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Updated: June 8, 2025
"And now," he said to himself, looking round him in a searching way, "where is this pestilential village?" The way was not hard to find, and as the church clock struck eight the Vicomte d'Audierne opened the little green gate of the cottage where Signor Bruno was lodging. The old gentleman must have been watching for him; for he opened the door before the Vicomte reached it.
They were quite close together, and Hilda was talking persistently and gaily to the Vicomte d'Audierne. "The London police are here already," whispered Sidney; "shall I say anything about Vellacott?" "No," replied Mr. Bodery, after a moment's reflection. "I am going to ride over to Porton Abbey with them now." "Right," replied the editor, returning to the table with his plate.
Hilda Carew could not have defined her feelings on the evening of the arrival of Mr. Bodery and the Vicomte d'Audierne. She was conscious of the little facts of everyday existence. She dressed for dinner with singular care; during that repast she talked and laughed much as usual, but all the while she felt like any one in all the world but Hilda Carew.
But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is full of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that wonderful inner history of France which is the most romantic story of human kind.
There were half-a-dozen deep armchairs, a divan, and two or three small tables beyond that nothing. Sidney's father had furnished it thus, with a knowledge and appreciation of Oriental ways. It was not a study, nor a library, nor a den; but merely a smoking-room. Mr. Bodery had lighted an excellent cigar, and through the thin smoke he glanced persistently at the Vicomte d'Audierne.
They were so startlingly alike, in height and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird and unpleasant in their action in their silence. "Ah!" said the last comer. "It is thou. I almost fired!" And he threw down on the table a small revolver. "Why have you done this?" continued the Vicomte d'Audierne.
Sidney lighted Mr. Bodery's candle and shook hands. "By the way," said the editor, turning back and speaking more lightly, "if any one should inquire your mother or one of your sisters you can say that I am not in the least anxious about Vellacott. Good night." It was quite early the next morning when the Vicomte d'Audierne left his room.
He was obviously not in the habit of dealing with the People. The Vicomte d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different people this man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders without heeding the reception of them. The tobacconist was essentially a man of peace. He passed out of a small door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur, and leaving the new-comer alone.
"Master mind in this house," he reflected. "Yes," he admitted aloud. He folded his gloves and placed them in the pocket of his coat. The others watched him in silence. "Do you take sugar and cream?" inquired Hilda sweetly, speaking for the second time. "Please both. In moderation." "I say," interrupted Sidney at this moment, "the Vicomte d'Audierne is following us in a fly.
True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he said that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the world who could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to test his authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose of seeing his brother senior by an hour.
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