“Come a little way with me, sir, and I’ll show you—without one word, too,” answered the young man.
His uncle continued to look at him with scrutinising eyes for some moments; then, agreeing to the proposition with a simple nod, he went out through the gate at the end of the avenue side by side with him.
The young man led the way towards the cottage of the Vazons without a word more, and his uncle being equally taciturn, they trudged on together, in the face of a keen wind, in dead silence.
They met no one on the way, and when they came to the cottage they walked quickly past the window, and the younger man lifted the latch of the door and led the way into the comfortable living-room, which was kitchen as well.
The only occupant of the room, as it chanced, was the baby in its cradle, so that nothing could have been easier than was the unmasking of the two conspirators.
Young Bayre crossed the room quickly, turned the cradle to the light, and pointed down at the child.
“You are paying the Vazons for the care of a child, sir,” said he. “Is this the one?”
The old man uttered an exclamation, and at that moment the sound of voices brought Marie into the room.
One glance at the faces of the two gentlemen showed her that her fraud was discovered, and she uttered a low, frightened cry.
Old Mr Bayre caught her by the arm in a tumult of rage.