The hotel-keeper had an idea they had fled to avoid paying his bill.
The chauffeur cared only to get to the car as quickly as possible, to a.s.sure himself that it was his car, and was not injured beyond repair.
After much haggling it was arranged that a little cart and horse should take him to the desired spot. Meanwhile the hotel-keeper was to go about his duties at _The Flowery Crossways_. The chauffeur must needs return and telegraph to his garage in Paris for funds: he declared he had not a sou on him.
Finally the chauffeur set off; perched on a big white mare which had been rejected time and again by the Remount Department, he took the road at a galloping trot. When he reached Father Flory"s field he gave a sigh of satisfaction. He recognised his car. It proved to be in good condition. Whoever had driven it knew what he was about.
"It was the corporal," decided the joyful chauffeur. "That little cure would be afraid of spoiling his little white hands!"
Surrounded by a crowd of peasants who had hurried from all the farms in the neighbourhood, to see the motor-car which had grown up in a single night in Father Flory"s field, the chauffeur set his car in motion. Hard work! The car had been driven deep into the soft soil....
At last he got to the road.
"A very good evening to you, ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted to the peasants who, with ironic grins and hands in pockets, had watched him at work. Not one had come forward to help him!
He set off at top speed for _The Flowery Crossways_.
Meanwhile the police sergeant, important, in full official uniform, had started for _The Flowery Crossways_, accompanied by the hotel-keeper.
"This affair requires looking into," he announced. "The law will have more than a word to say about it. I must get further information and make notes."
He, with the hotel-keeper at his heels, mounted to the little room where Fandor and the little priest had pa.s.sed the night. The policeman uncovered on entering what he considered a sumptuous, superbly decorated room. He had not the least idea how to set about his investigations in order to get the best results. He seated himself in an arm-chair. He fixed his eyes on the hotel-keeper.
"Do you know the name of these individuals?"
The hotel-keeper, thinking of the eighteen francs he had lost, and of how he could indemnify himself, paid scant attention to the sergeant"s so-called investigations.
"Look here!" he cried. "That"s a good thing! In their haste they have forgotten to take this package!... There may be things of value in it!... I may be able to pay myself out of them!"
The policeman rose: he also examined the package.
"In the name of the law I shall open this package to ascertain exactly what is in it."
The two men undid the rope tightly bound round the covering; but whilst mine host of _The Flowery Crossways_ had no idea of what the contents of the package signified, the sergeant, who had formerly served in the artillery, went white: his voice was stern.
"This is serious--very serious--it is the mouthpiece of a large gun--larger than any I have come across!"
The recovered motor-car drew up before _The Flowery Crossways_ with a flourish. The beaming chauffeur jumped down and went towards the hotel-keeper and the police sergeant.
"It was my car all right!" he cried. "And I believed that never again should I set eyes on it!... When I think."...
The chauffeur stopped short; the unresponsive hotel-keeper and the police sergeant were staring at him fixedly. Not a word did they utter.
The chauffeur stared in turn: then he asked:
"Well?... What is it?... Are you frozen, you two?... What"s the matter with you?... I inform you that I have found my motor, and that"s how you take it!"
The police sergeant answered:
"I must ask you to give us some highly necessary information and explanations.... Do you know anything about the priest and the soldier who hired your car and you?"
There was a questioning pause. The chauffeur broke it.
"I have already told you that I do not know them.... If I did, things would not have happened as they have!... Now, why have you asked me that question?"
The policeman"s reply was another question: his tone was stern.
"Then you declare you had no idea of what they were taking with them in your car?"
"What they were taking with them in my car?" repeated the chauffeur in a tone of bewildered interrogation.
The police sergeant marched up to him.
"Look here, now! It is incredible that you do not know what is in that corded-up package you carried in your car! And now your masters have disappeared; we are to believe that you know nothing about that either!... And now you return!... What is the reason of that?... And is it to be supposed that I am going to allow you to make off again without asking you to explain yourself and this extraordinary situation?"
The chauffeur saw that the hotel-keeper sided with the police sergeant: there was no support to be got in that quarter.
"Explain yourself, policeman!" burst out the chauffeur. "What"s all this humbugging claptrap you are giving me?"
"In the name of the law!" declared the offended police officer, in solemn tones: "I think it advisable to arrest you!... You may consider yourself my prisoner!"...
As the astounded chauffeur could not find words to answer this, the sergeant added:
"Ah! My fine fellow! This is the way, then, you steal guns to help the Germans to shoot the French? It"s a mercy I spotted you!"
"But you are mad!--mad!--mad!" protested the chauffeur.... "You."...
The police sergeant cut him short.
"That is enough!... I am going to take you to Rouen!... You can account for yourself to the magistrates!"
XXIII
LONDON AND PARIS
Juve and Henri de Loubersac pa.s.sed the night on the quay. Daybreak found them marching side by side, keeping their weary watch and ward.
De Loubersac had fallen silent; monosyllabic replies to Juve"s remarks had given place to no remarks at all. Juve looked at Henri and smiled.
"He has gone to the country of dreams: he sleeps standing."
In brotherly fashion, the policeman guided the young man towards the shelter: settled him in, and left him. He was within call if needed; meanwhile, he could have his sleep out.
Filling his pipe afresh, Juve resumed his walk along the quay. He was uneasy; he was also in a bad humour. Why did Vinson and this priest tarry on the way? Why should Corporal Vinson, bearer of this compromising artillery piece, plant himself at a little hotel in Rouen for the night? Had they been warned and stopped? Juve feared so.