Part 51 (1/2)
”I would give a jolly lot to know who this pretended abbe really is!”
He tore through the village of Barentin at racing speed.
A covered cart full of peasants stopped the way. Fandor drew up. He addressed the driver:
”Monsieur, I have rather lost my bearings: will you kindly tell me in which direction the nearest railway station lies?”
The driver, who was the mail carrier for Maronne, answered civilly:
”You must go to Motteville, Corporal. At the first cross-roads you come to, turn to the right--keep straight on--that will bring you to the station.”
Corporal Fandor-Vinson thanked the man, and started off in the direction indicated.
”All I have to do now,” thought he, ”is to discover some nice, lonely spot for.”...
Shortly after this he sighted a grove with a thick undergrowth. It bordered the road. Fandor rushed his machine into a field, and brought it to a stand-still in the centre of a clump of trees. He alighted.
”That motor is a good goer,” said he, ”but it is too dangerous a companion--too conspicuous a mark.”
As he thought of the stranded bundle of mystery at _The Flowery Crossways_ he laughed. Then he started for the station at a steady pace.
The chauffeur woke. He saw it was nine o'clock.
”Good lord!... I shall catch it hot! We were to start at eight!”
He dressed hastily; ran down to the yard; stared about him: his car had vanished. Was he still dreaming?... He ran round to the front of the hotel--no car! Was the car stolen?... Had they set off without him?... The hotel-keeper was marketing in Rouen.... The stablemen could throw no light on this mystery.
”Probably one of your masters has gone for a turn,” suggested a man.
The chauffeur's anger grew.
”If they've dared to!” he shouted. ”It is not their car!... I'm not in their service!... That cure came to my garage yesterday and hired my car for an outing.... What business has this cure or his soldier to move my car?... I'll teach them who and what I am!”...
The farm boys, stable lads and men were shouting with laughter at the chauffeur's fury. Said one:
”You know their room, don't you?... Why not see if they are in it?...
Make sure you have cause for all this dust up!”
The chauffeur rushed upstairs four at a time! He banged on the door of the room taken by his temporary employer and the corporal--banged and thumped!... No response!... He tried the door--unlocked!... He opened it, looked in--empty!
Cursing and raging, the chauffeur clattered downstairs and collided with the hotel-keeper.
”Where is my cure?” shouted the chauffeur.
”Your cure?” echoed the good fellow, staring.
”Yes, my cure. Or his corporal!... Where are they?... Where, I say?”