The nocturnal adventure caused quite an excitement in the house, and very little else was talked of at lunch-time. Aunt Anne had asked Mademoiselle Belvoir if she would rather nothing was said about the affair; but the girl said it was impossible to keep it quiet, as several people had heard the in the night, and were anxious to know all about it. So Miss Britton found that she and her niece were objects of general interest, and they both struggled nobly to describe the adventure to the others, though Barbara knew that she got horribly mixed in her French tenses, and was not quite sure whether she understood all the questions the French people put to her. The annoyed her most—he was so superior.
"Why did you not rush upon the fellow and scream for help?" he said.
"I was far too frightened to do anything of the kind," Barbara answered indignantly. "I would never have dared to fling myself upon a dark figure like that. If I had seen him, I shouldn't have minded so much."
"So you did not see his face?" said the solicitor.
"Of course I didn't," and Barbara rather crossly. "If I had, I should have gone and described him to the police the first thing this morning."
She felt inclined to add that it was a pity he could not inculcate his own children with some of his apparent courage, for they both seemed far more frightened than interested in the story, and the son's eyes looked as if they would jump out of his head. Perhaps the poor youth was scolded for his timidity afterwards, for when Barbara passed their room in going upstairs to get ready to go out, she heard the father speaking in very stern tones, and the boy murmuring piteously, "Oh, father! oh, father!"
Miss Britton was in a hurry to get out; but, as often happens, it proved a case of "more haste, less speed," for they had just got into the street when Barbara remembered she had left her purse behind, and had to run back for it.
What was her on opening the bedroom door to see the solicitor's son near the window. She had come upstairs very softly, and he had not heard her till she was in the room; then he turned round suddenly, and sprang back with a face filled with terror.
"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed in astonishment, and at first he could not answer for fright.
"I—I—came to look at the place where the man was last night," he at last, "and to see how he could get out of the window."
"Well, I think your curiosity has run away with your politeness," Barbara said. "You might have seen from the garden that the balcony is quite close enough to the tree for any one to get out easily. Is there anything else you would like to examine?"
She need hardly have asked, for he had hurried round to the door before she had half finished speaking, and, only murmuring, "I'm sorry," fled . She was really rather sorry for him; he looked so . Nevertheless, she took the precaution of locking the door and putting the key under the mat. She went downstairs more slowly than she had come up, for the boy's visit had made her feel rather queer.
The way he shrank back into the window when she came in had reminded her so much of the manner in which the black figure had acted in the night, and she felt there was something uncanny about the whole thing. However, she made up her mind to say nothing to her aunt just then in case of spoiling her afternoon's pleasure, but she was quite to make some rather remarks to the solicitor that evening when no one else was listening, and see how he took them.
Unfortunately, however, she had no opportunity of doing so, for when they went down to dinner, none of the solicitor's family were visible, and Mademoiselle Belvoir remarked that they had all gone out to the theatre, and would not be back till late. The remarks, Barbara supposed, must be till the morrow; but, ! she never had a chance of making them, for early on the morrow the whole house learned that the solicitor, with his son and daughter, had gone, with no intention of returning.
Mademoiselle Belvoir and her brother had waited up till long after the time they should have returned, and then the brother had hurried to the préfecture to report the matter. He had been growing very suspicious of late, as the solicitor had not paid anything for three weeks: "Waiting for his cheque-book, which had been mislaid," he had said. But the suspicions had been acted on too late, and his mother was cheated out of ever so much money. Every one was highly indignant, and Miss Britton and her niece really felt very grieved that they should have been British subjects who had behaved so badly.
Aunt Anne said she almost felt as if she ought to pay for them and save the honour of their country, but Barbara thought that would be too quixotic. At first Mademoiselle Belvoir thought there might be something inside the man's trunks that would repay them a little for the money lost; but, on being opened, there proved to be nothing but a few old clothes, and Mademoiselle and her brothers remembered that the boy had often gone out carrying parcels, which they used to laugh at.
When all this was being discussed, Barbara thought she might as well tell about finding the boy in her room, and she mentioned her suspicions that he and the nocturnal visitor were one and the same person, and found to her surprise that the Belvoirs had thought the same. Poor things! Barbara was sorry for them, for it was an unpleasant occurrence to happen in a pension, and might make a difference to them in future, apart from the fact that they could hear nothing of the lost money, nor yet of the .
Barbara felt that hitherto her adventures in France had been quite like a story-book, and knew that when her brother Donald heard of them he would be making all kind of wonderful plans for the discovery of the .
"He would fancy himself an amateur detective at once," she said to her aunt. Whereupon that lady returned grimly she would gladly become a detective for the time being if she thought there was any chance of finding the , but that such people usually hid their tracks too well. Nevertheless, Barbara noticed that she eyed her fellow-men with great suspicion, and one day she persisted in pursuing a gentleman with blue glasses, whom she declared was the solicitor in disguise, till he noticed them and began to be .
"I'm sure it isn't he, aunt," Barbara whispered, after they had followed him successfully from Notre to St. Etienne, and from there to Napoleon's Tomb. "He speaks French—I heard him. Besides, he is too stout for the solicitor."
"He may be padded," Aunt Anne said wisely. "People of that kind can do anything. There is something in his walk that assures me it is he, and I must see him without his spectacles."
Barbara followed rather , though she could not help thinking with amusement how the family would laugh when she wrote and described her aunt in the role of a detective. She was not to be very successful, however, for, as they were sauntering after him down one of the galleries of the Museum, the blue-spectacled gentleman suddenly turned round, and in a of French asked to what pleasure he owed Madame's close interest, which, if continued, would cause him to call up a . "If you think to steal from me, I am far too well prepared for that," he concluded.
"Steal!" Aunt Anne echoed indignantly. "We are certainly not thieves, sir, whatever you may be." Barbara was thankful that apparently his knowledge of English was so slight that he did not understand the remark. It was not without difficulty that she prevailed upon her aunt to pass on and cease the wordy argument, which, she pointed out, was not of much good, as neither understood the other's language well to answer to the point.
"We shall have all the visitors in the Museum round us soon," she urged, with an glance at the people who were drawing near, "and shall perhaps be turned out for making a ."
"Then I should go at once to the English ambassador," Aunt Anne said with dignity. "But, as I have now seen his eyes and am assured he is not the man we want, we can pass on," and with a stately bow, and the remark that if he annoyed her in future she would feel compelled to complain, she moved away, Barbara following, with amusement and vexation.