“You know well enough what girl. You left her there in the room of your house when you went to the cellar for wood. She wasn’t to be found when we looked for her. She wasn’t anywhere about. You’ll have to say where you think she may be, and you’ll have to say it quick!”
Lisle smiled, leaning back against the side of the table and looking the baker over impudently.
“You don’t look as stupid as you sound,” he said.
“Is that so, you young high and mighty. I’ll find a way to take you down a peg. I’ll have none of your impertinence. You’ll give me civil words and you’ll give me a straight answer or I’ll give you something you’ll not relish, that I can tell you. Where is the De Soigné child?”
“I don’t know where she is. I haven’t any idea, but I’m glad she’s safe from you. Who knows, perhaps some one has come to her aid. That’s what I’m hoping.” As Lisle spoke, Humphrey Trail’s honest face came into his mind, and with it a certain confidence. Often during these past weeks he had thought of Humphrey, and gone over in his mind their last meeting. His pride had not let him take Humphrey’s advice and he had kept on with his visits to the bakery shop. He would have given a great deal to have seen Humphrey just at that minute. There was only one other person whom he would rather have seen, and that was Dian, the shepherd.
“There’s one thing I know,” cried the baker, “and that is you need a good taste of a whip. And, as sure as my name’s Charles Tortot, you’ll get it this very night. I’ll see to it that you shed some big tears before you’re many hours older, my fine fellow!” The baker was so angry that he stuttered as he spoke, and his temper was not improved by Lisle’s next remark.
“You couldn’t make me cry and you know it. I’m not afraid of you, and I think you know that, too,” he said. He was still leaning back against the table, his hands on the side of it. The baker glared at him but he had to admit to himself that his prisoner certainly did not look frightened, no matter how he may have felt. The baker looked at him for a moment, at his blue velvet suit, the freshly washed lace frills at his wrists, his white face and blue eyes, and the bright gold of his hair, tied back with its flare of ribbon. A silly whim of his wife’s and one that he should put a stop to. He stood there frowning at Lisle in the dusky twilight, and Lisle’s proud eyes frowned back at him.
Dian came in through the alley and climbed the rickety stairs to the room on the first landing. He had seen Raoul go through the gates an hour before, and knew that with him had gone the letters, one to Champar himself, and one for him to deliver to Grigge in Pigeon Valley. He was thinking of Lisle as he climbed the stairs, trying to plan out the best way to get a message to him.
He knocked on the door and said, “This is Dian,” and Vivi opened it for him, smiling a welcome.