The girl frowned sulkily, and her eyes shifted uneasily from his face to the child’s and back again.
“It’s no business of yours, at any rate,” she said defiantly, at last.
“Oh, yes, it is. You are being paid to look after one child, and you seem unable or unwilling to tell what you’ve done with it, and you try to pass off a much younger one for that given into your care. Such a matter is everybody’s business, and mine especially, as I am a member of Monsieur Bayre’s family.”
“You’d better complain to Monsieur Bayre, then,” said Marie, sullenly.
“That’s just what I’m going to do.”
The girl looked scared for a moment; then she shrugged her shoulders.
“Go then, tell him, and see what thanks you get,” said she, insolently. “Go, I say, if you dare.”
And she shot a steely glance at him out of her blue eyes.
Defiant as her manner was, Bayre detected in the girl’s face an even greater uneasiness than he would have expected, considering the hold the Vazons, father and daughter, appeared to have over their nominal master. He pondered this fact as he left the cottage, and determined to carry out his threat at once.
This he found to be impracticable, however, for on presenting himself at the château he found himself confronted by Pierre Vazon himself, who surlily refused him admittance, saying that Monsieur Bayre had given strict orders that he was not to enter the house.