He stood talking with the driver in low tones for a few moments. Grace had walked on up the street, fearing to attract attention. Looking back, she saw that the two men were gazing after her. She dared not turn her head again, but at the next corner turned into a cross street. Then she stopped, and cautiously peered around the corner. The two men had gone to the wagon and were lifting out the large basket. A few moments later they disappeared with it into the house.
After a time, the old man returned with the basket in his hands. From the way he carried it Grace could see that it was empty. He tossed it carelessly into the wagon, mounted the seat, and drove off.
Grace looked at her watch. It was half past seven. She felt cold and hungry, and determined to get something to eat at once. A little pastry cook's shop and restaurant on the opposite side of the street attracted her attention, and she crossed over, entered, and ordered rolls and coffee. She could see the windows of the house into which the two men had carried the basket, from where she sat.
She scarcely knew what to do next. It seemed almost certain that Mr. Stapleton's child was in the house across the way, and yet—it was merely an intuition, a guess, which might turn out to be entirely wrong. Yet she feared to go away, not knowing at what moment the child, if he was indeed there, might be taken elsewhere, and the clue hopelessly lost.
She finished her rolls and coffee, taking as much time to consume them as she could. She had just made up her mind to go, when the door of the house across the street opened, and a man came out. He was dark, and heavily built, and dressed in the costume affected by artists. He headed directly for the pastry shop, and Grace realized that he was about to enter it.
She turned her face away, fearing lest he might have noticed her, as she walked up the street. He did not even glance in her direction, however, but went at once to a counter at the rear of the place.
The proprietor came up to him with a smile, rubbing his hands together cheerily. "Ah! Monsieur Durand. Up early this morning, I see. What can I do for you?"
She did not catch the other's reply, nor did she dare to glance at his face. She shrank back into her corner, and, picking up a newspaper which lay in the window sill, began to read.
The new customer remained but a few moments. When he left, Grace saw that he carried a large paper bag with him, which appeared to contain rolls or bread.
He again entered the house, but this time remained inside but a few moments. A little later she left the shop, and watched him as he disappeared down the street.