“Of course. He’ll always want to hear about you.”
“And see him.”
“He’ll want to see you too.”
So it was arranged, and Ann promised to be at the hostel next morning.
When Lotta had gone, she sat down and wrote:
“DEAR RENNY,—I do want you to forgive me. I have been awful, but not without excuse. I do like Miss Lotta. She’s been an angel to me and made me feel awfuller. I’m going to her. A letter for you to say you ’ad come into some money. I tore it up when I first began to feel bad toward you. I don’t feel bad any more.—Your loving ANN.”
This confession reached René at the same time as a letter from his brother George conveying the same news. The attorney in Edinburgh had written to say he had no reply from Mr. René Fourmy, and to ask for information as to his whereabouts. “This,” said George, “has been a bit of a shock to us. We’d counted on something from the old lady. However, it makes a difference to you. If you feel inclined to come up and see us I’ll be glad to have you. I suppose you’ll give up the street-slogging. The old man has been in London. Did you see him?”
René announced his intention of going to Thrigsby. His mind was going back and back over his life in the attempt to understand it. If he could see George and his mother, he felt and hoped that he might be able to follow up the threads placed in his hands by his chance encounter with his father.
A day or two later saw him arriving at the Albert Station with his arm in a sling. George was there to meet him.
“Hullo, old sport,” he said, “been in the wars?”