Читать книгу Sir Isumbras at the Ford - D. K. Broster - Страница 25

Mr. Elphinstone got up from his memoirs when the Chevalier de la Vireville was shown in to him in the library.

"I am afraid that I am interrupting you, sir," said the émigré. "If so, it shall only be for a moment."

"You are not interrupting me at all," returned the old gentleman pleasantly. "I am very glad to see you, M. de la Vireville; pray sit down. But I thought you had started for Jersey."

"I am just about to do so, sir," said La Vireville, obeying him. "I came to take my leave of you and of Anne."

"The child will indeed be sorry to miss you," observed his grandfather. "He was afraid that he might. He has gone away, quite unexpectedly, upon a visit."

"Tiens!" said La Vireville, surprised; "Anne on a visit! That is something new. May one ask where he is gone?"

"He has gone to compatriots—some old friends of his father's at Canterbury. I am glad that the child should have a change of air, for he has been looking a trifle pale lately, so when my son-in-law's letter came I was glad to pack him off—under Elspeth's charge, of course."

But the Frenchman did not seem to be sharing Mr. Elphinstone's pleasure at the change of air. "Canterbury!" he reiterated sharply. "Canterbury! I did not know that René had friends at Canterbury."

"Nor did I, to tell the truth," confessed Mr. Elphinstone. "I do not think, in fact, that he was aware of it himself till he came across them on his way through Canterbury to Dover the other day."

"On his way to Dover!" repeated the émigré. "But, Mr. Elphinstone, René did not go to Dover! He crossed from Harwich to Germany, of course."

"I think you must be mistaken, sir," replied the old gentleman mildly. "His letter came from Canterbury, at all events. It bears the postmark. But what is wrong then?"

For La Vireville was on his feet, looking very grave. "Have you the letter here?"

Considerably astonished, Mr. Elphinstone took it out of his pocket. "This is what he says: 'I have just met, by chance, two very old friends of my family, who have been living here, it appears, for a couple of years or so—Mme. and Mlle. de Chaulnes. They are very anxious to make Anne's acquaintance, and I have promised them that they should do so as soon as possible. If, therefore, you would send him to Canterbury with Elspeth for a few days on receipt of this, I should be greatly obliged. He would be well looked after.' And enclosed was an invitation from the French lady herself."

La Vireville gave a cry. "It wanted only this! Good God, sir, what have you done? Mme. de Chaulnes—the poor child!" He almost snatched the letter from the old man's astonished hand and took it to the window. "Yes, a very good imitation, though—pardon me—you ought to know your son-in-law's handwriting better . . . Mon Dieu, what a disaster! When did the boy go?"

"Last Wednesday," answered Mr. Elphinstone, looking dazed. "But what in God's name do you mean, M. de la Vireville? He got there safely. I have even had a letter from him to-day in which he speaks of the two kind ladies—see, 'The two old ladies who are very gentle to me'—he means kind, gentil; he often uses that expression—'and their grey cat.' So it is all true, and he is there. . . . I do not understand you."

"Of course he got there safely—would to God he had not!" exclaimed La Vireville in a sort of desperation. "But, all the same, those two kind old ladies are spies in the pay of the Convention. We have only recently discovered it, to our cost. And clever! . . . How did they get their information—know that René was leaving England just at this time, even know the name of Anne's nurse?"

"It must be all right," reiterated Mr. Elphinstone piteously. "No one could have told them but René himself."

"Mr. Elphinstone, I repeat, René never went to Canterbury! I myself set him a mile or two on his way to Harwich. That is the one mistake these women have made, or, it may be, a risk that they deliberately ran, trusting that you would not know the route your son-in-law took—as you did not. As for the rest, there has been treachery somewhere—in the house, almost certainly. . . . I warned René. . . . However, time is too valuable to spend in finding out who sold them information. The more pressing matter is to get the child back before it is too late."

Mr. Elphinstone put his hand to his head. "Too late! . . . I still do not understand. What could they do to him?"

"Anne knows a good many things it were better he did not know, sir. I fear that I am responsible for some of his knowledge. That is no doubt why they wanted him."

"You mean they——"

"They will try to get information out of him. Oh, they will not do him any bodily harm; it would not advantage them; but they may frighten him, le pauvre petit! He will come back to you, sir, never fear"—for the old man had sunk into a chair and had hidden his face—"but I am very much afraid he will leave something behind. They will wheedle secrets out of him, for he knows things—he cannot help but know them."

"What is to be done?" asked Mr. Elphinstone hoarsely, his head still between his hands.

"I think I had best post off to Canterbury instantly. Give me your written authority to bring the child back at once."

"But you—you were going to Jersey . . . and ought you, M. de la Vireville, of all people, to run your head into a nest of spies, as you say they are?"

La Vireville gave a shrug. "That cannot be helped," said he. "Believe me, it will be much more difficult if you send an Englishman. Moreover, it is very necessary that I should discover, if I can, how much they have got out of Anne. Do not set the law in motion unless I neither return to-morrow nor send you news. And—you must pardon me—but I shall want money, possibly a good deal of money."

Mr. Elphinstone pulled himself out of his chair and, going to a safe, began with trembling hands to unlock it.

"I cannot believe that you are right," he said brokenly. "And he had Elspeth—he even took his new goldfish with him."

"Neither Elspeth nor a goldfish, I fear, will serve as a talisman," returned the Frenchman rather grimly, pocketing the notes and gold that the old man pushed into his hands. "These two years that Mme. and Mlle. de Chaulnes, as they call themselves, have lived on the Dover road, professedly as sympathisers with the Royalist cause, they have been the reason of more of our plans miscarrying, more of our agents being betrayed, than any half-dozen of the Convention's male spies put together. You see, they are really of noble birth."

"René says in his letter that they are old friends—but I forget, you say his letter is a forgery."

"As to their having known his family in the past I cannot say," replied La Vireville. "It is possible, since they are renegades. The mischief is, that we have only just found out their treachery. This, I suppose, is a last effort before giving up their trade—in Canterbury at least. Now a line, sir, to authorise me to bring the child back."

Mr. Elphinstone wrote it, scarcely able to control his pen. "God grant you are successful!" he said, as he gave it to the Chouan.

"I will do my best, sir," returned the latter. "I do not want to alarm you unduly, and, on my soul, I think they only wanted Anne for what they could get out of him in the way of information. We shall be the losers by that, not you; and so I hope to bring him back safely in a couple of days at most. In any case, I will write to you from Canterbury to-night. Au revoir!"

He wrung the old man's hand and departed.

If there were any room in any house in London which held at that hour more anguish of soul than Mr. Elphinstone's study, it would have been hard to find it.