“Will it really make you so happy, my boy?” she asked, wistfully.
“Indeed it will,” I declared. “And now I’ve bothered you long enough. I’ll be around here if you want me. I shan’t go out on the water today, or until you feel quite yourself again.”
I went out of her room. Marie, the Frenchwoman, was just coming up the stairs. I saw her hide her hand with something in it under her apron. It was a square white object. I knew it was a letter. Mr. Chester Downes had been writing to my mother, and Marie was the go-between. She smiled, slyly, as she passed me and whisked into the room I had just left.
Chapter VII
In Which I Put Two and Two Together—and Sleep Aboard the Wavecrest
If for no other reason, that sly smile of my mother’s French maid would have kept me at home that day. I was still strolling about the place, just before luncheon, when I saw Mr. Chester Downes’ spare figure and his tall hat coming up the hill. I went down the path and met him at the steps which mounted the little terrace from the street to our lawn.
“Oh!” he ejaculated. “Are you here?”
“You are just in time to catch me as I was going out, Mr. Downes,” I said. “What have you to say to me, sir?”