‘I don’t know; I never saw her try,’ said Vivian doubtfully.
‘I do not expect she could,’ said the detective; ‘the stupider she is, the safer for the gang. I shouldn’t be a bit astonished if they took part of the swag there, as well as the young gentleman. With such a hue-and-cry as there was over the robbery, it would not be very safe for them to try to sell it.’
‘What do you mean by the swag?’ asked Ronald.
‘Why, the silver, to be sure, young sir, and the other things that they took. Experienced men like them always know that it is safer to let the noise die down before they try to sell the swag, even if it is melted silver in a lump. Now, I shouldn’t be at all astonished if there were some very pretty nuggets of metal hidden about that old dame’s house. What might tell tales in Paris or London may be quite safe in the heart of Brittany, you know.’
‘I’ll tell you where it is,’ cried Vivian, starting up suddenly. ‘It is hidden in the little outhouse where Nanette stays.’
He looked so flushed and excited that Mr Maxwell glanced hastily at Dr Armitage, thinking that all the events of the day had brought on a return of the fever.
‘No, it is all right; he knows what he is saying,’ said the doctor, laying a restraining hand on Vivian’s shoulder.—‘Lie down again, my boy, and tell us quietly what makes you think that the silver is there.’
‘Because one day, just when I first began to get about, I was in Nanette’s stall, and I thought I heard a rat. You know how I hate rats,’ and he shivered at the remembrance. ‘Well, I was poking about in the thatch with a stick to see if I could see its hole, when Madame Genviève came in, and, oh, she was so angry! She looked frightened too, and she shook me until I was so giddy I could hardly see, and she said that if ever she found me poking there again she would beat me with her little stick.’
‘Ah, she did, did she?’ said the little rosy-faced man grimly, while Mrs Armitage took Vivian’s thin white hand in hers and held it fast. ‘Well, we shall see what we shall see. I fancy Madame Genviève will need to put up with a variety of people who want to poke about in her thatched roof.—But by your leave, Monsieur the Vicomte, I shall say adieu, or rather au revoir. The train for Paris leaves Dinard at six o’clock sharp, and I think I hear the man bringing round the motor.’ And with a cheery nod and smile the little man departed, eager to be on the track of the men for whom he and his colleagues had searched so diligently for the last six months.