Flower of the Gorse

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER VII

  MISCHIEF

  Raymond felt that he had taken the step that counts, and resolved tomake certain inquiries without delay. Already a cautious experiment withTollemache had failed. Lorry had said that he knew nothing ofIngersoll's history before the last five years, and had shown somesurprise at the question.

  Captain Popple, however, had mentioned Peridot; so Raymond climbed thesteep Toulifot, and within five minutes of his departure from Mrs.Carmac's quarters was at the Breton's house.

  As it happened, Peridot was at home, it being the hour of _dejeuner_,and a grateful incense of grilled haddock and fried potatoes greeted thevisitor. He was recognized instantly of course, and invited to enter,and Peridot broke into a voluble expression of his pleasure at findingMonsieur so far recovered that he was able to take a little promenade.Raymond gathered the drift of this speech, as he understood Frenchbetter than he spoke it.

  "I have taken the liberty to call and thank you personally for the aidyou rendered on Thursday evening," he said laboriously. "You and theothers did a wonderful thing. The captain of the yacht has explained itto me. I was injured when the vessel struck, and knew little of whattook place afterward."

  "It was lucky for you, Monsieur, that we happened to be out that day. Ifwe hadn't been passing at that very moment, nothing could have savedyou. The people at Brigneau tell me that the yacht broke in two and fellinto deep water before we were well clear of the reef."

  Neither Peridot nor Raymond had any inkling of Mrs. Carmac's projectedsalvage work by a diver, or the Breton would have added his convictionthat the fierce tides racing along the Finistere coast would render thesuccess of any such undertaking doubtful in the extreme.

  "The gentleman who owns the Hirondelle is an artist, I believe?" went onRaymond.

  "One of the most renowned," said Peridot.

  "His daughter was with him?"

  "The prettiest girl in Pont Aven, Monsieur."

  "Is there a Madame Ingersoll?"

  Now, Peridot was sober as a judge that day, and his Breton wits workedquickly. He did not fail to recall his friend's distress on hearing thename of the Stella's owner, nor his avowed desire to escape recognition.True, Monsieur Ingersoll had not gone to Paris; but Barbe had told himof the journey to Concarneau, and everyone in Pont Aven knew of Yvonne'sclose attendance on Madame Carmac. Moreover, did not Monsieur Ingersollshow terrible anger because of an unhappy reference to the likenessbetween his daughter and the American lady, and had not Peridot himselfpromised to lie like a gendarme if any questions were asked? Now was hischance to serve a generous patron. This little fox of a man, with beadyeyes and cruel mouth, had come there to pry! Very well--he should goaway stuffed with information!

  All this required but a fraction of a second to flash across a livelyFrench brain.

  "Monsieur Ingersoll is a widower, Monsieur." Peridot was merely steppingback in order to jump farther.

  "Ah, yes. I have heard that. His wife died before he came to Pont Aven,I suppose?"

  "Oh, no, Monsieur. Poor lady! I knew her well! Her last words to mewere, 'Peridot, you were born with a caul, and will never be drowned; sopromise me that when my husband and little Yvonne go to sea you willalways be with them.' You see, she went off in a consumption, and----"

  "Pardon!" interrupted Raymond, sorely chagrined by the immensesignificance of the fisherman's words, supposing he had followed theirmeaning correctly. "Will you be good enough to speak more slowly? Whatwere you born with?"

  "_Une coiffe d'enfant, Monsieur._"

  Raymond knew neither the word nor the curious superstition attached toit; but he caught the one thing of vital interest. "So Madame Ingersolllived in Pont Aven?" he went on, and his rancorous tone betrayed venomand disappointment.

  Peridot, convinced now that he was doing the artist a good turn, gavefull play to his imagination.

  "Certainly, Monsieur," he said. "Never was there a more devoted couple.Quite a romance, their courting! She was a fine lady, as anyone can seewith half an eye by squinting at her daughter, and he a poor artist. Herpeople used to come in the summer to a chateau nearby, and one day whenthey met he gave her a beautiful pink rose. Her mother was angry, andmade her throw the flower away; but an artist was not to be bested byany nose-tilted mama. He knew that they went to the church at Nizon; sohe made a paper rose, and borrowed a ladder, and stuck the token betweenthe topmost stones of an arch in the church right above their heads, sothat pretty Mademoiselle Adrienne must see it when she lifted her eyesto Heaven. There was a lot of talk about that rose, and no one exceptthe girl guessed who put it there. If you care to walk out to Nizon,Monsieur, you'll see the faded leaves stuck in the arch to this day. Ofcourse I can't vouch for the tale; but the fact that it is told of thosetwo shows what devoted lovers they were."

  "Is Madame Ingersoll buried at Nizon?"

  That was Raymond's last despairing effort. The fisherman's story talliedaccurately with Mrs. Carmac's version of a sister's marriage and afamily quarrel.

  Peridot thought he had gone far enough: his next effort showed lessexuberance. "No, Monsieur," he said, with a solemn wagging of his head,"when she died she was taken back to her own people, somewhere nearParis."

  "Was she a Frenchwoman, then?"

  "French and American, I believe, Monsieur. Spoke both languages like anative."

  Utterly disheartened, Raymond made off. The fortune he had seen withinhis grasp had melted into thin air.

  * * * * *

  Peridot gazed after him, and pursed his lips. "Now I wonder whatmischief that fellow is up to?" he mused.

  "Jean," said his mother, "come and eat; but first ask the good Lord tosave you from choking."

  "Why, Mother?"

  "Because of the lies you told that gentleman. And that yarn about therose at Nizon!"

  "What business is it of his who Mademoiselle Yvonne's mother was, orwhere she lived, or when she died?"

  "But everyone in Pont Aven knows that Monsieur Ingersoll came here fromParis with the little one. And we women have often said to one anotherit was strange that never a word was uttered about his wife, whether shewas alive or dead."

  "Then it is high time someone spoke of the lady, and I gave her anexcellent character today. All I hope is that it suffices."

  It did nearly suffice. But for the tongue of a garrulous woman, HarveyRaymond would have given his close attention to matters that he mightrightly deem of more pressing and immediate interest; the salving of theStella's belongings, for instance, which came to his knowledge almostaccidentally.

  The more he reflected on Peridot's scraps of history the more he wasconvinced that he had found a mare's nest, despite Mrs. Carmac'sextraordinary outburst in the Hirondelle's cabin. Exhausted andpain-tortured though he had been, he could still distinguish between theraving of dementia and the ungoverned cry of a soul just snatched fromdeath and startled beyond measure by the apparition of a long-forgottendaughter.

  Nevertheless he must have been mistaken. Mrs. Carmac had given way to adelusion. He knew that the absence of children had provided the onlysorrow in the lives of a most devoted couple, and the thought hadevidently taken a subconscious form in the mind of a woman whosefaculties were bemused by cold and fear. Reviewing matters in the newlight vouchsafed by the garrulous Breton, he saw that nearly everycircumstance bore out the theory that Mrs. Carmac and the late Mrs.Ingersoll were sisters. Ingersoll's thoughtfulness in sending Tollemachewith a message concerning the peculiarities of French law (the legalprocedure with regard to the dead man had been intrusted to a localnotary), the fact that the niece visited her aunt, and now the crushingdiscovery that the girl's mother was actually remembered in the village,seemed to put completely out of court any wild theory of an invalidmarriage following an American divorce.

  Of course if such a thing could be proved, if Carmac's English willcould be upset in favor of Rupert Fosdyke, ab
ove all if Harvey Raymondalone knew the whole truth, and could wring stiff terms from Fosdykebefore the latter so much as guessed at the grounds for a successfulclaim, then indeed a new era would open up before the eyes of one whohungered for wealth without having a spark of the genius that mightcreate it honestly.

  He was of that large and increasing class which is in many respects theworst product of modern social conditions. He had little to do, was wellpaid, and traveled far and wide, because Mr. and Mrs. Carmac wererestless beings, and seldom lived more than three months of each year onthe delightful estate they owned in Surrey. Nevertheless a canker ofdiscontent had eaten into his moral fiber. He was a disappointed man,unscrupulous, greedy, a potential blackmailer.

  Mrs. Carmac disliked him, he knew; yet she was retaining his services.That was a puzzle. He must be wary and alert. If not a prior marriage,there was _something_. He must probe and delve into the past. Somehow,somewhere, he would unearth a guarded secret.

  * * * * *

  Luck would have it that he met Captain Popple, standing on the"terrace," with his hands in his pockets and a pipe clenched between histeeth, gazing up at the sky.

  "Good day, Sir," said the sailor. "Glad to see yer movin' around. Now ifI could on'y figure out the lingo they talk in Pont Aven, I'd swap ideeson the weather with any old charac-ter I saw at anchor."

  "What is it you want to know, Captain?" said Raymond, hailing theother's presence as a relief from somber thoughts.

  "Well, to my thinkin', the weather's goin' to clear. The wind's a triflesteadier, and gone round a point to east'ard. At this time o' year thatmeans a risin' glass an' frost."

  "A frost would be more cheerful, certainly, than a gale howling aboutthe chimneys."

  "The sea will fall too. A couple of tides should iron it out, an' I'llhave a peep at that reef."

  "But why?"

  "Mrs. Carmac's orders, Sir. I'm to spare no expense in searchin' forsome boxes an' other oddments."

  Raymond turned abruptly, and walked to a garden seat beneath the windowof the hotel dining room. He moved with a curious swing of the legs, asthough his knees were unequal to the task of supporting his body.

  Popple followed hastily. "W'at's up?" he cried. "Are ye feelin' bad?Been doin' too much, I s'pose."

  "No. It's nothing. Could you--call a maid? If I have a sip ofbrandy--and rest awhile--the weakness will pass."

  The skipper bustled into the hotel and found a waitress."Cognac--queek!" he said.

  The girl smiled. She understood fully.

  "_Oui, Monsieur_," she said.

  But Popple deemed the matter urgent. "Gentleman eel--vare seek," heinsisted.

  "Yes, Sir," said the maid, to her hearer's profound surprise. "I've gotyou. I'll be along before you can say 'knife.'"

  "Sink me!" roared Popple. "Here have I been spittin' French all thistime, an' you can sling the right stuff at me in that style!"

  He received another broad smile, and the linguist vanished. Thenceforththe two held long conversations when they met; but some days elapsedbefore Popple realized that the chat was rather one-sided. The girl hadbeen taught a few slang phrases by an American artist, which, togetherwith a fairly comprehensive knowledge of the average tourist'srequirements, completed her vocabulary.

  * * * * *

  "Lord love a duck, but it's a treat to hear honest English once more!"he said, returning to Raymond, whose pinched face was a ghastly yellow."How are ye now, Sir? Gettin' over it?"

  "Yes. I'm not what you would regard as robust, Captain, and Thursdayafternoon's experiences placed a severe strain on my powers ofresistance. Did you say you expected a frost? The weather is quite mildtoday, don't you think? Sit down, and join me in a drink when the brandycomes."

  "Don't mind if I do, Sir. But are you sure you oughtn't to be in bed?"

  "Quite sure. I walked a little too far, and I find these hillstrying--that is all. Ah, here comes Marie with the medicine."

  "Is that your name--Marie?" inquired Popple, eying the girl admiringly.

  "Yes, Sir," and a pair of fine Breton brown eyes sparkled.

  "An' very nice too!" said he. "Mighty fetchin' rig the gals have in thispart," he went on, pouring out some brandy for Raymond, which the latterdrank neat. "They look like so many dandy housemaids got up for a fancyball. Now, if my old woman could see me makin' googoo eyes at a tastybit like Marie--well, there'd be a double entry in the family log."

  "What's this nonsense that Mrs. Carmac has got into her head aboutsalving certain articles from the Stella?" said Raymond, whose voice hadregained its normal harshness of tone. Small men usually have strongvoices. Your giant of a fellow will pipe in a childish treble.

  "Why do you say it's nonsense, Sir?" demanded Popple sharply.

  "What else can it be? Salvage, in relation to a yacht pounded to pieceson an exposed reef two days ago! I don't think 'nonsense' too strong aterm."

  "It wouldn't be if every mortal thing had been bangin' on those rocksever since. But the Stella was partin' amidships afore we were clear ofher. She'd slip over into deep water within a few minutes, an' lie therequiet enough. Anyhow, them's my orders."

  Raymond might be cantankerous because of his disablement; but Popple hadsuddenly remembered that Mrs. Carmac had resented the secretary'searlier interference. Raymond, however, helped to smooth over thedifficulty.

  "Of course I am only expressing an opinion," he said. "I admit it is notworth much. A little while ago I was speaking to Larraidou, thefisherman whom people here call Peridot, you know, and had I known thenof your project I should have asked him what he thought of it."

  "The sea is one big mystery, an' that's a fact," said Popple, refillinghis pipe, and nodding his head to emphasize a bit of sententiousphilosophy born of experience. "It'll gobble up a ship, an' you'll neverfind a scrap of timber or a life belt to tell you what's become of her,an' in the next breath it'll show a thing as plain as though it was writin a book. A friend of mine, skipper of a Hull trawler, missed adeckhand one day, and no one knew what had become of him. That nightthey shot the trawl in sixty fathom o' water, an' brought up the man'sbody. That's w'at the sea can do, Sir. Talk of women bein' fickle--theyain't in it with the most changeable thing on this earth."

  Raymond poured out a second glass of brandy. "At any rate, you'll notrecover a dead body from the Stella's wreckage," he said, with a ghastlygrin.

  "You never can tell," said Popple.

  "But surely, Captain, you don't pretend that the finding of a drownedsailor in a trawl net was other than an accident?"

  "That's as may be. S'pose some poor wastrel had been charged withknockin' a matey on the head an' chuckin' him overboard. The doctor'sevidence would clear him. Then it 'ud ha been providential."

  "I shall refuse to believe that you will retrieve any of the Stella'scontents until I see them. Of course I know why Mrs. Carmac is soanxious that the effort should be made. There were thousands of pounds'worth of pearls and diamonds in her jewelcase. One pearl necklace alonecost ten thousand pounds many years ago, and would fetch far moretoday."

  "Queer you should mention that, Sir," commented Popple.

  "Why?" The question came with strange eagerness. The prospect of salvagewas either fascinating or highly distasteful to Raymond.

  "Because that's the one thing I shouldn't expect to come across."

  "You are speaking in riddles, Man. What have you in your mind?"

  Popple turned a mildly inquiring eye on this testy companion. Hethought, "That drop o' spirit has gone the wrong way, my friend." Butwhat he said was, "I was thinkin' of the sea's whims. It'll hide asix-decked liner an' give up a corpse. If Mrs. Carmac was keen set onpickin' up a pair o' scissors, I'd back them to turn up as ag'in' yourten-thousand-pound necklace. Mebbe that's a silly thing to say in thiscase. Her jew'ls are in a locked box, an' a strong one at that, becauseI twigged her baggage when it kem aboard, an' the lot was built for hardwear. But
there you are! I'll take care she has a look at the stuff wefind, an' that ends my job."

  "You can count on me, Captain, for all the assistance I can render,"said Raymond, and the subject dropped.

  * * * * *

  "By the way," he went on, adopting the most nonchalant tone he couldcommand, "have you met Mrs. Carmac's niece since we came ashore?"

  "Me, Sir? No. Didn't know there was any such young woman."

  "You have not been told, then, that Mrs. Carmac found a long-lost niecein Miss Yvonne Ingersoll?"

  Popple slapped a stout thigh, and his eyes rounded in surprise. "Sinkme! but that explains it!" he cried.

  "Explains what?"

  "I wondered where I had seen the girl in bib an' tucker afore."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, these here caps an' streamers an' tickle-me aprons do make a heapof difference! Now what in the world will she think of me? I've passedher a dozen times without ever a 'Thank you, Miss,' or a touch of mehat. Dash my buttons! I thought my eyes were sharper'n that! Of courseshe was wrapped in a sou'wester an' oilskin the other day, an' so wasMrs. Carmac; so I piped the likeness then, an' even spoke of it to Mr.Ingersoll. But I must ha been rattled when I was in Mrs. Carmac's room abit since. Of course I remember now. That was her, right enough."

  "Would you mind telling me what you are rambling about, Captain Popple?"

  Popple grinned. "There's a pair of us, Mr. Raymond," he cried. "Youdon't seem to know much about the lady, either. You met her on thestairs when you went to see Mrs. Carmac, because I happened to noticethat she kem down as you went up."

  "A girl in Breton costume?"

  "That's it. She's lived here since she was a baby, an' I s'pose she tookto the village ways."

  Raymond was so astounded by a fact that, after all, was not of vitalimportance, that he put the next question literally to gain time for thereadjustment of his ideas. "You have heard something of her history,then?"

  "Oh, ay. She an' her father are well thought of in Pont Aven. A ladywho's stayin' in there," and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towardthe hotel, "tole me all about the pair of 'em. Mr. Ingersoll is by wayof bein' a great hand at paintin'; but he settled down in this littlespot nearly nineteen years ago, and has never left it. Miss Yvonne wouldbe a baby then; but she's grown into a damn fine young woman since--an'she ain't the on'y one in the parish, if I'm any judge."

  "Mr. Ingersoll lost his wife here. That probably accounts for his wishto remain."

  Popple's face creased in a frown of perplexity. "That isn't w'at thelady said," he explained. "Her story was that Mrs. Ingersoll died inParis, probably when the baby was born. Anyhow, no one in Pont Aven hadever seen her, as she axed particular. Not that it could ha been anybusiness of hers, but a woman likes to ferret out every atom of gossip,an' there's bound to be a lot of talk about any girl as good lookin' asMiss Ingersoll."

  Popple little guessed--he never knew--what a tornado he let loose bythose words. "Dear me! Dear me! How very curious!" gasped Raymond.

  * * * * *

  And at that moment Yvonne herself came across the Place from LeSellin's, having undergone a process of "fitting" to which her motherwas unequal. The two were alike even in height and figure. If anything,Mrs. Carmac was rather more slender than her daughter, because thegirl's muscles were well developed by long walks and plenty of exercisein an outrigger, whereas the older woman had been self-indulgent andfrail all her life.

  Both men stood up. She noticed their action, and protested smilingly.

  "Please don't rise, Mr. Raymond," she said. "I hope you don't think Ihave neglected you, but I have inquired from Dr. Garnier several timesas to your well-being, and I knew you were in good hands here, while myown time has been occupied in looking after Mrs. Carmac, who was reallyvery ill until this morning. As for you, Captain Popple, I didn't needto glance twice at you to see that a small thing like a shipwreck hadn'tdisturbed you in the least."

  "Miss," said Popple, "you'll believe me, I know, when I say I didn'treckernize you upstairs. Sink me! I couldn't imagine that any young ladycould look so pretty in two different ways."

  She laughed delightedly, for the first time since the doleful twinsisters, Sorrow and Suffering, had discovered her. "Now I understand whya sailor has a lass in every port," she said. "You cannot fail to be asuccess with the girls if you talk to them in that fashion."

  Popple had never before been accused of being a ladykiller. He grinned,and his red face grew purple. "Me, Miss?" he cried. "Bless your littleheart! I was on'y tellin' the solemn truth. You looked like a seafarin'angel when I saw you through the scud an' spray dashin' over that reef.An' now--well, if the folk hereabout want to advertise Pont Aven, theyought to put you on a poster."

  "Captain, I must not have my head turned by such compliments. Wait tillTuesday, our market day, and you will meet dozens of girls who put me inthe shade. Is your arm fairly comfortable, Mr. Raymond?"

  The secretary, whose eyes had glowered on every unstudied poise andtrick of expression that stamped Yvonne as Mrs. Carmac's daughter, evento a markedly clear enunciation, and an almost coquettish sidelongglance when specially amused, had been given time to collect hisfaculties by Popple's tribute of admiration.

  "Yes, thank you, Miss Ingersoll," he said, striving to tune his harshvoice to a note of reverential courtesy. "If I possessed CaptainPopple's gift of speech, I should try to vie with him in imagery. May Isay that I have always considered Mrs. Carmac as one of the moststrikingly handsome women I have ever seen, so I can well appreciate thefact that you are her niece?"

  "Lorry," cried the smiling girl, "come out here and tell theseflatterers how horrid I can be at times!"

  Raymond turned so quickly that he wrenched his arm slightly, and washard put to it to suppress a groan. Tollemache was standing at the openwindow directly behind the seat that Popple and himself had occupied.How long had he been there? What had he heard? Certainly the path of theevildoer was not being made smooth, and the scheming secretary hadexperienced various thrills in the course of one short hour.

  "Mr. Raymond is a shrewd judge of womankind, I am sure," said Tollemachequietly, "and he would never accept my estimate of you, Yvonne. Will yoube home for tea? And may I come? I have some news for you."

  Yvonne simply announced that he would find her at the cottage about fouro'clock. Then, with a hand-wave to her friend and a graceful bow to theothers, she hurried to the annex, running into Peridot as she went.

  * * * * *

  "_Ah, bon jour, Ma'mselle!_" he cried, smiling broadly and flourishinghis cap. "Did Monsieur Tollemache tell you what a fool I made of myselfthe other night?"

  "No," she said. "Nothing Monsieur Tollemache could say would shake myhigh opinion of you. How is Madeleine? I haven't seen her since thesupper party."

  "Neither have I, Ma'mselle," and the merry Breton face suddenly becamewoebegone.

  "What, then? Have you quarreled?"

  "She too was vexed with me."

  "I'll put that right, Peridot. _Kenavo._" [Breton for "Au revoir."]

  "_Kenavo, Ma'mselle_," and Peridot strolled toward the quay, but notwithout a sharp glance at the man whom he had gulled so thoroughly.

  "Lord love a duck!" sighed Popple. "I wish my eddication hadn't beenneglected when I was a nipper. I wasn't brought up. I was fetched up.Just listen to them two! Well, I'll bear in the direction of thetelegraph office. I'm expectin' a wire from Brest about a diver. Solong, Mr. Raymond!"

  "Goodby, Captain. If you want me during the next two hours, I shall bein my room."

  Popple lumbered away, and Raymond would have gone to the annex had henot been stayed by Tollemache.

  "A word with you, Mr. Raymond. I want to explain that Mr. Ingersoll andhis daughter are my closest friends."

  The secretary wheeled round slowly. He had no fear of this stalwartyoung American, whom he classed with the
well dressed, athletic,feather-brained "nuts" of British society.

  "I think you are to be envied," he said smilingly.

  Tollemache did not smile. His frank features were thought-laden andstern. Yvonne would have read his expression unerringly. Lorry wastroubled but determined.

  "I am not parading the friendship for any other reason than as a warningthat I shall not tolerate any prying into their affairs," he said,evidently choosing the words with care.

  Raymond affected vast astonishment. "If you overheard the conversationbetween Captain Popple and me, you must be aware that I knew little ornothing about Mr. Ingersoll and Mademoiselle Yvonne," he retorted.

  "That wasn't your fault, I imagine."

  "I don't understand what you are driving at. Suppose I have shown someinterest in them, isn't it reasonable--people to whom I owe my life?"

  "A most excellent sentiment, Mr. Raymond. Don't forget it, and wanderinto bypaths, where you will most certainly meet me. And I'm a big,hulking fellow, you know, who is likely to block the way."

  "Again I say that I have done nothing to deserve the implied threat."

  "And again I say that I'll lick the stuffing out of anyone who so muchas tries to annoy my friends."

  "I have no wish to feel otherwise than exceedingly grateful to them, andI cannot allow you or any other person to dictate to me in the matter.Your remarks are--incomprehensible."

  Tollemache gave him no further reply than a steady stare, whichdiscomfited Raymond far more than any words. With an angry sniff heabandoned the contest, and walked unsteadily across the irregularcobble-stones that paved the roadway.