Monsieur and Madame Bontot were the most surprised people in Quimperlé when two elegant ladies alighted from an automobile outside their tiny shop, and inquired for Madeleine Demoret. They were almost astounded when they recognized Yvonne, whom they had never before seen in such guise.
"But why do you seek Madeleine here, Mademoiselle?" cried Madame Bontot, recovering her breath and her wits simultaneously. "I've not even heard from her or her aunt since Jacques was in Pont Aven two months ago. Isn't that so, Jacques?"
"Parfaitement," agreed Jacques, a rotund little man, coatless, and decorated with a tape measure slung round his neck.
Yvonne paled, but was, in a sense, sufficiently forewarned that she did not make matters worse for her unhappy friend by blurting out the true cause of her visit.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It is my fault. I have not seen Madeleine for some days, and I had a sort of idea that she meant coming to you about this time. It was discussed, I believe?"
"Yes, yes!" admitted Madame Bontot instantly. "We should be glad to have her in the shop. Then I could look after the dressmaking, and Jacques could run all over the country for orders. Isn't that so, Jacques?"
"Parfaitement," said the stout man, breathing heavily. In imagination he was running already.
"Well, I'll look her up when I return home, and tell her of my mistake. Then I'll see that she writes to you, at least," said Yvonne.
"Take us to the station," she said to the chauffeur, controlling voice and features with difficulty until safe in the seclusion of the closed car. Then she broke down, and sobbed bitterly; for she feared the worst.
Mrs. Carmac, unable to share this distress on account of some village girl's escapade, felt nevertheless that some minor tragedy was about to be added to the already heavy burden which life had imposed since the Stella was shattered against the inhospitable rocks of Brittany.