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A priest whom, as a boy, he had known well at Monte Della Robbia was now curé at Roquebrune. They corresponded, and in coming to the Riviera, Vanno had planned to look him up. He was in a mood to want a full day's programme. In a few moments' walking he left Monte Carlo behind and came out upon the open hillside, where, above him, he saw the path leading skyward like an interminable staircase.

Half an hour later the taxi which Hannaford had hired stopped at the bridge dedicated to the Empress of Austria, the bridge which marks the dividing line between the communes of Roquebrune and Mentone. Then the two walked along the sea front, where the spray spouted gold in the sun, and a salt tang was on the breeze.

The voice of the waves came up with the wind in a ceaseless moan, and for the first time Mary hated the sound of the sea. It was like the wailing of a great company of mourning women. Far above the road, Roquebrune clock struck seven. It was scarcely night, but darkness loomed ahead like a black wall, toward which the horses hurried yet could never pass.

When the curé of Roquebrune was ushered in, Mary was expecting Dick to arrive with his cousin; but for the moment she was alone in the drawing-room which she had made less depressing by a generous gift of flowers. The alertness with which the girl sprang up, on his entrance, and the quick change of expression told the curé that she was expecting another visitor.

"I'd like that. But I have an engagement this afternoon. Not in the Casino or anywhere at Monte Carlo. It's up at Roquebrune. I have promised to go and see the the curé's garden there." "I'll bring you back from my expedition in plenty of time, if that's all," said Hannaford. He did not urge, but Mary knew that he very much wanted her to say yes. "Will it be out of doors?"

Eastward in the distance ran a linked chain of lights along the high road that led to Italy; and a bright cluster like a knot of fireflies, pulsing on the breast of a mountain, marked the old hill-village of Roquebrune.

The curé knew both men, for his parish extended from the old village of Roquebrune down to the outskirts of Mentone on one side and to St. Roman on the other. He asked one after a new wife, and of the other inquired for the health of his tiny dog, Pomponette. Nothing would do but the microscopic animal must be fetched from her ample bed on the horse's back, and displayed proudly.

One of our first was up to Roquebrune; and we went into the church such a huge, important church for a little hill town! Monsieur le Curé was there, and we talked, and he showed us the picture under a curtain. How I do love pictures under curtains, don't you? They're so beautifully mysterious. And through a door there was a glimpse of fairyland.

A small force under General de Roquebrune was gallantly striving to check the Germans at one part of the Chemin des Boeufs, in order to cover the retreat. A cordon of gendarmes had been drawn up at the railway-station to prevent it from being invaded by all the runaways.

"This lady does not wish me to meet her guest," he told himself. But aloud he said that he regretted missing Miss Grant; and there was no message, thanks, except that the curé of Roquebrune had called again. He was making up his mind to a certain course, and stood aside politely, meaning to let Lady Dauntrey pass, and then follow her down the steps of her villa.