He saw from afar the sloop in the place where he had moored it, with the funnel standing between its four chains; observed a movement of carpenters at their work, and confused outlines of figures passing to and fro; and he could distinguish the loud and cheery voice of Mess Lethierry giving orders.
He threaded the narrow alleys behind the Bravées. There was no one there beside him. All curiosity was concentrated on the front of the house. He chose the footpath alongside the low wall of the garden, but stopped at the angle where the wild mallow grew. He saw once more the stone where he used to pass his time; saw once more the wooden garden seat where Déruchette was accustomed to sit, and glanced again at the pathway of the alley where he had seen the embrace of two shadows which had vanished.
He soon went on his way, climbed the hill of Vale Castle, descended again, and directed his steps towards the Bû de la Rue.
The Houmet-Paradis was a solitude.
His house was in the same state in which he had left it in the morning, after dressing himself to go to St. Peter’s Port.
A window was open, through which his bagpipe might have been seen hanging to a nail upon the wall.
Upon the table was the little Bible given to him in token of gratitude by the stranger whom he now knew as Caudray.
The key was in the door. He approached; placed his hand upon it; turned it twice in the lock, put the key in his pocket, and departed.
He walked not in the direction of the town, but towards the sea.
He traversed his garden diagonally, taking the shortest way without regard to the beds, but taking care not to tread upon the plants which he placed there, because he had heard that they were favourites with Déruchette.