And Popol was right. It did.
CHAPTER FIVE
PHANTOM FORTUNE
1.
AS she shrank back into the remote corner of the first class compartment, Margot sighed profoundly. She had been thinking of the strange events of the past month and of the bewildering turn in her fortunes.
When she had been released from the hospital, some three months before, she was still very weak. During her illness a religious sisterhood had nursed her with devotion; a famous physician had personally attended her; a great Institute had exhausted its skill in her behalf. She was a record case, they said,—not a trace of the disease showed. She wanted to return to Folette’s and begin work at once, but Madame would not hear of it. “No, my dear, you’re too shaky. You need a good long rest in the country, two months at least. If you have no money I will lend you some.”
So Margot borrowed five hundred francs and went to Barbizon. There in a cottage on the edge of the forest, she slowly regained her strength. Then she returned to Paris.
One afternoon, a few days before she had arranged to return to the modiste’s, she decided she would like to visit the grave of the Mère Tranquille. Once more she sought the little bar on the Rue du Belville. As she entered she had a curious feeling that she had never been away; the fat red-faced man was still reading a paper behind the zinc counter. When she asked where her old friend was buried, he put down his paper and stared at her.
“You don’t happen to be the girl who worked here?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Margot Leblanc?”