“Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Timms have both gone out, your grace.”
“What, has his lordship gone off without his valet?” demanded Rupert.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I am going into the house,” announced Léonie.
Rupert watched her go, and looked at the lackey again. “Come on, out with it, my man: Where’s his lordship?”
“My lord, indeed I could not say. If your lordship would wait till Mr. Fletcher comes in, maybe he would know.”
“It looks to me like a damned fishy business,” said Rupert severely, and followed Léonie into the hall.
He found her grace trying to pump the housekeeper. When she saw him Léonie said: “Rupert, it is what I do not at all understand! She says the girl was never here. And I do not think she is lying to me, for she is my servant, and not Dominique’s.”
Lord Rupert divested himself of his heavy Rockelaure. “Well, if Vidal’s got rid of the wench already, I’d say it’s quick work,” he remarked admiringly. “Stap me, if I know how he manages it! I always found ’em cling so there was no shaking the dear creatures off at all.”
Léonie cast him a glance of scorn and swept upstairs. The housekeeper would have followed her, but his lordship detained her, and broached the matter nearest his heart. The housekeeper was shocked to learn that the travellers had not yet dined, and hurried away to order a meal to be prepared at once.
When Léonie saw Rupert again dinner was on the table, and his lordship had just come in from a visit to the stables. He took his seat opposite Léonie, and said with a puzzled air: “Blister me if I can make head or tail of this coil. Vidal’s damned lackeys are as close as a lot of oysters. Y’know, Léonie, the boy’s a marvel, so he is. I never could keep a servant who didn’t blab all my affairs to the world.”
“He is coming back,” Léonie said positively. “I have looked in his room, and all his clothes are there.”
Lord Rupert coughed. “Anything else, my dear?” he asked, with delicacy.
“Nothing,” said Léonie. “It is very curious, do you not think? For where can the girl be?”
“That’s what beats me,” confessed Rupert. “Not but what I never thought to find her here. But if she’s not, why is Vidal? That’s what I don’t understand. Now, I’ve been talking to the grooms. All I can find is that Vidal left Paris by the Port Royal to-day. Naturally, I don’t like to ask ’em point-blank if he’d a wench with him, and none of ’em — ”
“Why not?” interrupted the Duchess.
“Burn it, you can’t ask lackeys questions like that, Léonie!”
“I do not see why not. I want to know, and if I do not ask who will tell me?”
“They’ll never tell you, anyway, my dear,” his lordship informed her.
Dinner was over when Fletcher at last put in an appearance, and Rupert and Léonie had repaired to the library. Fletcher came in, sedate as ever, and begged her grace’s pardon for having been out when she arrived. Léonie brushed that aside, and once more demanded to know her son’s whereabouts.
“I think, your grace,” he answered guardedly, “that his lordship has gone to Dijon.”
Lord Rupert stared at him. “What in the fiend’s name does he want in Dijon?” he asked.
“His lordship did not tell me, my lord.”
Léonie smote her hands together. “Voyons, I find it insupportable that no one can tell me anything about my son! Speak, you! Was that girl with M. le Marquis? — No, I will not be quiet, Rupert! Was she with him, Fletcher?”
“I beg your grace’s pardon?” Mr. Fletcher was all polite bewilderment.
“Do not beg my pardon again, or I shall become enraged!” Léonie said dangerously. “It is no use to tell me you do not know of any girl, for me I am well aware that M. le Marquis had one with him when he left England. That is not a thing extraordinary. It is true, is it not?”
Mr. Fletcher cast an appealing glance at Lord Rupert, who said testily: “Don’t stare at me, man! We know the girl was with his lordship.”
Mr. Fletcher bowed. “As your lordship says.”
“Well, has she gone to Dijon?”
“I could not say, my lord.”
Léonie eyed him with hostility. “Did she leave this house with M. le Marquis?”
“No, your grace. She was not with his lordship when he set forward on his journey.”
“There you are, my dear!” said Rupert. “Vidal’s got rid of her, and we may as well go home again before Avon gets wind of the affair.”
Léonie told Mr. Fletcher he might go, and when the door had closed behind him, she turned to Rupert with an expression of great anxiety on her face. “Rupert, it becomes more and more serious!”
“Devil a bit!” said his lordship cheerfully. “You can’t get away from it, the girl’s not with Vidal now, so I don’t see we’ve aught to worry over!”
“But Rupert, you do not understand at all! I have a very big fear that Dominique may have cast her off — in a rage, tu sais.”
Lord Rupert disposed his limbs more comfortably in his chair. “I shouldn’t wonder if he had,” he agreed. “It don’t concern us, thank the Lord!”
Léonie got up, and began to move about the room. “If he has done that it is a crime one does not forgive. I must find her.”
Lord Rupert blinked. “If she ain’t with that precious son of yours what do you want with her now?” he inquired.
“Do you think I will permit my son to abandon a girl in Paris?” Léonie said fiercely. “That is noble, yes! I tell you, I have been alone in a great city and there is nothing I do not know of what may happen to a girl who has no protector.”
“But you said this wench was a — ”
“I may have said it, but that was because I was angry. I do not know what she is, and I will find her immediately. If Dominique has done her a wrong he shall marry her.”
Lord Rupert clasped his head in his hands. “Hang me, if I know what you’re about, Léonie!” he said. “Here’s me dragged out of England to help you save the Cub from an adventuress, as I thought, and now you say the boy’s to marry her!”
Léonie paid not the slightest heed to this. She went on pacing the room until suddenly an idea came to her, and she stopped short. “Rupert, Juliana is in Paris!”
“What of it?” said his lordship.
“But do you not see, that if Vidal has been staying here of course Juliana has met him?”
“Do you think she might know why the plaguey boy has gone off to Dijon?” inquired Rupert hopefully. “That’s what bothers me. Why Dijon?”
Léonie wrinkled her brow in a puzzled manner. “But why, Rupert, is it Dijon that bothers you? I find the whole of this affair so very strange and without reason that for Dominique to have gone to Dijon is a bagatelle.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Rupert said. “It’s such a devilish queer place to go to. Dijon! What in the fiend’s name would anybody want there? I’ll tell you what it is, Léonie, the boy’s behaving mighty oddly.” He shook his head. “The ninth earl was given to these turns, so they say. It’s a bad business.”
Léonie stared at him. Lord Rupert tapped his forehead significantly. Léonie said in great indignation: “Are you telling me that my son is mad?”
“We’ll hope he ain’t,” Rupert said pessimistically, “but you can’t deny he’s behaving in a manner no one would call sane. Dijon! Why, it’s absurd!”
“If you were not Monseigneur’s brother, Rupert, I should have one big quarrel with you. Mad! Voyons, he is not so mad as you, for you have not any sense at all. Let us go to find Juliana.”
They found, not Juliana, but her hostess, laboriously writing what seemed to be a very long letter. When they were ushered into her boudoir she displayed as much startled surprise as could be expected of anyone so habitually placid. She got up to embrace Léonie, almost falling upon her neck. “Mon Dieu, is it you, Léonie?” she said, with a fat gasp. Then she held out a checking hand. “Not my cousin Justin? Do not say my cousin Justin is here!” she implored.