“Indeed, as you say, he went skipping over it like a grasshopper.”
“Rather say gliding like a snake. I never saw a man whose movements more resembled the Devil in serpent shape—except one.”
The thought of this one, who is Richard Darke, causes Helen Armstrong to suspend speech; at the same time evoking a sigh to the memory of another one—Charles Clancy.
“Shall we return into the house?” asks Jessie, after a pause.
“For what purpose?”
“To tell Luis of what we’ve seen; to warn him about Fernand.”
“If we did the warning would be unheeded. I fear Monsieur Dupré will remain unconvinced of any intended treachery in his trusted servant, until something unpleasant occur; it may be something disastrous. After all, you and I, Jess, have only our suspicions, and may be wronging the fellow. Suppose we stay a little longer, and see what comes of it. No doubt, he’ll soon return from his mysterious promenade, and by remaining, we may find out what he’s been after. Shall we wait for him? You’re not afraid, are you?”
“A little, I confess. Do you know, Helen, this Fernand gives me the same sort of feeling I had at meeting that big fellow in the streets of Natchitoches. At times he glares at me just in the same way. And yet the two are so different.”
“Well, since no harm came of your Nachitoches bogie, it’s to be hoped there won’t any from this one. If you have any fear to stay, let us go in. Only my curiosity is greatly excited by what we’ve seen, and I’d like to know the end of it. If we don’t discover anything, it can do no harm. And if we do—say; shall we go, or try?”
“I’m not afraid now. You make me brave, sister. Besides, we may find out something Luis ought to know.”