The Bars of Iron

by Ethel M. Dell

CHAPTER XXXI

THE RETURN

"Ah! C'est Monsieur Pierre enfin!" Eagerly Victor greeted the appearance of his young master. He looked as if he would have liked to embrace him.

Piers' attitude, however, did not encourage any display of tenderness. He flung himself gloomily down into a chair and regarded the man with sombre eyes.

"Where's Sir Beverley?" he said.

Victor spread forth expressive hands. "Mais, Sir Beverley, he sit up all the night attending you, mon petit monsieur. Et moi, I sit up also. Mais Monsieur Pierre! Monsieur Pierre!"

He began to shake his head at Piers in fond reproof, but Piers paid no attention.

"Sat up all night, what?" he said. "Then where is he now? In bed?"

There was a deep line between his black brows; all the gaiety and sparkle had gone from his eyes. He looked tired out.

It was close upon the luncheon-hour, and he had tramped up from the station. There were refreshments in front of him, but he bluntly refused to touch them.