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Updated: June 5, 2025
As it happened, there was no clothing store in the village of Montville, where the stop was made. But the hotel proprietor had some clothes of one of his sons who had gone to the city to work. Bob was given a partly worn but very good coat and trousers. "He's a nice looking boy when he's dressed well," said Mrs. Bobbsey, as the lad discarded his old clothes. "Yes," agreed her husband.
Whisky and soda, then?" "What you will, monsieur." "Very well. Whisky and soda, Holmes, and be quick about it." Mordaunt glanced at the clock, looked again at the photograph at his elbow, finally rose. "I want a talk with you, M. de Montville," he said, "if you feel up to it. Don't get up, please. There is no necessity."
"Bit light-headed, sir?" suggested the servant, glancing round with an inscrutable countenance. "No, he'll be all right. Go and turn on the hot water," said Mordaunt. To the Frenchman as the man departed he spoke as to an equal. "Monsieur de Montville, I am offering you the hospitality of a friend, and I hope you will accept it. In the morning if you are well enough we will talk things over.
"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?" Very slowly de Montville rose to his feet, and stood, holding to the back of his chair. "I am quite well," he said impressively. "Very good, sir," said Holmes again, and withdrew, shaking his head dubiously as soon as he was out of the Frenchman's sight.
De Montville gripped his hand with all his strength. "I can serve you, then? You have only to speak." But Mordaunt would not speak till he was recumbent again. Then very quietly he came to the point. "The upshot of it is that I want a secretary to take things off my hands a bit, and since I would rather have a pal than a stranger in that capacity I am wondering if you will take on the job."
This was the sole remaining aspiration of Bertrand de Montville the man who in the arrogance of his youth had diced with the gods, and had lost the cast. "My dear, it is quite useless for you to attempt to justify your conduct, for it was simply inexcusable. No argument can possibly alter that fact.
But de Montville apparently thought otherwise, for he drew himself to a sitting position and faced his benefactor. "I also," he said, "have desired to talk with you since long." Mordaunt pulled up a chair. "Do you mind if I talk first?" he said. "But certainly, monsieur." With quick courtesy the Frenchman made reply. His dark eyes were very intent.
For a while she watched him, not heeding his adversary, watched the glint of the crossed swords, the pass, the thrust, and the return. And then, by some mysterious influence, her eyes were drawn upward to the face of his opponent, and it was as if one of those flashing blades had found her heart. For Bertrand de Montville was fighting the grey-eyed, level-browed Englishman who was her husband!
But Holmes, being empty-handed, did not comply with the request. He remained hesitating, obviously doubtful, till with a sharp jerk de Montville turned in his chair. "What is it, then? I have told you I am busy." Holmes looked apologetic. He found the abrupt ways of the new secretary somewhat disconcerting. "It's a young lady, sir," he explained rather diffidently. "It's Miss Wyndham.
"No," Mordaunt said gently. "You will stay here till morning. You are not well. You are feverish. And the sooner you get to bed the better. Come! We are not strangers. Need we behave as if we were?" Again de Montville looked at him doubtfully. "I wish that I could recall " he said. "You will presently," Mordaunt assured him.
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