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"But what if the son returns?" asked Mombleux.
"Well, most of us want him back, for the old man's getting old," said Fabry; "but perhaps he's dead."
"That might be," agreed Mombleux. "Talouel's so ambitious he'd stop at nothing. He wants to own the place, and he'll get it if he can."
"Yes, and who knows? Maybe he had a hand in keeping M. Edmond away.
Neither of us were here at the time, but you might be sure that Talouel would work out things to his own interests."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"Yes, and at that time he didn't know that there'd be others to take the place of M. Edmond. I'm not sure what he's scheming to get, but it's something big."
"Yes, and he's doing some dirty work for sure, and only think, when he was twenty years old he couldn't write his own name."
Rosalie came into the room at this moment and asked Perrine if she would like to go on an errand with her. Perrine could not refuse. She had finished her dinner some time ago, and if she remained in her corner she would soon awaken their suspicions.
It was a quiet evening. The people sat at their street doors chatting.
After Rosalie had finished her errand she wanted to go from one door to another to gossip, but Perrine had no desire for this, and she excused herself on the plea of being tired. She did not want to go to bed. She just wanted to be alone, to think, in her little room, with the door closed. She wanted to take a clear account of the situation in which she now found herself.
When she heard Fabry and Mombleux speaking of the manager she realized how much she had to fear this man. He had given her to understand that he was the master, and as such it was his right to be informed of all that happened. But all that was nothing compared with what had been revealed to her in the conversation that she had just heard.
She knew that he wished to exercise his authority over everyone. But she had not known that his ambition was to take her grandfather's place some day. This man was scheming to replace the all-powerful master of the Maraucourt factories; for years he had plotted with this object in view.
All this she had just learned. The two men whose conversation she had overheard were in a position to know the facts. And this terrible man, now that she had replaced William, intended that she should spy upon his employer.
What should she do? She was only a little girl, almost a child, and there was no one to protect her. What should she do?
She had asked herself this question before, but under different circ.u.mstances. It was impossible for her to lie down, so nervous and excited was she at what she had heard.
Perhaps this dreadful man had schemed to keep her dear dead father away from his home, and he was still working in an underhanded way for what?
Was he trying to get out of the way the two nephews who would replace his master? If he had the power to do this, what might he not do to her if she refused to spy for him?
She spent the greater part of the night turning these questions over in her little head. At last, tired out with the difficulties which confronted her, she dropped her curly head on the pillow and slept.
CHAPTER XXI
LETTERS FROM DACCA
The first thing that M. Vulfran did upon reaching his office in the morning was to open his mail. Domestic letters were arranged in one pile and foreign letters in another. Since he had gone blind his nephews or Talouel read the French mail aloud to him; the English letters were given to Fabry and the German to Mombleux.
The day following the conversation between Fabry and Mombleux which had caused Perrine so much anxiety, M. Vulfran, his nephews and the manager were occupied with the morning's mail. Suddenly Theodore exclaimed:
"A letter from Dacca, dated May 29."
"In French?" demanded M. Vulfran.
"No, in English."
"What signature?"
"It's not very clear ... looks like Field. Fildes ... preceded by a word that I can't make out. There are four pages. Your name occurs in several places, uncle. Shall I give it to Fabry?"
Simultaneously, Theodore and Talouel cast a quick look at M. Vulfran, but catching each other in this act, which betrayed that each was intensely curious, they both a.s.sumed an indifferent air.
"I'm putting the letter on your table, uncle," said Theodore.
"Give it to me," replied M. Vulfran.
When the stenographer had gone off with the replies to the various letters, M. Vulfran dismissed his manager and his two nephews and rang for Perrine.
She appeared immediately.
"What's in the letter?" he asked.
She took the letter that he handed to her and glanced at it. If he could have seen her he would have noticed that she had turned very pale and that her hands trembled.
"It is an English letter, dated May 29, from Dacca," she replied.
"From whom?"
"From Father Fields."
"What does it say?"
"May I read a few lines first, please ... before I tell you?"
"Yes, but do it quickly."
She tried to do as she was told, but her emotion increased as she read ... the words dancing before her eyes.
"Well?" demanded M. Vulfran, impatiently.
"It is difficult to read," she murmured, "and difficult to understand; the sentences are very long."
"Don't translate literally; just tell me what it is about."
[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE TRIED TO DO AS SHE WAS TOLD, BUT HER EMOTION INCREASED AS SHE READ.]
There was another long pause; at last she said:
"Father Fields says that Father Leclerc, to whom you wrote, is dead, and that before dying he asked him to send this reply to you. He was unable to communicate with you before, as he had some difficulty in getting together the facts that you desired. He excuses himself for writing in English, as his knowledge of French is very slight."
"What information does he send?" asked the blind man.
"I have not come to that yet, sir," replied Perrine.