The other shut the door and came across the room. "Night-patrols, a curse on it. Ever since we had that fire up in Bois-Roussel we've had them. The boss is convinced it's wilful damage and he won't listen to anything else. So I have to tramp up and down between Bois-Roussel and Soubirous the whole bloody night, and me only a fortnight wed. Dawn's a lousy time to be out in anyway, and when I think where I might be-"
Bernard laughed and moved away from the ladder. "Hard luck, friend. I expect you make out, tout de méme"
"As to that," said Jules frankly, "I can go to bed the whole bloody day, can't I? Here, let's make this stove up… aha, that's better! Now, tell me what brings you up here at this hour? It's gone five, surely? If you're wanting the English-man he's down at the Coq Hardi for the night. What's he done?"
Bernard said, so slowly that I could almost hear the calculation clicking behind the words: "No, it's not the Englishman."
"No? What then? Don't tell me you're my fire-raiser, Bernard?" Jules laughed. "Come now, what's up? Come dean or I'll have to take you in for trespass. It's bound to be either duty or a woman, and I'm damned if I can see why either should bring you up here."
"As it happens, it's both," said Bernard. 'There's queer doings at the Château Valmy tonight. You've heard of young Philippe's governess; Martin's her name?"
"The pretty little thing that's been dangling after Monsieur Raoul? Who hasn't? What's she done?"
"She's disappeared, that's what she's done, and-"
"Well, what if she has? And what the devil would she be doing up here anyway? There's an obvious place to look for her, my friend, and that's in Monsieur Raoul's bed, not the Englishman's."
"For God's sake can't you keep your mind out of bed for two minutes?"
"No," said Jules simply.
"Well, try. And let me finish what I was telling you. Here. Have a cigarette."
A match snapped and flared. The sharp smell of the Gauloise came up through the boards to where I lay. I could see the two men as plainly as if the ceiling were of glass, their dark faces lit by the crackling stove, the blue smoke of the cigarettes drifting up through the warm air to hang between them. Bernard said, still in that queer note of over-measured thoughtfulness: "The boy's gone, too."
“The boy?"
"Young Philippe."
A pause, and a long soft whistle. "Great God! Are you sure?"
"Damn it, of course we're sure! They've both vanished. Madame went along a bit ago to have a look at the boy-he's not strong, you know, and it seems she's been worried about him. She's not sleeping very well… anyway, she went along, and he wasn't in his room. She went to rouse the governess and found her gone, too. No word, no note, no nothing. We've searched the château from cellar to roof, the Master and I. No sign. They've gone."
"But what in the world for? It doesn't make sense. Unless the girl and Monsieur Raoul -”
"You can leave him out of it," said Bernard sourly. "I've told you she's not snug in his bed. For one thing, what would she want with the boy if that's where she's bound? He'd not be a help, would he?"
"No, indeed," said Jules, much struck. "But-well, the thing's crazy. Where would they go, and why?"
“God knows." Bernard sounded almost indifferent. "And they'll probably turn up very soon anyway. The Master didn't seem very worried, though Madame was properly upset. It's made her ill-she has a bad heart, you know-so the Master told me to get out and scout around the place for them. I've been down to Thonon, but there's no sign…" He paused, and then I heard him yawn.
Beside me Philippe moved a little and stretched in his sleep. His shoes must have been lying near him, and through the blankets his knee touched one of them and pushed it with a small scraping sound over the boards. It was the slightest of noises, but it seemed to fill the pause like thunder.
But Bernard had heard nothing. He was saying, indifferently: "Ten to one it's all nonsense anyway. I probably shouldn't have told you about it, but since you've caught me on your land-" He laughed.
"But why should they be up here?"
"The Master's idea. It seems the girl was seen in Thonon with the Englishman. I tell you, the whole thing's crazy. It stands to reason it's only one of two things; either they're both off together on some silly frolic, or the boy's gone out adventuring on his own and the girl's found him gone and-set off to fetch him back."
Jules sounded dubious. "It doesn't seem very likely."
Bernard yawned again. ''No, it doesn't, but boys are queer cattle-almost as queer as women, friend Jules. And he and the Martin girl are very thick. The two of them had a midnight feast the other night, so I'm told. They'll not have gone far… the boy hasn't got his papers. Depend on it, it'll be some silly lark or other. What else could it be?"
"Well, as long as Monsieur isn't worried," said Jules doubtfully. There was a little silence, through which I heard the hiss of the stove and the shifting of a man's feet. Then Bernard said briskly: "Well, I think I'd better be off. Coming?"
Jules didn't answer directly. He said, in a voice which had a tentative, sidelong sound: "That girl Martin… There was talk. A lot of talk."
"Oh?" Bernard didn't sound interested. As if you didn't know, I thought, lying in my form not four feet from his head.
"People were saying," said Jules hesitantly, "that she and Monsieur Raoul were fiancés."
"Oh, that," said Bernard. A pause. "Well, it's true."
"Diable! Is it really? So she got him?"
"If you put it that way."
"Don't you?"
"Well," said Bernard, sounding amused, "I imagine Monsieur Raoul may have had something to say in the matter. You can't tell me that any girl, however pretty, could lead that one up the garden path unless he very much wanted to go."
"There's ways and ways," said Jules sagely. "He knows what he's about, of course, but damn it, there comes a time…” He laughed. "And she's nothing like his usual. That gets us every time, doesn't it? Fools."
"He was never a fool," said Bernard. "And if he wants to marry her-well, that's what he wants."
"You don't persuade me he's really fallen, do you? For the little English girl? Be your age, man. He wants to sleep with her and she won't let him."
"Maybe. But it's quite a step from that to marriage… for such as him."
"You're telling me. Well, perhaps the reason's more pressing still. Perhaps she has slept with him and now there's a little something to force his hand. It has been done," said Jules largely. "I should know."
"Oh? Congratulations." Bernard's voice sounded almost absent. "But I doubt if that's it."
That's big of you, I thought, biting my knuckles above him while Jules' words crawled like lice along my skin. The stove-top clanked as someone lifted it to drop a cigarette-butt on the logs. Bernard said again: "Look, I must go. Are you coming?"
"Bernard…" Jules had dropped his voice for all the world as if he knew I was listening. He sounded urgent and slightly ashamed. The effect was so queer, so horrible almost, that my skin prickled again.
"Well?" said Bernard, impatiently.
"The girl-"
"Well?" said Bernard again.
"Are you so sure… that she"-Jules paused and I heard him swallow-"that she means well by the boy?"
"What the devil d'you mean?"
"Well… I told you there'd been talk. People have been saying that she… well, has ambitions."
"Ambitions? Who hasn't? Very likely she has, but why should that make her 'not mean well' by the brat? What d'you-" Bernard's voice tailed off and I heard him draw in his breath. He said on a very odd note: "You can't mean what I think you mean, friend Jules."
Jules sounded defiant. "Why not? Why should her ambitions stop at marrying Monsieur Raoul? What does anyone know about her after all? Who is she?"
"An English orphan-I think of good family. That's all I know." A pause. "She's fond of the boy."