Part 11 (2/2)
”What would become of her!” he said to himself.
He was not long alone. Angelot and his dog came lightly up through the shadows, and while the dog strayed off to join his favourites among the dark guards who lay round the house, the young man sat down beside his uncle.
Though with a mind full of his own matters, Angelot was sympathetic enough to feel and to wonder at the little uncle's depression. After a word or two on indifferent things--the storm, the marvellous sky--he said to him, ”Has anything happened to worry you?”
Monsieur Joseph did not answer at once, and this was very unlike him.
”It is the thunder, perhaps?” said Angelot, cheerfully. ”A tree was struck near us. My mother is spending the evening in church.”
”And your father?”
”He is at Lancilly, playing boston.”
”Why are you not with him?”
”Why should I be? I--I prefer a talk with my dear uncle.”
”Ah! you ask if anything worries me, Angelot. Three or four things.
First--I had a visit this morning from Cesar d'Ombre. He had his breakfast in peace this time, poor fellow.”
Angelot smiled, rather absently. ”What had he to say?”
”Nothing special. The time is not quite ripe--I think they realised that the other day.”
”I hope so,” murmured Angelot.
”Hope what you please,” said his uncle, with sudden irritation. ”The time will come in spite of you all, remember. I, for one, shall not long be able to endure this abominable system of spying.”
”What do you mean?” said Angelot, staring at him.
”This is what I mean. The instant d'Ombre was gone--while he was here, in fact--that fellow, the Prefect's jackal, was prowling round the stables and asking questions of Tobie. Some silly excuse--pretended he had lost a strap the other day. Asked which of my friends was here--asked if they often came, if they were generally expected.
Suggested that Les Chouettes was well provided with hiding-places, as well for arms as for men. I don't think he made much out of Tobie; he is as solid as an old oak, with a spark of wit in the middle of his thick head. From his own account, he very nearly kicked him off the premises.”
”What? that man Simon? I don't like him either, but was it not a little dangerous to treat him so? He is more than a gendarme, I think; he is an _agent de police_.”
”I don't care what he is, nor does Tobie. He had better come to me with his impertinent questions. And I am angry with De Mauves. I suppose the rascal would not prowl about here without his orders. Of course it was he who found out everything the other day. I did not notice or know him at the time, but the servants tell me he is, as you say, a well-known police spy. Well, after what De Mauves said to you, I should have expected him to leave me in peace. I would rather have one thing or the other--be arrested or let alone. I say, this spying system is ungentlemanly, ungenerous, and utterly contemptible and abominable.”
Monsieur Joseph rapped hard on the table, then took a pinch of snuff with much energy, folded his arms, and looked fiercely into Angelot's downcast face.
”I can hardly think the Prefect sent him,” the young man said.
”Why should he act without his master's orders? In any case I shall have it out with De Mauves. Well, well, other annoyances followed, and I had half forgotten the rascal, your father being here, and the rain coming in at the roof and running down the stairs, when behold Joubard, to tell me the story over again!”
”What story?”
”Mille tonnerres! Angelot, you are very dull to-day. Why, the Simon story, of course. The fellow paid Joubard a visit on his way to us, it seems, and asked a thousand questions about me and my concerns--what visitors of mine pa.s.sed La Joubardiere on their way here, and so forth.
He tried to make it all appear friendly gossip, so as to put Joubard off his guard, though knowing very well that the old man knew who he was.”
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