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Ah! look it's signed somebody, something de Boisdhyver 'ancois that's short for Francois, I guess. Evidently 't wasn't the Marquis himself. Wonder what it means?" For goodness' sake, try to read it." "Wait. Get that old French dictionary out of the bookcase downstairs, will you? I'll see if I can translate." Dan crept softly out, leaving Tom bent over the paper.
"Do you think the father is alive, Dan? that he has communicated with her?" "Not that, mother; I am really in the dark. But I believe that the Marquis de Boisdhyver has some connection with your General Pointelle, and that his stay with us this winter has something to do with Nancy." In response to Mrs.
"Pray, Monsieur de Boisdhyver," replied Dan, with dignity, "Let us have done with make-believe and sham. For two days I have been in prison on that confounded ship yonder, whose villainous crew are in your pay." "You in prison the ship the villainous crew!" repeated the Marquis. "What is it that you say?" "Come, Marquis, your protests are useless," Dan interrupted.
"Because, madame, I discovered that you and the Marquis de Boisdhyver have been in secret communication with each other." "C'est impossible. Te me comprende pas, monsieur. Will you tell me why it is that you can think that this Marquis de Bois what is the name?" "De Boisdhyver." "Merci. Why is it that you can think that the Marquis de Boisdhyver and I have been in secret communication?"
The coincidence of green lights from the Inn and the House on the Dunes, at the same moment, was too marked to be without significance. To what end was the Marquis de Boisdhyver exchanging mysterious signals with some one in that lonely farmhouse, and what did they mean?
But at the present, he understood, King Louis Philippe, was reigning quietly at the Tuileries and, moreover, the Marquis de Boisdhyver, mysterious as he was, did not suggest the political adventurer of whom Dan as a boy had heard his parents tell such extraordinary tales.
In a few moments he was down stairs and in the breakfast-room. He found the Marquis de Boisdhyver already at table, pouring out his coffee, which Deborah had just placed before him. Mrs. Frost had not appeared. Tom murmured an apology for being late, and delayed the black woman, who was on the point of leaving the room, by a question. "Where is Mr. Dan?"
The door yielded and opened an inch or so. Monsieur de Boisdhyver put his ear to the crack. Dissatisfied with the absolute silence that must have met him, he pushed open the door a little further and thrust his head inside. In a moment he disappeared within. Tom realized that the Marquis would soon discover the fact that the room was empty.
He stood there, ear bent close to the panel, intently listening. Tom waited breathless. Not satisfied, Monsieur de Boisdhyver turned about and went into an adjoining chamber, the door of which stood open. Pembroke was about to advance, when the Marquis emerged again into the corridor, having left his lighted candle in the empty room.
"Bien-aime, what will you that I say?" she interrupted speaking rapidly, "I am what you Americans call 'a bad woman', the sort of woman that you know nothing of. I was the woman who sixteen years ago stayed at the Inn at the Red Oak with Francois de Boisdhyver, the woman your mother called nurse, who cared for his little daughter. And now I have told you all.
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