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Updated: May 31, 2025
He was actually moving toward the door, and she, almost fainting with emotion, was rallying her strength for a last appeal when the bell in the hall tinkled sharply. Mother Bonneton answered the call and returned a moment later followed by the doorkeeper from below, a cheery little woman who bustled in carrying a note. "It's for the gentleman," she explained, "from a lady waiting in a carriage.
Don't talk to me!" cried the other, and there was such black rage in his look that Bonneton cowered away, clasping and unclasping his hands and murmuring meekly: "Ah, yes, exactly." So much for the humble influence that turned Paul Coquenil toward an unbelievable decision and led him ultimately into the most desperate struggle of his long and exciting career.
Nothing escaped the hawklike eyes of Mother Bonneton, and now, with growing curiosity, she watched the scene between Coquenil and the candle seller. What interest could a great detective have in this girl, Alice, whom she and her husband had taken in as a half-charity boarder? Such airs as she gave herself! What was she saying now? Why should he look at her like that? The baggage!
"Have you never heard of Paul Coquenil?" smiled Matthieu, kicking Papa Bonneton warningly under the table. Groener looked straight at the detective and answered with perfect simplicity: "No wonder you smile, M. Matthieu, but think how far away from Paris I live! Besides, I want this to be a happy day. Come, little cousin, you shall tell me all about it when we are out together.
"Why, what's the matter?" he asked in a tone of concern that had just a touch of hardness in it. The girl hesitated, and Mother Bonneton put in harshly: "I'll tell you, she's fretting about that American who was sent to prison a good riddance it was." "You have no right to say that," flashed Alice. "I have a right to tell your cousin about this foolishness.
Go, go!" "I'm going, M. Paul, I'm going," obeyed Bonneton, and he hurried across the few yards of pavement that separated them from the cathedral. Meantime, the step on the stairs came nearer. It was a light, quick step, and, looking up, Coquenil saw Alice hurrying toward him, tense with some eager purpose. "Oh, M. Matthieu!" exclaimed the girl in apparent surprise.
As soon as Mother Bonneton wrote me about it, I saw I'd have to take the girl away again. I told her this morning she must pack up her things and go back to Brussels with me, and that made the trouble." "Ah!" exclaimed Matthieu with an understanding nod. "Then she knew at luncheon that you would take her back to Brussels?" "Of course she did.
It's pretty bad I don't defend myself, only there's one thing I want you to know. This person was not a low woman, she was a lady." "Huh!" grunted Mother Bonneton. "A lady! The kind of a lady who dines alone with gay young gentlemen in private rooms! Aha, we have the facts!" The young man's eyes kindled.
This Father Anselm has been encouraging the girl for months, filling her up with nonsense about how it's right for a young girl to choose her own husband. Mother Bonneton told me." "You mean that Father Anselm helped her to run away?" gasped Matthieu. "Of course he did. You saw him come out of the confessional, didn't you?"
Why does she " He stopped abruptly, and, pressing the fingers of his two hands against his forehead, he stroked the brows over his closed eyes as if he were combing away error. "No, no!" he changed, "don't tell me yet. I must be alone; I must think. Come to me at nine to-night." "I I'll try to come," said Bonneton, with visions of an objecting wife. "You must come," insisted the detective.
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