“Oh, no. No. Don’t see it now,” Reggie mumbled. “However. We’re workin’ it out. You’ve done wonderfully.”
“Not so bad.” Dubois smiled. “My genius is for action.”
“Yes. Splendid. Yes. Mine isn’t. I just went and had a look at the museum.”
“My dear friend,” Dubois condescended. “Why not? After all, the affair is now for me.”
“Thanks, yes. Interestin’ museum. Found a good man on the local legends there. Told me the Woman of Sarn used to have children sacrificed to her. That’ll be what Farquhar had in his nice head. Though M. David is so good to children.”
“Aha. It explains, and it does not explain,” Dubois said. “In spite of you, M. David remains an enigma. Let poor old Dubois try. I have all these people under observation - the Webers, the Bernals - they cannot escape me now. And there are good men gone out to watch over M. David in his Maison des lies. Tomorrow we will go and talk to him, hein?”
“Pleasure,” Reggie murmured. “You’d better go and have a bath now. You want it. And I want my dinner.”
When they drove out to Sarn in the morning a second car followed them. In a blaze of hot sunshine they started, but they had not gone far before a mist of rain spread in from the sea, and by the time they reached the Maison des Iles they seemed to be in the clouds.
“An omen, hein? “Dubois made a grimace. “At least it may be inconvenient - if he is alarmed; if he wishes to play tricks. We have no luck in this affair. But courage, my friend. Poor old Dubois, he is not without resource.”
Their car entered the walled enclosure of the Maison des Iles, the second stopped outside. When Dubois sent in his card to M. David, they were shown to a pleasant waiting - room, and had not long to wait.
David was dressed with a careless neatness. He was well groomed and perfectly at ease. His full red lips smiled; his dark eyes quizzed them. “What a misery of a morning you have found, gentlemen. I apologise for my ocean. M. Dubois?” he made a bow.
“Of the Surete.” Dubois bowed. “And M. Fortune, my distinguished confrere from England.”
David was enchanted. And what could he do for them?
“We make some little enquiries. First, you have here a boy - Tracy, the son of Mme Bernal. He is in good health?”
“Of the best.” David lifted his black brows. “You will permit me to know why you ask.”
“Because another boy who was here is dead. The little nephew of M. Weber. You remember him?”
“Very well. He was a charming child. I regret infinitely. But you are without doubt aware that he fell ill on the holidays. It was a tragedy for his family. But the cause is not here. We have had no illness, no infection at all. I recommend you to Dr. Lannion, at Quimper. He is our medical inspector.”
“Yes. So I’ve heard,” Reggie murmured. “Have you had other cases of children who went home for the holidays and died?”
“It is an atrocious question!” David cried.
“But you are not quite sure of the answer?” said Dubois.
“If that is an insinuation, I protest,” David frowned.
“I have nothing to conceal, sir. It is impossible, that must be clear, I should know what has become of every child who has left my school. But, I tell you frankly, I do not recall any death but that of the little nephew of Weber, poor child.”
“Very well. Then you can have no objection that my assistant should examine your records,” said Dubois. He opened the window, and whistled and lifted a hand.
“Not the least in the world. I am at your orders.”
David bowed. “Permit me, I will go and get out the books,” and he went briskly.
“Now if we had luck he would try to run away,” Dubois rumbled. “But do not expect it.”
“I didn’t,” Reggie moaned.
And David did not run away. He came back and took them to his office, and there Dubois’s man was set down to work at registers. “You wish to assist?” David asked.
“No, thanks. No,” Reggie murmured. “I’d like to look at your school.”
“An inspection!” Dubois smiled. “I shall be delighted. I dare to hope for the approval of a man of science so eminent.”
