“Yes, my lord.”
“I am going into the house,” announced Léonie.
Rupert watched her go, and looked at the lackey again. “Come on, out with it, my man: Where’s his lordship?”
“My lord, indeed I could not say. If your lordship would wait till Mr. Fletcher comes in, maybe he would know.”
“It looks to me like a damned fishy business,” said Rupert severely, and followed Léonie into the hall.
He found her grace trying to pump the housekeeper. When she saw him Léonie said: “Rupert, it is what I do not at all understand! She says the girl was never here. And I do not think she is lying to me, for she is my servant, and not Dominique’s.”
Lord Rupert divested himself of his heavy Rockelaure. “Well, if Vidal’s got rid of the wench already, I’d say it’s quick work,” he remarked admiringly. “Stap me, if I know how he manages it! I always found ’em cling so there was no shaking the dear creatures off at all.”
Léonie cast him a glance of scorn and swept upstairs. The housekeeper would have followed her, but his lordship detained her, and broached the matter nearest his heart. The housekeeper was shocked to learn that the travellers had not yet dined, and hurried away to order a meal to be prepared at once.
When Léonie saw Rupert again dinner was on the table, and his lordship had just come in from a visit to the stables. He took his seat opposite Léonie, and said with a puzzled air: “Blister me if I can make head or tail of this coil. Vidal’s damned lackeys are as close as a lot of oysters. Y’know, Léonie, the boy’s a marvel, so he is. I never could keep a servant who didn’t blab all my affairs to the world.”
“He is coming back,” Léonie said positively. “I have looked in his room, and all his clothes are there.”