He gave a faint whistle and repeated it three times.
“No answer,” he said. “Ya-Bon’s not there. The battle has begun.”
“But Coralie . . .”
“What are you afraid of for her? Siméon doesn’t know her address.”
There was nobody on Berthou’s Wharf and nobody on the quay below. But by the light of the moon they saw the other barge, the Nonchalante.
“Let’s go on board,” said Don Luis. “I wonder if the lady known as Grégoire makes a practise of living here? Has she come back, believing us on our way to Le Hâvre? I hope so. In any case, Ya-Bon must have been there and no doubt left something behind to act as a signal. Will you come, captain?”
“Right you are. It’s a queer thing, though: I feel frightened!”
“What of?” asked Don Luis, who was plucky enough himself to understand this presentiment.
“Of what we shall see.”
“My dear sir, there may be nothing there!”