‘None, alas! save what Mademoiselle Fédore gave. With wonderful subtlety and instinct—Ah! that it were further quickened by divine grace!—she pieced together little incidents, little trifling indications, which enabled the police to track the miscreant as far as Liverpool. But, after that, no trace. They concluded he must have sailed for America, where he is doubtless even now wantoning, amid the licentious democracy of the West, upon the plunder of the saints.’
He buried his face in his hands and appeared to weep.
I remained silent, greatly perturbed in mind. For there flashed across me those words of Warcop’s, spoken on the morning of my departure, when I sat with him in his sanctum, dedicated to the mysteries of the stud-farm and the chase: ‘By times they—Marsigli and Mamzell—are as thick as thieves. By times they fight like cat and dog or’—with a knowing look—‘like man and wife.’ There flashed across me, too, a strange speech of Fédore’s I had overheard, as I walked along one of the innumerable dimly lighted passages at Hover, one night, on my way from the library, where I had worked late, to my own study. To whom she spoke I did not know, for a door was hastily closed immediately I passed, though not hastily enough to prevent my hearing a man’s voice answer.—‘Ah! you great stupid,’ she had said. ‘Why not what these English call feather your own nest? I have no patience with you when, if you pleased, you could so easily be rich.’—The episode made an unpleasant impression upon me at the time, but had almost faded from my mind. Now in the light of my conversation with Halidane it sprung into vivid relief.
The loss of a few thousand pounds’ worth of jewels and plate was a small matter. But that Mademoiselle Fédore should remain in the household as Marsigli’s accomplice—and that she was his accomplice I suspected gravely—perhaps to regain her power over the boy, was intolerable. As to her assisting the police by pointing out the probable route of the delinquent, what easier than to do so with a view to putting them on a false scent?
‘This is indeed ugly news,’ I said at last. ‘I wonder if the Master knows.’
‘Why not? It was reported in the papers at the time.’
‘Ah! and I was absorbed in my work and missed it. How unfortunate!’
‘Do you think you know anything, then?’ he said greedily, with sharp interest.
But the question I did not answer, perceiving he was curiously anxious to be taken into my confidence.