“I don’t know where she would be likely to stay. Unless—yes—perhaps at Mrs. Hardy’s.”
“That must be it, Lavinia,” pronounced Madame Carimon.
It was then getting towards nine o’clock. They set out again for Mrs. Hardy’s to escort Nancy home. She lived in the Rue Lothaire; a long street, leading to the railway-station.
Mrs. Hardy was an elderly lady. When near her door they saw her grand-nephew, Charles Palliser, turn out of it. Charley was a good-hearted young fellow, the son of a rich merchant in London. He was staying at Sainteville for the purpose of acquiring the art of speaking French as a native.
“Looking for Miss Ann Preen!” cried he, as they explained in a word or two. “No, she is not at our house; has not been there. I saw her going off this evening by the six-o’clock train.”
“Going off by the six-o’clock train!” echoed Miss Lavinia, staring at him. “Why, what do you mean, Mr. Charles? My sister has not gone off by any train.”
“It was in this way,” answered the young man, too polite to flatly contradict a lady. “Mrs. Hardy’s cousin, Louise Soubitez, came to town this morning; she spent the day with us, and after dinner I went to see her off by the train. And there, at the station, was Miss Ann Preen.”
“But not going away by train,” returned Miss Lavinia.
“Why, yes, she was. I watched the train out of the station. She and Louise Soubitez sat in the same compartment.”
A smile stole to Charles Palliser’s face. In truth, he was amused at Miss Lavinia’s consternation. It suddenly struck her that the young man was joking.