Barbara in Brittany

by George A. Warren

  CHAPTER XVI.

  BARBARA PLAYS DETECTIVE.

  The morning lesson was over, and Mademoiselle Therese had betaken herselfto Barbara's couch, which the girl knew always meant that she was goingto make her an indefinite visit, and tell her some long story. Thistime, it was about her visit to England and what she had done whenteaching there; and, as Barbara had heard it all before more than once,it was a little difficult to show a proper interest in it.

  "Yes," mademoiselle went on, "it was a time full of new experiences forme, by which I hope I profited. I got on extremely well with yourcountrywomen, too, and the girls all loved me, and, indeed, so did yourcountrymen, for I received a great many offers of marriage while there.I grew weary of refusing them, and was _so_ afraid of hurting theirfeelings--but one cannot marry every one, can one?"

  "Certainly not, mademoiselle," Barbara returned gravely. "It would bemost unwise."

  "That is just what I felt. Now, the German fraeulein----"

  Barbara sighed, wondering if it were the tenth or eleventh time she hadheard the tale of the "German fraeulein"; but before she had decided thepoint, there was a knock at the door, and the maid-servant brought up themessage that mademoiselle was wanted below by a visitor.

  She rose at once, shook out her skirt, and patted her hair.

  "That is just the way," she said. "I am never allowed much time forrest. You would not believe how many people seek me to obtain my advice.I will return in a few minutes and finish my story."

  When she had gone, Barbara looked longingly at the couch. It was _such_a hot day, and the lesson had been a long one; but she was afraid it wasnot much good to settle down with the promise of the story hanging overher head. The result proved she was right, for very soon MademoiselleTherese came hurrying back again, full of smiles and importance. Thelandlady of the inn, _Au Jacques Cartier_, wished her to go there, shesaid, to act as interpreter between herself and an Englishman, who couldspeak hardly any French. Would Barbara like to come too?

  Thinking it might be entertaining, Barbara got ready hastily and ran downto join Mademoiselle Therese and the landlady, who had come in person "tobetter make clear matters."

  "This Englishman and his son," she explained, as they went along, "haveonly been with us a day or two, but already we wish them to go, yetcannot make them understand. Of course, I do not wish to hurt hisfeelings, but now, in August, I could let the room twice over to peoplewho would be much less trouble, and whom the other guests would likebetter."

  "But what is wrong with these?" asked Mademoiselle Therese critically."I must know all the affair or I cannot act in it."

  She drew herself up very straight, and Barbara wondered if she werethinking of Portia in the _Merchant of Venice_.

  "Well, this gentleman asked for a 'bath every morning,'" the landladyreplied in an injured tone, "and after we procured for him a nice littlewashing-tub, with much trouble, he said it was too small."

  "That is not sufficient reason to send him away;" and MademoiselleTherese shook her head.

  "No. But then he cannot understand what goes on at _table d'hote_, andhe and his son are such silent companions that it casts a gloom over therest. Of course," with an apologetic glance at Barbara, "some Englishmenare very nice to have; but this one"--she shook her head as if the matterwere quite beyond her--"this one I do not like, and perhaps withouthurting his feelings, you, mademoiselle, could make quite clear to himthat he must go."

  By this time they had arrived at the hotel, which was close to theRosalba Bathing Place, and overlooked that little bay. Barbara, thinkingthe interview would be a delicate one, and that she would but add to theunpleasantness of the situation, said she would wait in the orchard tillshe was called.

  From it one could get a beautiful view across the River Rance, to thewooded slopes beside Dinard, and, finding a seat beneath a lime-tree,Barbara sat down. She had been there about a quarter of an hour, and wasalmost asleep, when she heard stealthy footsteps coming through the grassbeside her, and the next moment her startled eyes fell upon thesolicitor's son of Neuilly remembrance!

  She got rather a fright at first, but he certainly got a much worse one;and before he had recovered it had flashed across her mind quite clearlythat the man who was at that moment talking to Mademoiselle Therese, wasthe solicitor himself. Before she could move from her place, the son hadcast himself down on his knees, and was begging her incoherently to sparehim and his father--not to inform against them. The thought of going toprison, he said, would kill him, as it had his mother, as it nearly hadhis sister; and if she would spare them, he would take his father away atonce.

  To see the boy crying there like a child almost made Barbara give way andlet things go as they liked; but then she remembered how meanly hisfather had cheated the people in Neuilly--a widow's family too--and whata life he seemed to have led his own wife and children; then, calling tomind his horrid manner and cruel, sensuous face, she steeled herselfagainst him.

  "I shall certainly inform against your father," she said gravely. "And Ithink the best thing that you and your sister can do, is to get away atonce, before it is too late."

  The boy wrung his hands. "My sister has gone already," he moaned, "tosome Scotch relations--simple people--who said they would take her in ifshe would have nothing more to do with our father. But I could notgo--there was money only for one."

  Barbara looked at the pathetic figure before her, and suddenly forgot allher promises not to get entangled in any more plots or other dangerousenterprises, and almost before she realised what she was doing, she wasscribbling a message in French on the back of an envelope.

  From where they stood they could see the little house of MademoiselleVire, and the entrance to the lane in which it stood. Pointing out theroof of the house to her companion, she told him to run there with thenote, and, if the people let him in, to wait until she came.

  She felt it was a very bold, and perhaps an impertinent thing to do, butshe was almost sure that Mademoiselle Vire would do as she asked. Assoon as she saw him so far on his way, she ran to the inn, and wentthrough to the kitchen, where a maid was cooking.

  "Bring your master to me, as quickly as possible," the girl saidperemptorily. "You need not be afraid" she added, seeing that thewoman--not unnaturally--looked upon her with suspicion. "I will touchnothing, and the quicker you come back the better I shall be pleased."

  The maid eyed her doubtfully for a few minutes, then shrugged hershoulders and ran out of the room. Her master would, at least, be ableto get rid of this obnoxious stranger, she thought. He came quicklyenough, with an anxious expression on his rosy face, and Barbara had totell the story twice or thrice before he seemed to understand. It wasrather unpleasant work telling a foreigner about the evil deeds of afellow-countryman, but it seemed the right thing to do, though thethought of it haunted the girl for some time.

  When once the landlord understood matters, he acted very promptly,sending some one for the police, and then with a telegram to Neuilly. Hesaid he had had his doubts all along, because the gentleman had seemedqueer, and the people sleeping next him had complained that they weresure he beat his son, for they used to hear the boy crying.

  The landlord then went down into the hall to wait until MademoiselleTherese's interview was over, and Barbara, leaving a message to theeffect that she had grown tired and had gone on, ran back to their house.

  Having succeeded in entering unobserved, she got her purse and hurriedoff to Mademoiselle Vire.

  The old maid looked at her with a mingling of relief and curiosity, butwas much too polite to ask any questions.

  "The young man is here," she said, and led the way into the littledining-room, where her mistress was sitting opposite the boy with a verypuzzled face, but doing her best to make him take some wine and biscuit.Mademoiselle Vire had always appeared to Barbara as the most courteouswoman she had ever met, and, in presence of the frightened, awkwardyouth, her gracious air impressed the girl more than
ever.

  Knowing that he could not understand French she told his story at once,and her listener never showed by a glance in his direction that he wasthe subject of conversation. They both came to the conclusion that thebest thing he could do would be to go to St. Malo, and take the firstboat to England. It left in the evening about seven, so that by nextmorning he would be safe at Southampton.

  Then Barbara said, in the way she had been wont to advise Donald, "Ithink you should go straight to your sister, and take counsel with her asto what you should do. I will lend you money enough for what you need."

  "You _are_ kind," the boy said, with tears in his eyes. "I'll pay youback as soon as I get any money--as soon as ever I can, I do promiseyou--if only I get safely to England." He had such a pitiful, frightenedway of looking over his shoulder, as if he expected to see his fatherbehind him all the time, that Barbara's wrath against the man arose anew,and she felt she could not be sorry, whatever his punishment might be.

  "Good-bye," she said kindly. "I must go away now. I think, when youarrive in England, you might write to Mademoiselle Vire, and say youarrived safely. I shall be anxious till I hear."

  The boy almost embarrassed Barbara by the assurances of his gratitude,and she breathed more freely when she got into the open air.

  "How glad I ought to be that Donald isn't like that," she thought, theremembrance of her frank, sturdy brother rising in vivid contrast in hermind.

  When she got back, Mademoiselle Therese was enjoying herself thoroughly,recounting the adventure to her own household and to the widower and hissons whom she had called in to add to her audience. She described thewhole scene most graphically and with much gesticulation, perhaps alsowith a little exaggeration.

  "The anger of the man when he found he must accompany the officers washerculean," she said, casting up her eyes; "he stormed, he raged, he torehis hair" (Barbara remembered him as almost quite bald!), "he insistedthat his son must come too."

  "How mean!" the girl cried indignantly.

  "But the son," mademoiselle paused, and looked round her audience--"theson," she concluded in a thrilling whisper, "had gone--fled--disappeared.One moment he was there, the next he was nowhere. Whereupon the papa wasstill more angry, and with hasty words gave an exact and particulardescription of him in every detail. 'He must be caught,' he shouted, 'hemust keep me company.' Such a father!" Mademoiselle rolled her eyeswildly. "Such an inhuman monster repelled me, and--I fled."

  Barbara, feeling as if they should applaud, looked round vaguely to seeif the others were thinking of beginning; but at that moment she wasoverpowered by Mademoiselle Therese suddenly flinging herself upon herand kissing her on both cheeks.

  "This!" she said solemnly, holding Barbara with one hand andgesticulating with the other--"this is the one we must thank for thecapture. She directed the landlord--her brains planned the arrest--_she_will appear against him in court."

  "Oh, no!" Barbara cried in distress, "I really can't do that. They havetelegraphed for Madame Belvoir's son from Neuilly--he will do. I reallycould not appear in court."

  "But you can speak French quite well enough now--you need not mind aboutthat; and it will be quite an event to appear in court. It is not_every_ girl of your age who can do that."

  Mademoiselle spoke almost enviously; but the idea was abhorrent toBarbara, who determined, if possible, to avoid such an ordeal.

  The next afternoon they had a visit from one of Madame Belvoir's sons,who had come across to see what was to be done about the "solicitor."Barbara was very glad to see him, for it brought back remembrances of thefirst happy fortnight in Paris.

  It was rather comforting to know, too, that the result of one of theplots she had been concerned in had been satisfactory, for the news aboutAlice was good. She was getting on well with French, and all theBelvoirs liked her very much. The "American gentleman" had been to seeher twice, and her father had not only given her permission to stay, buthad written to Mademoiselle Eugenie to that effect, and was coming overhimself to see her.