“Has not some one else been asking for him, a gentleman with a white beard and a slight stoop?” asked Beautrelet, who knew Massiban’s appearance from the photographs in the newspapers.
“Yes, the gentleman came about ten minutes ago; I showed him into the drawing room. If monsieur will come this way—”
The interview between Massiban and Beautrelet was of the most cordial character. Isidore thanked the old man for the first-rate information which he owed to him and Massiban expressed his admiration for Beautrelet in the warmest terms. Then they exchanged impressions on the document, on their prospects of discovering the book; and Massiban repeated what he had heard at Rennes regarding M. de Vélines. The baron was a man of sixty, who had been left a widower many years ago and who led a very retired life with his daughter, Gabrielle de Villemon. This lady had just suffered a cruel blow through the loss of her husband and her eldest son, both of whom had died as the result of a motor-car accident.
“Monsieur le baron begs the gentlemen to be good enough to come upstairs.”
The servant led the way to the first floor, to a large, bare-walled room, very simply furnished with desks, pigeon-holes and tables covered with papers and account-books.
The baron received them very affably and with the volubility often displayed by people who live too much alone. They had great difficulty in explaining the object of their visit.
“Oh, yes, I know, you wrote to me about it, M. Massiban. It has something to do with a book about a needle, hasn’t it, a book which is supposed to have come down to me from my ancestors?”
“Just so.”
“I may as well tell you that my ancestors and I have fallen out. They had funny ideas in those days. I belong to my own time. I have broken with the past.”
“Yes,” said Beautrelet, impatiently, “but have you no recollection of having seen the book?—”