“Go after the lady? No, no, captain. Without wishing to offend you, you’re not quite cut out for it. I’m not sure that even I . . .”
And he walked away.
Patrice waited. A few boats moved up or down the river. Mechanically, he glanced at their names. And suddenly, half an hour after Don Luis had left him, he heard the clearly-marked rhythm, the pulsation of one of those powerful motors which, for a few years past, have been fitted to certain barges.
At the bend of the river a barge appeared. As she passed in front of him, he distinctly and with no little excitement read the name of the Belle Hélène!
She was gliding along at a fair pace, to the accompaniment of a regular, throbbing beat. She was big and broad in the beam, heavy and pretty deep in the water, though she appeared to carry no cargo. Patrice saw two watermen on board, sitting and smoking carelessly. A dinghy floated behind at the end of a painter.
The barge went on and passed out of sight at the turn. Patrice waited another hour before Don Luis came back.
“Well?” he asked. “Have you seen her?”
“Yes, they let go the dinghy, a mile and a half from here, and put in for Siméon.”
“Then he’s gone with them?”
“Yes.”