The Tower of Oblivion Part 72

One moment though. There had been provisions in that basket on the handle-bar. If I myself could clear off during the busy hours of the day and take my omelette at a quiet roadside inn, what was there to prevent their doing the same? She had been "buying in." Possibly she was now cutting sandwiches for the morrow's consumption. Then, like myself, they would return at night, in the hour when the shutters were being put up, the Porches played heaven knew what gambols in the darkness, and even the lights of the Bretagne were extinguished, the awnings rolled up and the chairs and tables carried inside.

Or for that matter, they might be in Dinan for the night only, and off on their bicycles in the morning.

Yet somehow there had been a settled look about that figure that had pa.s.sed the opening of the privet and been gone all in a moment. People who stay only one night in a place usually have their buying-in done for them. And if he was in vareuse and corduroys, her own dress had been indistinguishable from that of almost any shop-a.s.sistant or ouvreuse one might meet in the town. In vain had Alec and Madge gone through her wardrobe to see what garments were missing. That part of his description was useless. Only Madame Arnaud's face was Jennie Aird's.

I did not sit down again. I called inside the cafe, paid what I owed, and walked slowly in the direction the bicycle had taken. There was now, unfortunately, no hurry, and I considered this direction carefully. Two streets led to the right, but one of these might be eliminated, since in order to take it she would have had to skirt the shadow of the Porches, which she could hardly have done without my seeing her. Remained the Rue de la Cordonnerie. This is a narrower slit even than that made by the Porches. The sign of a dingy little restaurant, dimly seen by the light of a lantern high up in the middle of the street, alone seemed to keep the two sides from b.u.mping together. One makes one's way as best one can between two gutters, none too pleasant to the nostrils, and to right and left the low-windowed shops and eating-houses seem to have settled a yard into the earth.

Then, half way down this alley, bicycles caught my eye. The murky light from a half-open door on the right showed the gleam of a couple of mudguards. I stepped over the gutter.

The next moment I had cursed myself for a fool. The officers from the two great barracks of Duguesclin and Baumanoir dine at the Poste or at the Bretagne, but there is not a cabaret or eating-house in the town that is not nightly visited by the N.C.O.'s and men. To see half a dozen bicycles stacked outside a doorway was the commonest of sights.

There were four or five of them here now.

Nevertheless I peeped through the half-open door. I saw a low smoky kitchen interior, one half of it like any other kitchen, but the farther end entirely occupied by a dresser crowded with bottles of all shapes and sizes and colours. A fat little woman in a blue-checked ap.r.o.n and lace cap was ironing; the rest of the table was a litter of kepis, bottles and gla.s.ses. Through drifting cigarette-smoke men's bare heads showed, the red breeches of dragoons, the black breeches of infantry, and a couple of young fellows in horizon-blue, one with a steel cap on his head. No woman's bicycle was likely to be found among those heavy Service machines. I turned away.

So she had slipped me for the moment. But she was in Dinan. What to do now?

Wire immediately to Alec, I supposed.

But as I crossed the Place Duguesclin I had a better idea. It was the lights of the Poste showing under the dark limes that put it into my head. Charlotte might be able to help me. Charlotte was the little Italian-looking toulonnaise who served the cafes and _fines_ outside the hotel and never failed to ask me how I had slept when she brought my coffee and roll in the morning. My French, I ought to say, though serviceable enough, is not of the same pure fount as was Derry's, and Charlotte even more than the other ladies of the hotel took the most charming and hospitable pains in talking with me. And I have always found that, whether in another tongue or in your own, a great deal of your ease depends on who you are talking to. What I mean is that Charlotte and I were friends.

I walked into the large public room where Madame at her desk was casting up her day's accounts. The chairs were being piled on the marble-topped tables, and through the maze of their legs I saw that Charlotte had not yet gone. That was my idea. I knew that Charlotte lived, not in the hotel, but somewhere in the town, coming and going daily. I approached her. I will give our low and brief conversation in English.

"Have you remarked in the town, Charlotte, a young woman of such-and-such a manner of dress and such-and-such a face and hair, especially the hair, who buys her bread and groceries a little late at night and possibly on a bicycle?"

"The shops are closed when one leaves this hotel, M'sieu'," sighed Charlotte.

"But you inhabit the town. I will re-describe." I did so. "If it were possible to furnish me with renseignements----"

"Hold, M'sieu'. This lady is French?"

"Only exteriorly. Without doubt she speaks French, but as I do myself, like a Spanish cow."

"Non, non, M'sieu'," Charlotte politely protested. "But wait. She is alone?"

"She is with her French husband, the most beautiful young man even among the beautiful young men of France." (I was glad Alec was not there to hear me.)

Charlotte gave an exclamation. "Then it _is_ they!"

"Ah! And they live----?"

"I do not know, M'sieu'. But Dinan is not very large."

"Neither is this very large, Charlotte, but it may aggrandise itself----"

And there pa.s.sed between us certain pieces of postage-stamp-edging that united the filthy remnants of what had once been the notes of a Chamber of Commerce. I sought my candle and ascended to my room.

In Dinan! Well, it was quite like him to have cunningly read our minds, antic.i.p.ated our conclusions, and decided that Dinan was perhaps not so unsafe after all. And his mastery of French would enable him to remain obscure.

Yet one or two little things puzzled me. Jennie's French, for example, was not remarkable; why then should he, able to bargain like a native to the last cabbage-leaf, have risked discovery by sending her shopping instead of going himself? Was another change coming? Had it come? Though it could not now be externally a great one, was he none the less nervous about it?... But it was no good guessing. If Charlotte had any luck at all I should know in the morning. In the meantime bed was no bad place.

My room looked on the inner courtyard of the hotel. I was asleep before the lights of the staircases and windows opposite had ceased to flicker over my ceiling and the wardrobe-mirror at my bed's foot.

I awoke to the sound of Dinan's bells. At first I could not remember what it was of importance that I had on my mind. Then the mists of sleep cleared away and it all came brightly back. I dressed hurriedly and descended. Almost immediately Charlotte came to my table with my coffee and my news.

And I had been right after all. They were at that house sunk a yard into the earth in the Rue de la Cordonnerie where the soldiers' bicycles had stood.

"And the name of the proprietor of the house?"

"C'est Madame Carguet, M'sieu'."

"Merci, Charlotte. You will buy yourself a hat for Sundays, but the best in Dinan, it is understood----"

A quarter past nine found me at that low doorway into which I had peeped the evening before. Madame stood at the table, was.h.i.+ng lettuce in a crock. I tapped and entered.

"Madame Carguet?"

"It is I, M'sieu'."

"I am a friend of the lady and gentleman who are staying with you. May I see them?"

She had kind, vivacious and shrewd little eyes, which seemed to measure me for a moment.

"And the name of M'sieu' who asks?"

I thought it possible that he might have left instructions about anybody who might ask for him. In any case there was nothing for it but to be open and above-board. I told her my name, corroborating my statement with my card. She wiped her wet hands on her ap.r.o.n and took the card by the extreme tip.

"Merci, M'sieu'. But actually it is that they have gone painting, taking with them the provisions for the day, as every day."

"They will be back----?"

"This evening. Oh, a.s.suredly, M'sieu'."

Then, whether my manner or my card rea.s.sured her, or however it was, her face lighted up and she broke into a flood of ecstatic French of which I understood perhaps one word in three.

"But it is just as I said to my husband, 'M'sieu'--the fairy-tale of Cendrillon, just! 'Vieux sot, but where are your eyes?' I said. 'Regard how she holds the fer-a-repa.s.ser to her cheek; did she ever before iron a chemise or a coiffe in her life? Look at her hands which hold the needle. It is not like you and me, ce couple-ci; it is of a different order. You will see arrive the coach presently--justement Cendrillon!'

Ah, the beautiful pair! And he, so young, to have fought through this terrible war! Mais oui, M'sieu', c'est vrai--but necessarily M'sieu'

knows better than I who tell him. At first one would not believe. The poilus here, they would not believe. Who would believe? But mon Dieu, it is true! Our Caporal Robert, he was at the very places. It is correct absolutely--the regiments, the divisions, the commandants, the tranchees, the boyaux, the dates--Caporal Robert can verify all, for he too, he, was in contact with the English armies! To hear them talk of an evening, M'sieu', yes, in this very room, while Madame sews or a.s.sists me with the ironing or no matter what----"

"But they have only been here--how many days?"

"Four days, M'sieu'--but we love them. Ah, the difference when such as they drop from the skies! It beautifies our life. C'est une fuite, sans doute, M'sieu'?"

"A little; but all will be accommodated."

"You are a parent, M'sieu'?"

"I am a friend of the parents. I am un peu--amba.s.sador."