It was with considerable difficulty that Ernest discovered the place Mr. Alston was in search of. Finally, however, he found it. It was a quaint out-of-the-way little street, very narrow and crooked, an odd mixture of old private houses and shops, most of which seemed to deal in soap and candles. At last they came to No. 36, a gray old house standing in its own grounds. Mr. Alston scanned it eagerly.
“That is the place,” he said; “she often told me of the coat-of-arms over the doorway—a mullet impaled with three squirrels; there they are. I wonder if it is still a school?”
It turned out that it was still a school, and in due course they were admitted, and allowed to wander round the ancient walled garden, with every nook of which Mr. Alston seemed to be perfectly acquainted.
“There is the tree under which she used to sit,” he said sadly to his boy, pointing out an old yew-tree, under which there stood a rotting bench.
“Who?” asked Ernest, much interested.
“My dead wife, that boy’s mother; she was educated here,” he said, with a sigh. “There, I have seen it. Let us go.”
CHAPTER XV.
ERNEST GETS INTO TROUBLE
When Mr. Alston and Ernest reached the hotel, there was still a quarter of an hour to elapse before the table d’hôte, so, after washing his hands and putting on a black coat, Ernest went down into the coffee-room. There was only one other person in it, a tall fair Frenchwoman, apparently about thirty years of age. She was standing by the empty fireplace, her arm upon the mantelpiece, and a lace pocket-handkerchief in her hand; and Ernest’s first impression of her was that she was handsome and much over-dressed. There was a newspaper upon the mantelpiece, which he desired to get possession of. As he advanced for this purpose, the lady dropped her handkerchief. Stooping down, he picked it out of the grate and handed it to her.
“Mille remerciments, monsieur,” she said, with a little curtsey.
“Du tout, madame.”