The morning surprised her by his continued absence. Never in his life,
so far as she knew, had he behaved like this before. Vituperation of him
gave place to anxiety about him.
She questioned the neighbours. All they knew was that he had been seen
going down to Little Sark soon after sunset.
"That black Frenchwoman of Tom Hamon's twists him round her finger,"
said one.
"You tie him up, Mrs. Guille," chuckled another, "or sure as beans
she'll steal him from you and leave you in the cold."
And then, who should they see coming striding along the road but Madame
Julie herself, and evidently in a hurry;--in a state of red-hot
excitement, too, as she drew near. And they waited, hands on hips, to
hear what she was up to now.
"Where's Peter?" she demanded, a long way in advance. "Tell him I want
him. That man Gard is still on L'Etat, though those fools who went
across for him couldn't find him. Cre nom! What are you all staring at,
then?"
"Where's our Peter?" demanded Mrs. Guille shrilly, with the strident
note of fear in her voice, as she becked and bobbed towards the
Frenchwoman like an aged cormorant.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346