"Good lord!... I shall catch it hot! We were to start at eight!"
He dressed hastily; ran down to the yard; stared about him: his car had vanished. Was he still dreaming?... He ran round to the front of the hotel—no car! Was the car stolen?... Had they set off without him?... The hotel-keeper was marketing in Rouen.... The stablemen could throw no light on this mystery.
"Probably one of your masters has gone for a turn," suggested a man.
The chauffeur's anger grew.
"If they've dared to!" he shouted. "It is not their car!... I'm not in their service!... That curé came to my garage yesterday and hired my car for an outing.... What business has this curé or his soldier to move my car?... I'll teach them who and what I am!"...
The farm boys, stable lads and men were shouting with laughter at the chauffeur's fury. Said one:
"You know their room, don't you?... Why not see if they are in it?... Make sure you have cause for all this dust up!"
The chauffeur rushed upstairs four at a time! He banged on the door of the room taken by his temporary employer and the corporal—banged and thumped!... No response!... He tried the door—unlocked!... He opened it, looked in—empty!
Cursing and raging, the chauffeur clattered downstairs and collided with the hotel-keeper.
"Where is my curé?" shouted the chauffeur.