A Nest of Spies Part 47

By hook or by crook, he must see the contents of this telegram which his travelling companion was reading with frowning brows. But Fandor might squint in the gla.s.s for the reflection of the message, pa.s.s behind the abbe to peep over his shoulder while pretending to examine the posters decorating the garage walls: he had his pains for his reward: it was impossible to decipher the text.... He must await developments.

When the car was ready to start he decided to speak.

"You have not received vexatious instructions, I hope, Monsieur l'Abbe?"

"Not at all!"

"There is always something disquieting about a telegram!"

"This one tells me nothing I did not know already--at least, suspected! The only result is that instead of going to Havre we shall now go to Dieppe."

"Why this change of destination?" was Fandor's mental query. "And what did this precious priest suspect?"

The abbe was giving the chauffeur instructions.

"You will leave Rouen by the new route.... You will draw up at an hotel which you will find on the right, named, if my memory does not play me false, _The Flowery Crossways_."

"A pretty name!" remarked Fandor.

"A stupid name," replied the abbe. "The house does not stand at any cross-roads, and the place is as flowerless as it is possible to be!"

There was a pause. "That matters little, however, Corporal: the quarters are good--the table sufficient. You shall judge for yourself now: here is the inn!"

Under the skillful guidance of the chauffeur, the car turned sharply, and pa.s.sed under a little arch which served as a courtyard entrance.

The car came to a stand-still in a great yard, crowded with unharnessed carts, stablemen, and Normandy peasants in their Sunday best.

A stout man came forward. His head was as hairless as a billiard ball.

This was the hotel-keeper. To every question put by the little abbe he replied with a broad grin which displayed his toothless gums. His voice was as odd as his appearance, it was high-pitched and quavering.

"You can give us dinner?"

"Why, certainly, Monsieur le Cure."

"You have a coach-house where the car can be put up?"

With a comprehensive sweep of his arm, mine host of _The Flowery Crossways_ indicated the courtyard. The carts of his regular clients were left there in his charge: he could not see why the motor-car of these strangers could not pa.s.s the night there also.

"And you can reserve three rooms for us?" was the little abbe's final demand.

This time the face of mine host lost its jovial a.s.surance.

"Three rooms? Ah, no, Monsieur le Cure--that is quite impossible!...

But we can manage all the same.... I have an attic for your chauffeur, and a fine double-bedded room for you and Monsieur the corporal....

That will suit you--I think?"

"Yes, quite well! Very well, indeed!" declared Fandor, delighted at this opportunity of keeping his queer travelling companion under his eye.

The little abbe was far from satisfied.

"What! You have not two rooms for us?" he expostulated. "I have a horror of sharing a room with anyone whatever! I am not accustomed to it; and I cannot sleep under those conditions!"

"Monsieur le Cure, it's full up here! I have a wedding party on my hands!"

"Well, then is there no hotel near by, where I can."...

"No, Monsieur le Cure: I am the only hotel-keeper about here!"

"Is it far to the parsonage?"

"But, my dear Abbe!" protested Fandor: "I beg of you to take the room!

I can sleep anywhere ... on two chairs in the dining-room!"

"Certainly not!" declared the little priest. He turned to the hotel-keeper: "Tell me just how far the parsonage is from here?"

"At least eight kilometres."

"Oh, then, it is out of the question! What a disagreeable business this is!... We shall pa.s.s a dreadful night!"

The abbe was greatly put out.

"No, no! I will leave the room to you!" again protested Fandor.

"Do not talk so childishly, Corporal! We have to be on the road again to-morrow. What good purpose will it serve if we allow ourselves to be over-fatigued and so fit for nothing?... After all, a bad night will not last forever!... We must manage to put up with the inconvenience."

Fandor nodded acquiescence. Things were going as he wished.

"Dinner at once!" ordered the abbe.

An affable Normandy girl laid their table in a small room: a profusion of black c.o.c.ks with scarlet combs decorated the paper on its walls.

The effect was at once bewildering and weirdly funereal.

Meanwhile the abbe walked up and down in the courtyard; to judge by his expression he was in no pleasant frame of mind.

When he came to table, Fandor noticed that he forgot to p.r.o.nounce the Benedicite. He was still more interested when the ecclesiastic attacked a tasty chicken with great gusto.

"This is certainly the 1st of December, therefore a fast day according to the episcopal mandate, which I have read ... and behold my little priest is devouring meat! The hotel-keeper offered us fish just now, and I quite understood why, but it seems fasting is not obligatory for this priest--unless this priest is not a priest!"

Whilst the abbe was enjoying his chicken in silence, with eyes fixed on his plate, Fandor once again subjected him to a minute examination.

He noted his delicate features, his slim hands, his graceful att.i.tudes: he was so impressed by this and various little details, that when the abbe, after dessert and a last gla.s.s of cider, rose and proposed that they should go up to their room for the night, Fandor declared to himself:

"My head on a charger for it! I bet that little abbe is a woman, then more mystery, and a probable husband or lover who may come on the scene presently! Fandor, my boy, beware of this baggage! Not an eye must you close this night!"

The priest had had the famous package taken upstairs and placed at the foot of his bed.

Fandor and the abbe wished each other good night.

"As for me," declared Fandor, unlacing his boots, "I cannot keep my eyes open!"

"I can say the same," replied his companion.