Robert Tournay Part 16

"But tell me, are you inclined to trust me?"

"Yes," answered Elise, stopping and looking him full in the face. "I am."

"Good," he cried, setting down the pail and extending his hand.

"I am disposed to trust you," she went on, "but in order to do so fully I should wish to see a letter from the friend you speak of."

"It is dangerous to carry such a writing," he replied significantly.

"True, but you can mention names."

"I can, and will,--names your brother will know well. The Baron von Valdenmeer, for instance. Besides, if I were your enemy I need not come thus secretly. Your enemies can use open means."

"I said"--Elise hesitated--"I am disposed to believe you are what you claim to be, but I can do nothing without the consent of my brother."

"Good! will you obtain his consent?"

"I will try."

"Good again. You will succeed. Talk with him and get his consent to leave here. And as soon as possible I will make all the arrangements for the journey so that we may leave in a week or at the latest a fortnight.

Then if you have not persuaded your brother that it is for his interest to go with me, I will try and add my arguments to yours."

"I trust you will find us ready," said Elise; "but in the mean time shall you remain here?"

"No, I must go to Paris," was the Prussian's answer. "If you should have occasion to communicate with me, a word sent to Hector Gaillard, 15 Rue des Mathurins, will reach me. But do not send any word unless it is of the greatest importance, and then employ a messenger whom you can trust."

"Is that your name?" asked the woman.

"That is my name while in France. Can you remember that and the address?"

"I can."

"Then good-by. And a word at parting," he said--turning after he had leaped the fence. "It is perhaps needless to caution you, but my advice would be that your brother should not go too often to the village. His hands are too small. Good-by." And he walked off up the lane smoking his short pipe, and whistling gayly.

Two days later Gaillard joined his friend Tournay in Paris. He found Tournay much more hopeful than when he had left him, and his spirits rose still more as he heard Gaillard's news.

"It is Wednesday," Tournay said. "On Sat.u.r.day the convention has promised to send me back with my dispatches. Can you be ready for La Haye by Sat.u.r.day morning?"

"Yes," said Gaillard, "twelve hours earlier if necessary."

"It is agreed then for Sat.u.r.day, unless the convention delays."

Three days after her meeting with Gaillard, Elise, on returning from a neighboring town where she had gone to dispose of some b.u.t.ter, found the kitchen deserted and the fire out. She had expected to find a bowl of hot potato soup and a plate of sausage and garlic. Instead she found a cold hearthstone and an empty ca.s.serole.

As usual, the first thought of the devoted sister was of Paul, and she called his name loudly. It did not take long to ascertain that the house was empty, and with her heart beating wildly with anxiety she ran outside the cottage crying, "Oh, Paul, my child,--my brother, Paul!"

There was no answer save from the cattle in the outhouse who shook their stanchions, impatient for their evening meal. She looked about for Pere Louchet. He also was absent. Evidently he had driven in the cows and had been prevented from feeding them. Something serious had happened, and it must have occurred within an hour, for at this time the cattle were usually feeding.

Elise sat down for a moment on an upturned basket to collect herself.

Her first thought was to go to Maillot's in search of them. They might be there, yet it would take an hour to go to Maillot's and return. And then what if Louchet and Paul were not there! What if the couple had been murdered and the bodies were still on the farm? Elise shuddered at the thought, and called loud again, "Paul, Paul, my brother, art thou not here?"

From the hay in the loft above came a smothered sound. With a glad cry Elise sprang up the stairs, to see Pere Louchet's head and shoulders emerging from under a pile of clover.

"Where is Paul?" cried Elise, pouncing upon him before he had freed himself from the hay, and almost dragging him to his feet. He blinked at her for a moment while he picked the stray wisps of straw from his hair and neck.

"Gone," he said laconically.

"Gone! Where?" cried Elise, frantically taking him by the shoulders and shaking him so that the hayseed and straw flew from his coat. "Pere Louchet, what is the matter? I never saw you like this before; have you been drinking?"

"No," he said slowly, and then as if the thought occurred to him for the first time, he went toward a cask of cherry brandy which stood in a corner of the granary and drew almost a tin-cupful.

With blazing eyes Elise saw him measure out the liquor slowly, with a hand that trembled slightly, and put the cup to his lips. She felt as if she must spring upon him and dash the cup from his hands, but she controlled herself with an effort. Louchet drained off the brandy to the last drop, straightened up, and looked at Elise. He acted like a different man.

"Paul was taken from here about an hour ago by three men. They had papers and red seals and tricolor c.o.c.kades enough to take a dozen."

"And you let them take him?" cried Elise.

Pere Louchet looked at his niece quizzically with his twinkling eye.

"There were three of them, Elise, my child, and they had big red seals and swore a great deal."

"Of course," admitted the woman hastily, "you could do nothing by force."

"I did try to prevent them from going upstairs where Paul was," the old man replied, "but one of them knocked me on the head and into a corner where I lay like a log."

"Oh that I had been here," moaned Elise, as she and Louchet went toward the house. "If I could only know where they have taken Paul!"

"To Tours," replied Pere Louchet with decision.

"How do you know?" asked Elise quickly.

"I remember it plainly now. When I lay in the corner with a kind of dazed feeling in my head, not wis.h.i.+ng to get up and stir around, I saw one of the men--not the one who hit me, but a smaller man with a larger hat and more c.o.c.kades and more seals, take a paper out of his pocket and read it to Paul. I tried to make out what it said, for although I could hear every word that was uttered, I could not get an idea in my head that would hold together; but I was able to catch the word Tours; I am sure they have gone to Tours."

"How is your head now, Pere Louchet?" asked Elise with feverish eagerness.

"As clear as a bell," was the reply. "Let me have one little nip more of that brandy and it will be clearer."

"Can you ride?"

"Like a boy."

"Good! Make up a bundle of food and clothing for a two-days' journey and I'll have a horse at the door by the time you are ready."

Ten minutes later Pere Louchet, with a bundle of necessities strapped on his back, was mounted on one of his best horses which Elise had saddled for him.

"Now, where am I to ride to?" he demanded, directing his twinkling eye down upon his niece.

"Ride to Paris. Seek out Gaillard, 15 Rue Mathurins; give him this letter. That is all I ask of you."

"And you--what are you going to do?" said Pere Louchet, putting the letter in his inside breast pocket with a slap on the outside to emphasize its safety.