Part 25 (1/2)

The idea possessed her completely. As the man drove out into the lane, and rattled down the hill toward the main road, she suddenly realized that she must follow; yet how could she hope to do so, on foot? The woman had gone back into the house. Regardless of consequences, Grace ran out into the lane, and after the wagon at full speed.

When she reached the main road the vehicle had already turned into it and was some distance away, headed for Paris, at a speed which, slow for a horse, was still much faster than she could possibly walk.

She looked up and down the road helplessly. There were several other wagons approaching, all going in the same direction--cityward. She realized that they were country people, farmers, taking their vegetables and flowers to the markets.

The first one to reach her was driven by a buxom-looking young woman, wearing a plaid shawl. Grace hailed her. ”Will you be so good, Madame, as to take me to Paris?”

The woman glanced at her shrewdly. ”I have a heavy load, Mademoiselle,”

she replied. Her voice was cold, uninterested.

”I will pay you five francs--”

The words had barely left Grace's lips, before the woman had pulled up her horse. ”Five francs, Mademoiselle? That is another matter. Get in.”

Grace clambered up beside the woman and glanced down the road ahead. The canvas-covered wagon was still in sight--mounting a hill some three or four hundred yards ahead.

The woman looked at her curiously, noting her dress, her hands, her shoes. ”You are not of the country, Mademoiselle,” she remarked, pleasantly.

”No. I belong in Paris.” She turned to her companion. ”I should like to return there as quickly as possible.”

”My Susette does not care to go above a walk,” the woman remarked, gazing at her horse, plodding along with mechanical steps, as though utterly unconcerned as to whether or not they ever reached Paris. The wagon ahead was now out of sight, over the brow of the hill.

”Would you like to make a louis?” Grace took a gold piece from her purse and held it in the sunlight. It glistened brightly.

The woman drew back, regarding her companion suspiciously. ”A louis? Who would not? What do you mean, Mademoiselle?”

”There is a wagon ahead of us, a canvas-covered wagon, with a white horse. I am following it. If you will keep that wagon in sight until we get to Paris, I will give you this louis.”

She turned the gold piece about, making it sparkle in the sun. The woman glanced first at her face, then more carefully at the coin, then, reaching over, took it in her fingers, and raised it to her mouth. Grace wondered what she was about to do. In a moment she had sunk her teeth into it, then returned it to her companion. ”It shall be as you say, Mademoiselle,” she exclaimed as she pulled in the reins. ”Allons, Susette!”

The horse, evidently awakened from his morning dreams, started forward with a suddenness which almost precipitated Grace from her seat. The trees along the roadside began to fly past them. In ten minutes they were close behind the canvas-covered wagon, now moving along at a brisk pace.

When they reached the fortifications, the two wagons were separated by not more than a dozen feet. Grace's companion glanced at her sharply.

”From here I go to Grennelle, Mademoiselle,” she exclaimed.

Grace looked at the wagon ahead. ”Follow it, please,” she said. ”I will give you another five francs.”

The woman obeyed in silence. The wagon in front of them headed off toward the northwest, going in the direction of Pa.s.sy. Before a great while it crossed the Pont de Pa.s.sy, turned into the Rue Nicolo, and came to a stop before a small brick house, standing in a little garden.

Grace jumped down at the corner, after giving the woman the louis and the additional five francs. ”Thank you,” she said, and started slowly up the street.

The wagon with the canvas cover stood quietly alongside the curb. The old man who drove it had approached the door of the house, and was ringing the bell.

Presently one of the windows on the top floor was thrown open, and a man's head was thrust out. Grace could not see his face clearly. He looked down at the man at the door, who at the same time looked up. The window was instantly closed, and a few moments later the door of the house opened and the man came out.

He stood talking with the driver in low tones for a few moments. Grace had walked on up the street, fearing to attract attention. Looking back, she saw that the two men were gazing after her. She dared not turn her head again, but at the next corner turned into a cross street. Then she stopped, and cautiously peered around the corner. The two men had gone to the wagon and were lifting out the large basket. A few moments later they disappeared with it into the house.

After a time, the old man returned with the basket in his hands. From the way he carried it Grace could see that it was empty. He tossed it carelessly into the wagon, mounted the seat, and drove off.