“There is one way of making sure: run down to the dockyard, Froberval, and look for one of the men who were on guard in the afternoon, two days ago.—Only, be quick, if you wish to find me here.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes, I shall take the next train back.”
“What!—Why, you don’t know—your inquiry—”
“My inquiry is finished. I know pretty well all that I wanted to know. I shall have left Cherbourg in an hour.”
Froberval rose to go. He looked at Beautrelet with an air of absolute bewilderment, hesitated a moment and then took his cap:
“Are you coming, Charlotte?”
“No,” said Beautrelet, “I shall want a few more particulars. Leave her with me. Besides, I want to talk to her. I knew her when she was quite small.”
Froberval went away. Beautrelet and the little girl remained alone in the tavern smoking room. A few minutes passed, a waiter entered, cleared away some cups and left the room again. The eyes of the young man and the child met; and Beautrelet placed his hand very gently on the little girl’s hand. She looked at him for two or three seconds, distractedly, as though about to choke. Then, suddenly hiding her head between her folded arms, she burst into sobs.
He let her cry and, after a while, said: