“Perhaps, if one knows the way; otherwise one must ride. A cab is not so easy to procure these days; an omnibus, perhaps. It will be much cheaper.”
“The cab, no. I will not go to the expense,” declared Paulette firmly. “As to the omnibus—well, that too is a venture. How does one tell when to get out? It is all very bewildering, this.” Always a resourceful person, she now looked more worried than Lucie had ever seen her.
“Perhaps we could find some one to go with us,” the happy thought came to Lucie.
“That is well thought of,” said the man, who was a good sort and really quite concerned. “At another time I could accompany you myself, but in these days—” He shook his head. “I am here to look after the business of my son who has gone to the war, I who thought myself retired and comfortable for the rest of my days. But what will you? I cannot let the business go to the dogs. It is bad enough as it is, yet one must hold on to it. I will think what can be done. My grandson might go; he is at school, but when he returns we shall see.”
This relieved the situation in most directions, though Paulette had many misgivings about trusting herself to the guardianship of so young a lad as the little André was, and went forth in fear and trembling. Lucie, on the contrary, was delighted at being able to see something of the city. The rain had ceased, though it was still cloudy. André chattered away, pointed out landmarks, answered questions glibly, and was altogether a very satisfactory companion. Lucie thought Paulette stalked along with the air of being ready to challenge any one who looked her way, and though she bore herself stoically when they came to the crowded crossings, Lucie could see that she was in an agony of fear and dread.
At last they reached the street and number which should be that of Jacques Moulin’s establishment. It was closed, doors locked, windows barred. A notice read: “Fermez; le propriétaire est sous les drapeaux.”
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Paulette, “but this is a thing terrible.”
Lucie was not so easily daunted. “We will inquire next door,” she said, and forthwith proceeded to investigate.
An elderly man answered her questions. “Jacques Moulin?” Yes, to be sure. He had gone, departed to the war. The business had been suspended until after the war; who knew how long that might be? Had one Antoine Du Bois been here recently inquiring for this same Moulin? The man considered. He shook his head. No, there had been no one of that name, of that he was positive.
Entirely at a loss what to do next, the little party turned away after having secured the address of the firm with which Jacques Moulin had consolidated. Paulette scarcely spoke on the way back; she was too deeply occupied with puzzling out plans for the future. Lucie, too, though she kept one ear open for André’s chatter, was disturbed in her mind.