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Updated: May 15, 2025
I had no wish to see her ladyship, but Heathcroft's departure was a distinct disappointment. I thanked the butler and, remembering that even cathedral ushers accepted tips, slipped a shilling into his hand. His dignity thawed at the silver touch, and he expressed regret at Mr. Heathcroft's absence. "You're not the only gentleman who has been here to see him this morning, sir," he said.
That Frances should be singing in a Paris church was most improbable; but, so far as that went, the fact of A. Carleton Heathcroft's attending a church service I should, ordinarily, have considered improbable. Improbable things did happen. Suppose the girl he had seen was Frances. My heart leaped at the thought. But even supposing it was she, what difference did it make to me? None, of course.
I turned as I reached the entrance of the hotel and looked back. He was still standing there, staring at me. That afternoon I spent in my room. There is little use describing my feelings. That she was in Paris I was sure now. That Bayliss had seen her I was equally sure. But why had he spoken and looked as he did when I first spoke of Heathcroft's story?
HE would not be deterred by scruples; her wish would not prevent his going to Paris in search of her. I reached the rectory, to be welcomed by Hephzy with questions concerning the outcome of the tournament and triumphant gloatings over my perfectly useless prize. I did not tell her of Heathcroft's story. I merely said I had met that gentleman and that Herbert Bayliss had returned to Mayberry.
I had been struggling through the crowd, trying my best to get a glimpse of the man she had thought to be Herbert Bayliss. If it was he then my suspicions were confirmed. Heathcroft's story of the girl who sang in Paris had impressed him as it had me and he was on his way to see for himself. But the man, whoever he might be, had disappeared. "How the wind does blow," said Hephzy.
And his note to me was stranger still. I began to suspect then, and when we next met I asked him some questions. He told me next to nothing, but he is honorable and he does not LIE. I learned enough, quite enough." I wondered if she had learned of the essential thing, of Heathcroft's engagement. "Did he tell you why I objected to his intimacy with you?" I asked. "He told me nothing! Nothing!
Heathcroft's tale had made a great impression upon me a most unreasonable impression, unwarranted by the scant facts as he related them. The girl whom he had seen resembled Frances yes; but she was an Austrian, her name was not Morley. And resemblances were common enough.
I must join her at Interlaken in three days or there would be trouble. And how was I to make even the most superficial search in three days? Of course I had realized something of this before. Even in the state of mind which Heathcroft's story had left me, I had realized that my errand in Paris was a difficult one.
There were sandwiches and biscuits crackers, of course and cakes and sweets galore. Also thirst-quenching materials sufficient to satisfy even the gamblers of Mr. Heathcroft's acquaintance. The "sporting curate," behind a huge Scotch and soda, was relating his mishaps in approaching the seventh hole for the benefit of his brother churchmen, Messrs. Judson and Worcester.
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