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Updated: June 6, 2025
Madame Wachner's warning as to saying as little as possible of the other's departure from Lacville had made very little impression on Sylvia, yet it so far affected her that, instead of telling Monsieur Polperro of the fact the moment she was back at the Villa du Lac, she went straight up to her own room.
The message was simple enough. "'Saw Barraclough Polperro this morning. Been following all day. Escaped in Panhard, probably will enter London by Portsmouth or Great Western Road. Am pursuing in Ford car. Obstruct. Harrison Smith." It was handed in at eight o'clock and postmarked Wimborne. "Saw Barraclough!" repeated Hipps. "Harrison Smith's gone crazy."
But the promises of Southerners are pie-crust. Doubtless M. Polperro meant the Count to have the note that night, but he put it aside and forgot all about it. Sylvia had a broken night, and she was still sleeping heavily when she was wakened by the now familiar sound of the horses being brought into the courtyard. She jumped out of bed and peeped through an opening in the closed curtains.
He was very curious as to the proceedings of that mysterious fellow Greenacre, who, as likely as not, had got Lord Polperro into his power for rascally purposes. What was that half-heard allusion to another wife, who might be alive or dead? Nothing to cause astonishment assuredly, but the matter ought to be cleared up.
"Polperro?" said Reuben: "that's where your ship goes to?" "No, not ezactly: I goes to Fowey, but they bain't over a step or so apart a matter o' six miles, say." There was a pause, which Captain Triggs broke by saying, "Iss, I thought whether it wudn't surprise 'ee to hear 'bout it bein' Adam Pascal.
Soon her unspoken question was answered; for the Comte de Virieu, clad in riding breeches and a black jersey, came out of the house, and close on his heels trotted M. Polperro, already wearing his white chef's cap and apron. Sylvia could hear his "M'sieur le Comte" this, and "M'sieur le Comte" that, and she smiled a little to herself.
Clover, her uncle himself as distinct from Lord Polperro, was also dead and gone and done for. Gammon knew of the design and strongly favoured it, for he was annoyed by Mrs. Clover's false position; he wished her to be proclaimed a widow, without the necessity of disagreeable revelations.
They reached the solicitor's office at about half-past five. Lord Polperro entered only to return with a face of disappointment. "He has gone. No one there but a clerk no use." "Couldn't you find him at his private address?" asked Gammon. "Private address? to be sure! I'll go in again and ask for it." Mr. Cuthbertson lived at Streatham.
The maid turned away; and Chester, with an agreeable feeling of relief that at last his journey was ended, took his bag off the cab, and dismissed the man. What a delightful, spacious house! Sylvia had not been so very foolish after all. M. Polperro came forward, bowing and smiling. "M'sieur is the gentleman Madame Bailey has been expecting?" he said, rubbing his hands.
Between seven and eight o'clock they drove up to a house on Streatham Hill, and without consulting Lord Polperro, Gammon went to parley at the door. Ill luck pursued them. Mr. Cuthbertson was dining in town, and could not be home till late. When made to understand this Lord Polperro passed from lethargy to violent agitation. "We must go back at once!" he exclaimed.
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