Then Lucile told her story, from the minute she left the girls to the present time. During the recital they forgot more than once their promise not to interrupt, but Lucile, heart and soul in her story, never noticed them.
Mr. Payton was as much interested as the young folks, for he had entertained a sincere liking for the despondent young Frenchman.
When Lucile, flushed and breathless, finished the recital and leaned back against the cushions, the girls and Phil overwhelmed her with a flood of questions.
“So that was really the chateau old Charloix told us about. Why didn’t you tell us while we were there, so we could have had a good look at the place?” Phil objected. “Let’s go back, Dad,” he added, eagerly. “It wouldn’t take very long and it’s a crime not to give the place the once over now that we have the chance.”
“Oh, Phil, we can’t go back now,” wailed his sister. “I’m a perfect mess——”
“Of course we can’t; there isn’t time, anyway,” said Jessie, sweeping the suggestion aside with a sang-froid that aggravated Phil. “The thing I’m most interested in 163 now is that will and the letters her father left her. Oh, it’s too wonderful!”
“And to think,” said Evelyn, with shining eyes, “to think that all the time we were worrying about you and feeling sure you were lost, you were having the time of your life! Oh, if I’d only had the nerve to follow you!”
“Yes, just think of that lost opportunity,” wailed Jessie. “Such a chance will never come again, never. But, Lucile, dear, do tell us what Jeanette looked like,” she begged, for the fiftieth time at least.
Before she could reply, Mr. Payton said, slowly, “It is a very serious, a very delicate thing, to interfere in the lives of two people, Lucile. In this instance the end justifies the means, but it might easily have turned out otherwise. This isn’t a lecture, dear,” he added, patting the brown head tenderly, “simply a caution.”
“I know,” said Lucile, looking up understandingly into her father’s kind eyes, “and I will be more careful in the future, Dad. But oh,” she offered, in extenuation, “when mystery marches right up to you and begs to be looked into, what can you do? Oh, girls, if you could only have been there—if you only could!”