isstaying. Then I'll risk all in a personal appeal."
"I would advise you strongly to act only through Duquesne," saidRaymond. "He has wide experience, and is thoroughly trustworthy. You candepend on his discretion. He----"
* * * * *
There was a knock at the door. Tollemache entered. After him camePopple, red-faced and serious, and Jackson, with a bulldog expression onhis Cockney features.
"I want you to give me five minutes, Mrs. Carmac," said Lorry gravely."Certain facts have reached me----"
"I'm sure you'll forgive me," broke in Raymond, with glib assurance,"but I am accompanying the salvage party, and I'll walk slowly on to thequay."
"No, you'll remain here!" said Tollemache. "What I have to say concernsyou more than any other person breathing. Just listen! I'll come to thepoint quickly. Mrs. Carmac, I have good reason to believe that this manRaymond stole your jewels. I believe he has them in his possession atthis moment. Of course I'm fully alive to the risk I run in bringingsuch a charge if it is not substantiated. Now, Raymond, if you're in ahurry, hand over those pearls and diamonds. By staging the _piece deconviction_ you'll save a lot of bother. Then the court, which is nowassembled, can pronounce sentence, and you'll know exactly where youare, which should be a relief."
Tollemache paid no heed to the half-repressed cry of amazement thatburst simultaneously from the lips of both women. He was gazing sternlyand fixedly at Raymond, whose sallow face had suddenly grown livid.During a few trying seconds it really seemed as though the rascal thusroundly accused of a dastardly crime would collapse in a faint. But herallied, and blurted out a protest in a voice choked with fury.
"How dare you?" he cried. "You hound, to attack a defenseless man! Mrs.Carmac, I appeal to you! Do you allow me to be so grossly insulted inyour presence?"
"_Defenseless_ strikes me as the right word," said Tollemache, ignoringMrs. Carmac's involuntary attempt at interference. "Of course you intendit as a plea on account of your injury; but unless I am mistaken--inwhich case I stand to be shot at in any way you choose--you got your armbroken when rifling Mrs. Carmac's trunk. However, I'll explain the wholebusiness to your complete satisfaction. Give me those pearls and theother things. I mean to have them now! Don't think you can escape bybluff, you miserable whelp! Hand them over, or I'll take them, and useas much force as may be necessary!"
Tollemache strode forward, and grasped the lapel of Raymond's coat. Thenindeed it was more than probable that the secretary would drop where hestood. He trembled like one in a palsy, and his lips twitchedconvulsively, but could only mouth incoherent sounds.
* * * * *
Tollemache did not hesitate. Unbuttoning the overcoat, and endeavoringto avoid touching the bandaged arm, he thrust a hand into the innerright-hand pocket of Raymond's jacket. At that the accused man uttered aqueer squeal of mingled rage and despair, and struck wildly at hisadversary with his left fist. Tollemache merely moved his head, and theblow passed harmlessly over his shoulder. In the same instant hewithdrew something from Raymond's pocket, and stepped back.
"What's this?" he said coolly, exhibiting a small square case, coveredwith Morocco leather.
Mrs. Carmac, who had watched this trying scene with manifest distress,looked at the object that Tollemache held in full view. Her eyes dilatedin sheer terror; but recognition dawned in them, and she criedexcitedly:
"That is the case which contained my pearls!"
Tollemache pressed a spring, and a lid flew open. There, coiled within,reposed a string of pearls. Mrs. Carmac gave them one glance; then sheturned on the man who had been so dramatically compelled to relinquishhis booty.
"Oh, how could you do such a thing?" she wailed brokenly. "You knew howI prized them--the one gift of my husband's which I valued."
"Your husband's!" snarled Raymond. "Which husband? Carmac?"
<
br /> She flinched as if he had dealt her the blow intended for Tollemache;but her champion was in no mind to permit a discomfited rogue to venthis spleen on a woman.
"Unless you're a bigger fool than you are unquestionably a knave, you'llhold your tongue," he said, speaking with a vehemence that silencedRaymond for the moment. "Now let us have no more humbug. I don't want tohurt you. Where are the other articles? Either give them up yourself ortell me where to find them."
Though quivering with passion, the detected thief apparently realizedthat he had nothing to gain by further pretense. From the left-handouter pocket of his jacket he took two cases similar in size andmaterial to that which held the pearls, though the color of the leatherdiffered in each instance. He ignored Tollemache, and gave them to Mrs.Carmac. Even in that supreme instant his brazen nerve did not fail him.
"This dispute really affects you and me," he said. "I suggest that youdiscuss it with me privately."
"At present, Raymond, I would call your attention to the fact that youare discussing things with me," said Tollemache firmly. "Mrs. Carmac,"he went on, "kindly glance through your belongings, and tell me if thereis anything missing."
She obeyed, though in a pitiable state of nervousness. In the cold,clear light of a December day, diamonds and rubies, sapphires andemeralds, winked at her evilly as her trembling fingers turned over thecontents of the cases, which had evidently been extracted from a largerreceptacle so that they might be disposed of in Raymond's clothingwithout attracting attention by their bulk.
"Yes," she faltered, "I believe that every article is here."
* * * * *
"Now," said Tollemache, turning again to the ashen-faced Raymond, "I'veproved my charge in the presence of witnesses. The stolen goods havebeen found in your possession. I admit that it is sheer good luck alonethat swung the investigation my way. Had you been searched tonight, wemight have whistled for the actual proof, because Mrs. Carmac's propertywould have been lying beneath the sea on the reef, unless it happened tobe picked up by the diver. The facts are simple. You were with Mrs.Carmac in the deck saloon of the Stella during the gale. When Mr. Carmacshouted to his wife that the yacht had broken down, and would be dashedashore within ten minutes, Mrs. Carmac fainted. Neither you nor anyoneon board realized that the vessel would strike on Les Verres and not onthe coast.
"Being a thief in heart, you remembered that a small fortune was lyingin those two boxes, and you thought you had plenty of time to open them,secure both the money and the jewels, and trust to luck for escape whenthe yacht was wrecked. If either of your employers was saved, andinquiry seemed possible, you had the plausible excuse that you weresafeguarding the most valuable part of their property. You might havefound some difficulty in explaining how you came to be in possession ofduplicate keys; but you took the chance. I must say that for a man atthe very gates of death you displayed a cool nerve which might commandadmiration if applied to a worthy object.
"As it happened, there was one man who kept an eye on you. Jackson herewas below at the time, preparing tea. The sudden racing of the engines,the stoppage of the screw, and the fact that the yacht was drifting toldhim what had occurred. Then he heard the cry, 'All hands on deck!' andwas himself running along the gangway when he saw you rush down the maincompanion and dart into the cabin occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Carmac.Thinking you might need his help, he followed you.
"By the time he reached the door you had Mrs. Carmac's box open, and hadsnatched the jewelcase, which, being locked, you stuffed into a breastpocket. Then you turned to Mr. Carmac's trunk, and were about to inserta key, when the yacht struck, and fell on her beam ends. The heavy trunkrolled on top of you, and broke your arm. Jackson thought you werekilled; but in the same instant he was flung across the lower saloon,and had his ankle dislocated. When he was lying there you managed tocrawl in and join him, and each of you was carried out by the crewlater. Is that the correct story, Jackson?"
"True as the Gospel, every word, s'elp me!" said Jackson.
"So you see, Raymond, this poor fellow didn't know what to think duringthe last few days. He couldn't swear that you actually took the case,because you were kneeling beside the box, and your back was toward him.But you took something, and until the search was made and the robberydiscovered he could not be certain what it was. He had his suspicions,but wisely kept a still tongue; though, had he left Pont Aven earlier,he meant to tell me what he had seen. Last night he and Captain Poppleand I reviewed the facts carefully. In the first instance, we believedthat you meant to drop the jewels overboard today, and then cause acareful search to be made in that exact place. I know why you werewilling to relinquish your loot. I'll deal with that side of a nastybusiness in a minute or two. Secondly, I called on Dr. Garnier earlythis morning, and both he and the nurse assured me that, notwithstandingthe physical agony you were suffering when brought ashore, you insistedon removing your coat yourself, placed it on a chair, and stipulatedthat your clothes should not be touched by anyone. Of course I had to doa bit of guessing; but I guessed right."
* * * * *
Yvonne, now that the shock of an extraordinary and painful scene wasyielding to a sense of its paramount importance in view of Raymond'sprevious attitude, was gazing at Tollemache with new wonder in her eyes.The light-hearted, happy-go-lucky dabbler in art had conducted thisremarkable investigation into a crime with the easy assurance of askilled lawyer. He had marshaled his facts lucidly. He had decided onthe one method that would insure complete success, and had adopted itwithout hesitation. Each trenchant sentence had a sledge-hammer effecton the culprit, who saw his inmost thoughts laid bare mercilessly, yetin a manner wholly devoid of heat or bluster. She could not find it inher heart to pity Raymond; but she was aware, for the first time in herlife, of a species of awe with regard to Tollemache.
The man who was judge and jury and prosecuting counsel in this new andthrilling form of criminal procedure had not, however, reached the endof his brief. He nodded to Popple and Jackson.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "We've carried that job almost to a finishwithout a hitch. I'll join you on the terrace when Mrs. Carmac hassettled matters with this chap."
Raymond made one last effort to assert himself. "I have not interferedwith your stage effect," he sneered. "It was not necessary. I shallexplain to Mrs. Carmac, and to none other, why her jewels came to be inmy care."
"Don't think it!" said Lorry, smiling pleasantly into the vengeful faceraised to his. "I'm not through with you yet. You're dealing with a mannow, not with a terrified woman. So long, you two! I'll soon make an endof our unworthy secretary!"
The two men saluted silently and went out.
* * * * *
When the door had closed on them Tollemache drew some sheets ofmanuscript from a pocket.
"You've heard the evidence and verdict, Raymond," he said, piercing thedefeated schemer with unwavering eyes. "Now I shall proceed to passsentence. I have jotted down here a full confession. In return for myclemency you will undertake never to interfere in any way with regard toMrs. Carmac's second marriage. You understand exactly what I mean. Youand I both know why you were giving up to the vagaries of the seathousands of pounds' worth of pearls and diamonds.
"This bargain is between you and me. Mrs. Carmac herself is not a partyto it. I return her jewels, and she asks no questions. So long as youhold your tongue, and leave her in peace, she will ignore the facts Ihave made known this morning. Breathe one syllable affecting her privateaffairs, whether today, or next year, or in twenty years, and yoursigned confession of the theft is handed over to the proper authorities.You need not hope to extricate yourself by appeals or threats. Your fatedoesn't rest with Mrs. Carmac, but with me, and if the occasion arisesI'll crush you as I would a scorpion. Sit down, if you're tired, or feelfaint. But keep your wits active.
"It's now or never for you! You either agree or go to jail, and
if youchoose the latter course, you'll find French law devilish unpleasant toany scoundrel who tries to bolster up his offense by trading on awoman's bygone history."
CHAPTER XIV
A BRETON RECKONING
Raymond squirmed, but signed the confession. Tollemache forced thebelief that he was in deadly earnest. The blackmailer had either toaccept the proffered terms or concoct schemes of reprisal in a cell. Atthe last moment Mrs. Carmac intervened.
"I know what it means to be tempted, and to yield," she said sadly,realizing now that her own somewhat checkered record was not hidden fromanyone in that room. "You, Mr. Raymond, have only yourself to blame foryour misfortunes. Even your physical injury is the direct outcome of anattempt to steal the few trinkets I prize. But I would never forgivemyself if I turned you out into the world penniless and suffering.Please tell me the truth. Have you any money?"
"Very little," came the sullen answer. "I have spent a good deal duringthe last few days."
"But how?" she cried, genuinely surprised. "You are under no expensehere."
"Since candor is in the air, I may as well acquaint you with the facts,"said Raymond bitterly. "You blurted out your own secret, and I thought Isaw a way of improving my position. I should have won too if it were notfor a piece of cursed ill luck in the finding of those boxes. I employedDuquesne to ferret out your early history in Paris. If I disappear, youhad better pay him well, or he may take it into his head to go to RupertFosdyke with the story. Of course I don't expect you to place muchcredence in anything I say; but mere commonsense should show you thatthe only safe course is to send me to Paris with sufficient means tosecure Duquesne's silence. That is a fair offer. Take it or leave it, asyou will. Let me point out, however, that the Madeleine Demoret affairsupplies a reasonable excuse for my journey, and, if you are as generousas you can afford to be, I promise to devote myself wholly to the taskof diverting any suspicions Duquesne may have formed as to the motivebehind my previous instructions."
Tollemache, with a wisdom beyond his years, seemed to know when tostrike and when to hold his hand. Raymond's suggestion was eminentlyreasonable. The evil spirit that had raised all this commotion couldbest allay it.
"Come, Yvonne," he said. "Let us leave Mrs. Carmac to determine thismatter as she thinks fit. I offer no opinion. Mrs. Carmac has notcompounded a felony,--that responsibility rests with me,--and, if shechooses to employ Raymond in a personal undertaking, I cannot interfere.He knows the penalty if she is troubled by any future act of his. I'llhunt him round the globe!"
* * * * *
Yvonne never knew what terms her mother made with Raymond. That they didnot err on the side of parsimony may be taken for granted. Long afterthe tornado that swept through Pont Aven that Christmastide wasforgotten by all save a few, the ex-secretary was able to buy a share inan automobile agency.
Lorry was hugely amused as the two descended the stairs. "Socratesbelieves there isn't any guile in my composition," he grinned. "I wonderwhat he'll say when he reads the screed to which that beauty has justput his left-handed signature?"
"Dad will agree with me that you carried a very difficult matter throughwith great skill, Lorry," said Yvonne.
"But the joke is that if Raymond stuck to his guns I was done for. Whocares tuppence whether a skunk like him goes to prison or not? Not asoul! But the whole press of Europe would stand up on its hind legs androar if the Carmac millions were thrown into the melting pot of the lawcourts. Don't you see, Yvonne, I had to rush Raymond off his feet. I'vebroken about twenty statutes made and provided. If he had shown onequarter the nerve in that room which he displayed when the Stella wasdrifting on to the reef, he could have laughed at me."
"For all that, Lorry, you were very clever, and I think you're a dear,"said Yvonne quietly.
Neither her father nor her lover should ever be told now of the sordidcompact that Raymond had put before her during that memorable walk bythe side of the Aven. She would simply erase the hateful record from hermind; but she could not close her eyes to the certain fact thatRaymond's daring project had shriveled into nothingness because he sawthat, no matter what the consequences, Mrs. Carmac's daughter wouldnever marry a common thief. That phase had passed like the stupor of anightmare. The vital problem presented by her mother's future remainedinsoluble as ever.
* * * * *
In the crowded Place they met Peridot. There was no chance of avoidinghim: he had seen them leaving the annex. Before they could join Poppleand Jackson beneath the sycamores the fisherman barred the way, cap inhand.
"Pardon, Ma'mselle," he said, speaking with a civility that hardlymasked a note of defiance, "have you any news of Madeleine?"
"Nothing definite, nothing reliable," she answered, striving valiantlyto convey the impression that the mystery of Madeleine's whereaboutswould soon be cleared up satisfactorily.
"Nothing that you would care to tell, Ma'mselle--is that it?"
"No, Peridot. Madeleine said she was going to Quimperle; but I haveheard that she is in Paris. That is all I know--probably all that anyonein Pont Aven knows."
She had flushed under the fisherman's penetrating, scornful gaze notbecause of the effort to conceal a scanty budget concerning her wilfulfriend's flight, but out of sheer sympathy with the man, whom she knewto be consumed with wrath and shame.
"Then I shall be justified in killing any man who calls her a strumpet?"went on Peridot icily. He had used a Breton word which Tollemache didnot understand, but Yvonne's gasp of horror was eloquent, and Lorry cameto the rescue.
"You must have taken leave of your senses, Peridot, to addressMademoiselle Yvonne in that manner," he said.
The fisherman spat, an unprecedented thing. "_Gars!_" he growled. "Takenleave of my senses, have I? I'd like to see you if your girl had boltedwith the first well dressed dandy who made eyes at her. Scratch aRussian and you find a Tatar, they say. Scratch Monsieur Tollemache andyou might find--Peridot!"
With that he left them, swaggering off among the throng of peasants asthough he had not a care in the world. Yvonne's troubled glance followedhim. Here was a new Peridot, a man out of whose life was fled thelight-hearted gaiety and spirit of good-fellowship that had made him sopopular in the village. No sooner, it would seem, was one clouddispelled than another gathered. Yvonne shuddered with foreboding; forin those gray-green eyes she had seen the lurid light of a volcano.
* * * * *
During some days peace reigned in that small circle of a small communitywith which this chronicle has dealt so intimately. Mrs. Carmac did nothurry her departure. She promised Yvonne that on arriving in Londonshe would consult Bennett as to her exact position. She neitheraffirmed nor denied that Walter Carmac had renewed his Americancitizenship. Ingersoll, when the girl brought a faithful record of thediscussion between her mother and herself, drew the only reasonableinference,--that no steps had been taken in that direction. Theknowledge was disheartening. Not without cause did he say to Tollemachethat he had fathomed his wife's nature to the depths. Were it possiblefor her to end her days in real communion with the husband and child shehad forsaken deliberately, she would gladly have renounced wealth andsocial position. As it was, she meant to cling fiercely to the bulk ofher possessions, thinking that thereby she would have a stronger hold onYvonne, since she hoped to draw the girl nearer by the lure that moneyalone could spread so enticingly.
Undoubtedly she had it in mind to provide ample revenues for the Fosdykefamily, with guarantees of large interests in the estate at her death,and thus close the only source that threatened discredit and loss. Butthis was the half-measure that so often spells disaster. Its outcome layin the lap of the gods, and the gods were frowning on her.
Meanwhile she lingered on in Pont Aven. The equable climate suited herhealth, she said. She dreaded the formalities with regard to thesuccession, and wa
nted to leave all such disagreeable details to thelawyers. Until Madeleine Demoret's affair was settled she wished toremain within call of Paris. These were excuses. They deceived none,Yvonne least of any. The girl's affection never wavered for an instantwhen the interests of father and mother were at war. Her father couldnot be at ease until the woman who had broken his life was far from thevillage, and the daughter was on pins and needles of anxiety that themother should depart.
* * * * *
Raymond--suddenly reverted to type, become once more the discreet,unobtrusive secretary--reported that Madeleine and Fosdyke seemed tohave quarreled. He had visited the girl, and found her uncommunicativeand rebellious. Fosdyke had gone to England. He supplied Madeleine'saddress, and Yvonne wrote, in friendly and sympathetic strain, askingfor news of her welfare. By this time Ingersoll had advised thecessation of any effort to persuade her to return. It was not in humannature to expect the girl to endure the slights that would inevitablyattend her reappearance. To her Pont Aven must henceforth be a sealedParadise. If ever she saw the place again, she would tread its familiarways a stranger and unregarded.
At last came a letter from Madeleine herself. Its tone was honest, andvery much to the point. She had imagined that Rupert Fosdyke meantmarriage. When she was disillusioned she spurned him, and had obtained asituation as a nurse, her country speech and Breton costume beingpassports to ready employment. It was better so. Paris takes a morelenient view of certain aspects of life than Pont Aven.
* * * * *
Singularly enough, during those days no word of love was spoken betweenTollemache and Yvonne. The mine was laid, and the smallest spark wouldfire it; but the spark was not forthcoming, and for the excellent reasonthat Lorry wished Mrs. Carmac and her millions far away before he askedYvonne to marry him. If, in some distant time, the girl's motherinsisted on enriching her, it would be difficult to defeat her intent.But it was Yvonne he wanted, not Mrs. Carmac's money. He was moreattached to Ingersoll than to his own father, a narrow-minded Philistinewho had cut himself adrift from a son because the ingrate preferred artto money spinning.
If once he and Yvonne were wed, Mrs. Carmac's ambitious schemes inbehalf of her beautiful "niece" would go by the board. Circumstances hadmade it impossible that father and mother should meet, even at theirdaughter's wedding--and where could such a marriage take place but inPont Aven, and who should spread the wedding feast but Mere Pitou?
So Lorry bided his time; though Yvonne read him like a book, and theknowledge that her mother's continued residence in the village aloneprevented Lorry from taking her in a bearlike grip and telling her thatshe was the one woman he had ever loved, or ever would love, gave activereinforcement to her anxiety concerning her father, whose well-being,she was convinced, depended on the prompt and complete restoration oflife to its normal plane.
Thus, when preparations were being made by Mere Pitou for theReveillon--that cheerful feast which enlivens the midnight ofChristmas--Yvonne did not hesitate to tell her mother that on thatoccasion at least they would see little of each other, and perhaps lessin the immediate future, as she was going with her father to Concarneau.
Mrs. Carmac took the hint gracefully. As a preliminary she sent CaptainPopple and Jackson to England; the one to become a sort of factotum inher Surrey house, the other to join the staff in her Charles Streetresidence.
"Ask your father, as a last concession, to allow you to travel with meas far as St. Malo when I leave on the twenty-sixth," she said. "It willbe a long and weary journey otherwise. Have you a friend who canaccompany you? You would need to stay one night in St. Malo and returnhere next day."
Ingersoll did not demur. It was arranged that Barbe should go withYvonne; so one heart, at least, rejoiced, since the mere prospect ofsuch an outing brought untold joy to a little maid who regarded St. Maloas a place so unutterably remote that it figured in her mind only as ageographical expression somewhat akin to Timbuktu and the North Cape ofLapland.
* * * * *
Yvonne left her mother about four o'clock on Christmas Eve. Tollemachewas waiting for her, and together they strolled to the cottage. Therewas much to be done, because Mere Pitou expected a large party. Peridot,though specially invited, had refused to come. Indeed, his manner was sogruff that Barbe, who acted as messenger, was moved to tears whilerelating the reception accorded her.
"_Tcha!_" snorted her mother. "That's a man's way, all over. When awoman gives him the slip he'll sulk and paw the ground like an angrybull for a week or so. Then he'll drown his sorrows in cognac, and atthe next _Pardon_ you'll see him squaring up to some pretty girl as ifthe other one had never existed. What about that sardine boat which theAmerican lady promised him? That should widen his mouth when it reachesthe quay."
Mere Pitou never alluded to Mrs. Carmac by name. To a Frenchwoman theword presented no difficulty; but, owing to some whim, Yvonne's "aunt"was "the American lady," and was never promoted to greater intimacy ofdescription in the old woman's speech.
"The vessel is ordered in Concarneau," said Yvonne. "With completeequipment it is to cost five thousand francs. Mrs. Carmac has also givenanother five thousand francs to the notary to be invested for Peridot;who is well aware of both gifts, but has neither called nor written toexpress his thanks."
"The worm!" cried Madame. "_Peridot_, indeed! He ought to be christened_Asticot_!"
As an _asticot_ is a maggot, it was well that none but Yvonne hadoverheard Mere Pitou's biting comment, or the fisherman's new nicknamemight have stuck, its point being specially appreciable in a fishingcommunity.
* * * * *
The weather that night was peculiarly calm and mild, even for SouthernBrittany. Shortly after midnight Ingersoll, who had been watching Yvonneand Tollemache dancing the gavotte, in which the girl was an adept, andher lover a sufficiently skilful partner to show off her graceful stepsto the utmost advantage, suddenly decided to smoke a cigar in the openair.
He quitted the studio by a French window, and strolled into the garden,which stretched some little way up the steep slope of the hill, andthrough a narrow strip toward the road on one side of the cottage. Owingto the feast, Pont Aven was by no means asleep; but the streets wereempty, as the people were either entertaining or being entertained. In ahouse near the church a girl was singing the "_Adeste fideles_" in ahigh, pure treble. Those in her company, men, women, and children, burstinto the harmonious chorus, "_Venite, adoremus; venite adoremus inBethlehem._" As the appeal swelled and then died away, and the girl'svoice took up the solo, Ingersoll remembered the verse, "And suddenlythere was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God,"and his eyes grew dim with unshed tears.
The hymn ceased. From some more distant gathering came the strumming ofa banjo in the latest Boulevard refrain. Ingersoll smiled at that. Notoften might any man hear twenty centuries summed up so concisely. He wasabout to reenter the cottage when a woman, hatless, but with head andface veiled in a shawl of black lace, appeared indistinctly in theroadway. He knew instantly that it was his wife. Only two women in PontAven walked with such ease and elegance, and they were Yvonne and hermother.
A second later he heard the familiar creak of the garden gate. So shewas coming in! He was utterly at a loss to account for this amazingintrusion. He had counted implicitly on his wife's sense of goodbreeding and fairness restraining her from any frenzied effort to undothe havoc of the past, and a spasm of anger shook him now because ofthis threatened invasion of his small domain. At any rate she should nothave the hysterical satisfaction of placing him in a false positionbefore Mere Pitou and her guests, to say nothing of Yvonne andTollemache.
He retreated into the deep shadow of a lofty retaining wall, whence hecould see without being seen. If, as he expected, there was a commotionamong the dancers when the unexpected visitor was announced, he wouldescape by way of the open hill
side, and remain away during some hours.Then, in the morning, Yvonne and he would end an intolerable state ofthings by leaving Pont Aven for some unknown refuge until Lorry toldthem that the coast was clear.
Thus do some men plan when beset by some unforeseen difficulty. Be theywise or foolish, they seldom learn that in those crucial moments of lifewhen events of real importance take place they are as straws caught in awhirlpool, and no more capable than straws of predetermined governanceof their deeds and movements.
Ingersoll was barely hidden before he received a fresh surprise. Hiswife had not gone to the door. She was in the garden, and coming roundto the back evidently meaning to look in on the revelers and remainunseen. She halted but a few paces short of the place where Ingersollwas standing, and soon he knew that she was crying in a heartbroken way.Her very attitude, the care she took to restrain the sounds of hergrief, and not become visible to any eye that chanced to look outthrough the open window, showed that she was in the depths of despair.By a rapid revulsion of feeling the man's heart ached for her. Strive ashe might, and strong as were the dictates of the social laws that closedand bolted the door of reconciliation, he was tempted, or it may bedivinely inspired, to make known his presence, and utter words ofhealing and forgiveness.
But the opportunity, no less than the impulse, passed as quickly as ithad risen.
The dancing had stopped. Evidently in response to some question ofYvonne's, Tollemache came to the window, and peered out.
"Ingersoll!" he cried.
There was no answer. The artist could not be detected in any event, andthe change from a well lighted room to the external darkness temporarilyblinded Lorry's sharp eyes, or he might have noted the slight, shrinkingfigure beneath one of the apple trees.
"He's not there," he said, speaking over his shoulder to Yvonne.
The girl came nearer. "I saw him go out," she persisted.
"Yes, of course. I saw him too. He stopped to light a cigar. Bet youhe's gone for a stroll. You remember last year at this time he went toJulia's for half an hour."
That was an unfortunate recollection on Lorry's part. He was aware of itinstantly; but Yvonne helped to slur it over by saying that she had nodoubt "Dad" would soon return. Then the two rejoined their Bretonfriends.
* * * * *
Mrs. Carmac clearly meant to take no further risk of discovery. Shehurried away. After a momentary indecision Ingersoll followed. Hisaction was inexplicable, even to himself. It arose, perhaps, from adesire to make certain that his wife reached the hotel. Such a motivewas at least comprehensible. It came within the bounds of thatintelligence which regulates ordinary human affairs. But there isanother subtler spirit essence which sends out through space itsimpalpable, invisible, yet compelling influences. Sometimes thestorm-tossed soul makes silent appeal for help, and finds response insome other heart whence aid is unsought and unsuspected.
Howsoever that may be, John Ingersoll followed his wife, and Pont Avenwas soon in an uproar, when the news spread that while MonsieurIngersoll was rescuing _l'Americaine_, Madame Carmac, from the waters ofthe harbor, Peridot, easygoing, devil-may-care Peridot, was batteringRupert Fosdyke into a hardly recognizable corpse on the open road nearthe hotel.
* * * * *
In a village rumor of that sort seldom lies. Both these sensationalstatements were true; though the one became widely known far morespeedily than the other. In fact, Peridot's crime had witnesses. A partyof villagers, coming down the Toulifot, heard voices raised inaltercation. Then there were sounds of a scuffle, and a tall man wasseen to fall, while a shorter man stooped over the prostrate body andstruck blow after blow with an iron belaying pin.
The women screamed; the men ran forward to seize the would-be murderer.He offered no resistance, but said calmly:
"When one meets a viper one batters its head. It is the only safe thingto do, eh?"
He seemed to find comfort in the thought. He repeated it many times, inone form or another. When the police came, and a sergeant who happenedto be a great friend of his had the miserable task of arresting him andcharging him with murder,--for Rupert Fosdyke was dead; would have diedunder any one of those half-dozen fiercely vindictive blows,--Peridotwas quite cheerful.
"_Cre nom!_" he cried. "It is not often one finds a snake hereabouts atChristmastime. This one made a mistake. It shouldn't have come to PontAven, where we wear stout sabots!"
Then he broke gaily into one of Albert Larrieu's Breton songs:
"_Toc! toc! toc! toc! C'est a Concarneau Qu'on voit de belles filles, Prestes et gentilles, Dans leur petits sabots!_"
"Shut up, Peridot, for the sake of the good God!" muttered his friend."Come, Man! There's your mother looking out. She heard your voice!"
"Is that you, Jean Jacques?" came a shrill cry from a bent figure etchedin the lighted rectangle of an open door in a cottage higher up thehill. "Time you were home and in bed!"
"Don't worry, Mother, I'm in good company," he shouted. "Here is the lawon one side of me, and a dead viper on the other! I'll go straighttonight, never fear!"
Mere Larraidou saw her son walk off down the hill with his friend thesergeant. In pity the men who were lifting a corpse desisted from theirgruesome labor till the door was closed again.
* * * * *
When Ingersoll carried the body of an insensible and half-drowned womaninto Mere Pitou's there was a rare stir.
By chance the lesser tragedy which took place in the river beneath theline of dwarfed oaks had passed unnoticed by the villagers. Greatlywondering, and wholly at a loss to account for his wife's behavior, theartist had followed her into the main road, and kept her under closeobservation when she failed to cross the bridge and hurried along thenarrow street leading to the harbor.
Once clear of the last mill, he could watch her from a greater distance,because the valley widens with the stream, and the hills are neither sohigh nor so precipitous. On and on she went, past Madame Marechale'scafe, past the triangular grass plot where roundabouts and swings andcanvas theaters stand in the summer, past the jolly little HotelTerminus, and along the picturesque Chemin du Hallage; which is not acarriage road, but a pleasant footpath, bordered on the one hand bypretty villas and on the other by the tidal stream, with here and therebeneath the stunted trees a rustic seat overlooking the water.
At such an hour, long after midnight, the last pollard oak marks theUltima Thule of Pont Aven. The nearest house in front is nearly a mileaway, and reached only by a narrow track through the gorse.
Some vague terror caused Ingersoll to quicken his pace, and a fewseconds later to break into a run. Perhaps his wife heard him, and,fearing interference, made up her mind to delay the great adventure nota moment longer. Uttering a wailing cry, she threw herself into thewater. The tide was falling, and as the main stream travels close to theright bank at that point she was swept away as though some giant handwere waiting to clutch her.
Commending his soul to Heaven, Ingersoll raced ahead to a rocky plateauwhich, although submerged now, drove a broad and fairly level causewayfar into the center of the river. He was just in time. He saw a whiteface, a hand, whirling in the current. Plunging in, he graspeddesperately at the place where he judged the body might be. Then began afight, a life and death struggle against a relentless, overwhelmingforce. Yet somehow he conquered, and found himself with a limp body inhis arms, wading knee deep in a tract of mud and slime.
Though slightly built and frail looking, and, owing to the worry andconfinement of his recent life, rather out of condition, once he hadregained his breath he made light of carrying his wife to the cottage.
He could not tell why he brought her there, rather than to the hotel. Heremembered afterward giving the matter some thought; but he was eitherdeterred by the sight of so many people in the Place,--
brought thitherby the affrighting news of murder,--or by the notion that a furtherscandal might be averted if the unhappy woman were tended by those whomhe and she could trust. None of Mere Pitou's guests knew that Mrs.Carmac had been rescued from the estuary. They thought she had mistakensome byway, and fallen into the Aven, a quite possible accident to astranger on a dark night.
* * * * *
So a second time Yvonne stripped her mother's slender form of itswater-soaked garments, while Mere Pitou loudly invoked the aid andcommiseration of various saints--but did not forget to fill hot-waterbottles and wrap them in flannel before applying them to the unconsciouswoman's benumbed body and feet. Dr. Garnier came, and shook his head,muttering of "shock," and "derangement of the nervous system," and inthe midst of all this turmoil and furtive fear of the worst consequencesarrived Celeste, searching for her mistress, and almost incoherent withher story of Rupert Fosdyke's fate. He had arrived in the village by thehalf-past four train that afternoon, and after a long talk with Madamehad dined alone. She was told that he went out shortly before midnight,and met Peridot, and was straightway beaten to death.
After some hours of horrible uncertainty Mrs. Carmac recoveredsufficiently to speak.
"Where am I?" she muttered, staring about wildly.
"At home, Dear, with me," whispered Yvonne.
The dazed eyes slowly gathered consciousness of Yvonne's presence. "Whotook me out of the river?" she went on.
"The man who has loved you all his life, Dear," said the girl softly.She had the fixed belief now that her mother would surely die, and wasresolved that her last hours should be made happy by knowledge of herhusband's devotion.
"What! John saved me! Was it he who followed me?"
"Yes, Dear. He risked his life for your sake, and carried you hereunaided."
"A good man," came the low murmur. "I was not worthy of him."
"Mother, you are to try and sleep now. The doctor's orders must beobeyed. Otherwise you will be very, very ill."
"I am sick unto death already, dear one. But I shall do as you bid--toplease you--and John. One word! Tell him--tell him--that I am poorerthan when I left him. Rupert is here. He gloated over my downfall. Heknows everything, and would hear of no terms. No, it is not Raymond'sdoing. I asked that. He met some man, who knew us in the old days, andwho had read the account of the wreck. I am a pauper of sorts, Yvonne.Please ask your father not to turn me out."
"Mother!" wailed the girl in a voice strangled with grief. "You must nottalk like that! You'll break my heart!"
"Ah, _tout passe_, Yvonne, even broken hearts! You will be far happierin your cottage than ever I was in a mansion. Yes, I'll sleep--if onlyto please you--and John. Tell him I said that, will you?"
* * * * *
Next morning Ingersoll, who, thanks to the exertion demanded after theplunge into the river, was not one whit the worse for the wetting, sentthe following telegram to Bennett:
"Rupert Fosdyke met his death here last night, and Mrs. Carmac was nearly drowned. Both events closely bound up with succession to Carmac estate. Probably you will understand. Can you come at once?--INGERSOLL."
That afternoon came the reply:
"Profoundly distressed. Crossing tonight. Wire reports concerning Mrs. Carmac's health Southampton and St. Malo.
"BENNETT."
Yvonne wept with sheer gratitude when her father said that, with Dr.Garnier's permission, he would visit her mother. She had not dared tosuggest it; but Ingersoll knew that his action had added one more linkto the chain of love that bound his daughter and himself. Dr. Garnier,of course, was aware of no reason why the woman should not meet herrescuer; though he might have been startled had he seen the look ofterror that darkened her eyes when she found her husband bending overher.
"Don't be afraid, Stella," said he. "I am not here to reproach you. Becontent, and live! We want you to live, Yvonne and I."
"John, forgive!" she murmured.
"I do forgive, Stella, as I hope to be forgiven!"
"John, how could I have left you?"
"That is all passed now--merged in the mists of long years. You will bemade happy here. I mean what I say. You are in Yvonne's care, and inmine, and always in God's. Believe that, and you will soon be restoredto health and to such happiness as life can bring."
She sobbed convulsively, and he called Yvonne in haste, thinking thatperhaps he had done more harm than good. However, the invalid ralliedafter he had gone, and seemed to gain strength, though slowly. Next dayshe was wracked by the first symptoms of pneumonia.
When Bennett arrived she was conscious and free from pain. He had notbeen seated by the bedside many minutes before he put a curiousquestion.
"Do you feel able to sign a will?" he said.
She smiled wistfully. "Have you not been told?" she said. "I shall loseeverything. My second marriage can be proved illegal."
"I am not quite sure of that. I only want you to pull through thispresent illness. But it is well to prepare against all eventualities.Would you wish to constitute your daughter your sole heiress?"
She was beyond the reach of surprise, and contented herself with afervent yes.
"I have prepared the necessary documents. Listen now, while I read," andthe woman's weary, puzzled eyes dwelt on the lawyer's grave face as herecited the testamentary clauses by which "Stella Ingersoll, otherwiseknown as Stella Carmac," left all her real and personal estate to "herdaughter, Yvonne Ingersoll."
"Now we'll get witnesses, and remember that you sign your name StellaIngersoll," said the lawyer, with a cheerful and businesslike air. "Mr.Tollemache will be one witness, my clerk another, and little Barbe Pitoua third; so you need not worry at all because of the change ofsignature."
Forthwith, in the presence of Lorry and Bennett's clerk, and the scaredBarbe, Mrs. Carmac signed her name in a way that was strangely familiar,though she had not seen it written that way during two decades. Aprecisely similar will was executed in the name of "Stella Carmac."
* * * * *
Bennett had not erred in his judgment. The pneumonia developed a hightemperature that night, and Yvonne's mother died without recoveringconsciousness. She was buried at Nizon. To silence gossip, and by herhusband's emphatic wish, she was described on the monument erected toher memory and to that of Walter Carmac as "Stella, wife of theabove-named Walter Carmac, and formerly known as Stella Ingersoll."
The lawyer's extraordinary haste and anxiety with regard to the twowills was explained after the funeral.
"I have always had reason to believe that the validity of the marriagemight be questioned," he said, when he had drawn Ingersoll, Yvonne, andTollemache into the privacy of the studio. "When Mr. Carmac executed thewill which may now, under advice, be set aside, he caused two copies tobe made with blank spaces for names and dates. A few days later helodged a sealed envelope with me and another with his bankers, and eachbore the superscription:
"'This document is to be kept always in its present condition, and never opened unless my wife's succession to my estate shall be disputed. In that event the document must be produced and acted on.'
"I broke the seal yesterday, soon after Mr. Ingersoll's telegram came tohand, and was not surprised to find a will, properly filled in, signed,and attested, leaving Carmac's estate to 'Stella Ingersoll, formerlywife of John Ingersoll, artist, at one time resident in the Rue Blanche,Paris,' and dated subsequently to that already in existence. So, yousee, all these tragic happenings might have been averted. Rupert Fosdykecould never have touched a penny of his uncle's money beyond theprovision made for him in both wills."
But a white-faced girl looked at her father, and their eyes met, andeach knew that a Power not to be controlled by any human agency hadbrought about the horrors that had agitated their beloved village duringthat memorable month.
* * * * *
And, when the clouds disappeared, and the sun shone on a Brittany pinkwith apple blossom, Yvonne herself had to ask that absurd fellow Lorrywhether or not he really wanted to marry her, because he was hangingback shamefacedly, for no better reason apparently than the ridiculousone that he had no right to woo and wed a girl so rich as she. At leastif she didn't exactly say "Will you marry me?" she did the next thing toit by telling him that she and her father had decided to regardthemselves merely as trustees of the Carmac millions for the benefit oftheir fellows. They would touch little, if any, of the money forpersonal needs. The notion was thoroughly distasteful to both, and theywould help each other to find the best and wisest means of getting ridof the incubus.
"So, you see, Lorry, with the exception of some of my mother's jewelry,which I know she would wish me to keep and wear, I shall be quite poor,"said Yvonne demurely.
That settled matters completely. They were in a secluded part of theBois d'Amour. How could locality be better named? The wedding took placebefore the summer, and they roamed through Switzerland in June.
* * * * *
Madeleine? Madeleine is a certificated nurse in a big Paris hospital,very smart in her nice uniform, and thoroughly devoted to herprofession.
Peridot? What French jury would convict Peridot of murder when his storywas told? His advocate almost moved the judge to righteous indignationagainst the iniquitous Fosdyke, and Peridot was let off with a lightsentence. He came back to Pont Aven, was received with open arms by thevillage, and sailed away in his own _vague_ to pursue the elusivesardine. Last year he married little Barbe. So Mere Pitou's views anentfishermen as husbands must have been modified by Peridot's ownership ofa fine boat and good money invested in French rentes.
Pont Aven, save for the riotous month of August, is still unchanged. Anew house springs up here and there, and rumor has it that sometimesoon, maybe when the gorse is in flower next summer, a new launch willreplace the old one which has to be coaxed daily to Port Manech and backduring the season.
But that is all--nothing to make a song about. Mademoiselle Julia, everbusy, growing younger each year, still cracks jokes and encourages art;though, to be sure, her opinion of cubism and futurist pictures isdistinctly unfavorable to both forms of excess. She is always ready witha smile and the right word. If, for instance, anyone asks her if sheknew Yvonne, and Ingersoll, and Lorry, and where Mere Pitou's cottagestands, you should see the way she jerks her head on one side, and hearher rattle out, with a merry twinkle in her eyes:
"_Qu'est-ce que tu veux que je te dise, moi?_"
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