“I hope that you may not follow him to the Temple, Monsieur,” said Valentine, rather troubled.
“I hope so too,” said the newcomer composedly. “But since I hold a certain position here, having—no matter how—procured the post of an accredited gardener, I shall set about matters quietly. I propose, therefore, to go on attending to my horticultural duties for a space before beginning my investigation.”
Mme de Trélan studied the little man a moment. He seemed an extremely unhurried plotter—either a very cool hand, or one who was inclined to take things too easily. It was impossible for her to judge. It suddenly came to her, however, that the means of communication with M. de Kersaint were restored. When she knew rather more about him she could ask this emissary to bear her letter.
“You want me to help you, Monsieur, I suppose?” she suggested. “But what if I have scruples—I am not sure that I have not? I did not help either of the others, you know.”
“I shall respect your scruples, Madame. Unless you carry them so far as to denounce me, I can do what is necessary without claiming your active assistance. All I shall ask is that you remark on it to no one if I transfer the scene of my labours, in a day or two, from the front garden to the park behind. And now, if you will excuse me,” he concluded, “I will return to my wheelbarrow.”
“Before you go, Monsieur, may I know your name?” asked Valentine. Then she caught herself up. “No, I think I know too many names. I would rather not hear it. It is better for your sake that I should know you only as the gardener of Mirabel.”
Now this abstention of the concierge’s suited M. Chassin admirably. Although he had never been at Mirabel (just as he had never seen its Duchess) it was as well that his name, undistinguished though it were, should not be whispered there. So he bowed a little and said, “As you please, Madame. But possibly you know it already from one of the other gentlemen—from M. de Céligny, perhaps, if he talked to you much about M. de Kersaint, whose aumônier I have the honour to be.”
“You are a priest, then?” exclaimed Mme de Trélan, surprised.
“Presbyter valde indignus,” replied M. Chassin.
“I had not guessed it,” said Valentine. “Though indeed why should I?—Yes, M. de Céligny did refer to the aumônier, now I come to think of it, in connection with the plan of the treasure, but he did not mention the name.”