In some respects, therefore, Raymond regarded the day as spoiled. But it was far from being a failure in a general sense. He had established a precedent. During the remainder of her stay in Pont Aven, Mrs. Carmac, weather permitting, would surely hire the car every day, and, as she was hardly likely to revert to a smaller and much inferior vehicle, he in all probability would be invited to join her; while Yvonne's presence was assured.
As for other additions to the party, he must take such fortune as the gods gave. The chief and vital consideration was that he would almost infallibly be thrown into Yvonne's company during many hours daily. If he contrived also to establish himself on a friendly footing with her father, he had taken the first long stride toward the goal now clearly visible to his mind's eye.
With Rupert Fosdyke disinherited and discredited, why should not Harvey Raymond consolidate all warring interests by marrying Yvonne? Truly a brilliant notion! It followed the lines of high finance. Better than running counter to your enemy, absorb him! Though he believed he held Mrs. Carmac's millions in the hollow of his hand, were it not for Yvonne, he could act only through Fosdyke, who had flouted him openly, and would assuredly be disdainful, no matter how greatly beholden he might be to an informant. But the fact that Yvonne existed changed all that. Money talks, indeed! Money would shriek in ecstasy if the despised secretary married Mrs. Carmac's daughter.
There were obstacles in the way, of course; first, Tollemache? Raymond had weighed this possible rival's claims carefully, and did not find them overwhelming. Yvonne was the young artist's close friend of five years; but that did not necessarily mean that they were lovers. If anything, such intimacy was favorable to the newcomer. The girl herself? Well, Raymond knew he was no Adonis; but keen-eyed students of human nature had established the axiom that exceedingly pretty women often mated with the plainest of men. Here again the difficulty was not insuperable.
There remained Mrs. Carmac. Willy nilly, she must range herself determinedly on his side! Very gently, very unwillingly, letting the facts be dragged out of him with the utmost reluctance, as it were, he must make her understand that he held the power to crush her financially. During the last few days he had left no stone unturned to secure proof of an astounding romance which depended for credence otherwise on the unsupported testimony of a woman's raving. He had neither blundered nor spared expense.
That very morning, and not before, he knew. The knowledge had sustained him throughout a trying day. Each time he thought of the irresistible weapon now safe in his possession he chortled. No wonder he laughed, even when that impudent steward likened him to a snake! There was truth in the jibe. One person, at least, seated at that luncheon table would feel his fangs. Mrs. Carmac, if left in undisputed possession of her wealth, would be his puppet! She must choose between comparative pauperism and Harvey Raymond as a son-in-law! So, where she was concerned, the money that Fate had showered on her would prove a most potent factor in his behalf.
Once again, then, would money talk. If necessary, it might even sing the song of the sirens in Yvonne's ears. Why, her experiences that day, the very wearing of those costly furs, and the swift whirling over the Breton roads in a luxurious car, were not negligible quantities in the arithmetical calculations that bemused the man's subtle intellect. There was no discernible flaw in them. British law would pronounce the American divorce invalid. It followed that an estate held almost exclusively in Britain would go to the next of kin. And he alone held the key that would unlock this treasury!
Snatches of talk came to him from the three in the back seat. He could make little of it, because all three were speaking French; but when he listened occasionally he gleaned that Yvonne and Tollemache were telling Mrs. Carmac the legends of wayside chapels,—how this saint protected the crops, and that the horses and cattle, how Sainte Barbe arranged love affairs and Saint Urlou cured the gout. Each ill, each blessing, had its patron, who exorcised demons or dispensed favors at will.
Nearing Pont Aven, Yvonne startled him by leaning forward and touching his shoulder. "Why in such a brown study, Mr. Raymond?" she inquired pleasantly, thinking that perhaps the queer little man might feel he had been somewhat ignored. In her thoughts he figured invariably as a "queer little man." Her woman's intuition had suspected that queerness as something underhanded and evil; but his action with reference to Madeleine Demoret had obliterated an unfavorable first impression. Now she regarded him as an eccentric who did good by stealth.