Nine Coaches Waiting

"But what in the world for? It doesn't make sense. Unless the girl and Monsieur Raoul -”

"You can leave him out of it," said Bernard sourly. "I've told you she's not snug in his bed. For one thing, what would she want with the boy if that's where she's bound? He'd not be a help, would he?"

"No, indeed," said Jules, much struck. "But-well, the thing's crazy. Where would they go, and why?"

“God knows." Bernard sounded almost indifferent. "And they'll probably turn up very soon anyway. The Master didn't seem very worried, though Madame was properly upset. It's made her ill-she has a bad heart, you know-so the Master told me to get out and scout around the place for them. I've been down to Thonon, but there's no sign…" He paused, and then I heard him yawn.

Beside me Philippe moved a little and stretched in his sleep. His shoes must have been lying near him, and through the blankets his knee touched one of them and pushed it with a small scraping sound over the boards. It was the slightest of noises, but it seemed to fill the pause like thunder.

But Bernard had heard nothing. He was saying, indifferently: "Ten to one it's all nonsense anyway. I probably shouldn't have told you about it, but since you've caught me on your land-" He laughed.

"But why should they be up here?"

"The Master's idea. It seems the girl was seen in Thonon with the Englishman. I tell you, the whole thing's crazy. It stands to reason it's only one of two things; either they're both off together on some silly frolic, or the boy's gone out adventuring on his own and the girl's found him gone and-set off to fetch him back."

Jules sounded dubious. "It doesn't seem very likely."

Bernard yawned again. ''No, it doesn't, but boys are queer cattle-almost as queer as women, friend Jules. And he and the Martin girl are very thick. The two of them had a midnight feast the other night, so I'm told. They'll not have gone far… the boy hasn't got his papers. Depend on it, it'll be some silly lark or other. What else could it be?"

"Well, as long as Monsieur isn't worried," said Jules doubtfully. There was a little silence, through which I heard the hiss of the stove and the shifting of a man's feet. Then Bernard said briskly: "Well, I think I'd better be off. Coming?"

Jules didn't answer directly. He said, in a voice which had a tentative, sidelong sound: "That girl Martin… There was talk. A lot of talk."

"Oh?" Bernard didn't sound interested. As if you didn't know, I thought, lying in my form not four feet from his head.

"People were saying," said Jules hesitantly, "that she and Monsieur Raoul were fiancés."

"Oh, that," said Bernard. A pause. "Well, it's true."

"Diable! Is it really? So she got him?"

"If you put it that way."

"Don't you?"

"Well," said Bernard, sounding amused, "I imagine Monsieur Raoul may have had something to say in the matter. You can't tell me that any girl, however pretty, could lead that one up the garden path unless he very much wanted to go."

"There's ways and ways," said Jules sagely. "He knows what he's about, of course, but damn it, there comes a time…” He laughed. "And she's nothing like his usual. That gets us every time, doesn't it? Fools."

"He was never a fool," said Bernard. "And if he wants to marry her-well, that's what he wants."

"You don't persuade me he's really fallen, do you? For the little English girl? Be your age, man. He wants to sleep with her and she won't let him."

"Maybe. But it's quite a step from that to marriage… for such as him."

"You're telling me. Well, perhaps the reason's more pressing still. Perhaps she has slept with him and now there's a little something to force his hand. It has been done," said Jules largely. "I should know."

"Oh? Congratulations." Bernard's voice sounded almost absent. "But I doubt if that's it."

That's big of you, I thought, biting my knuckles above him while Jules' words crawled like lice along my skin. The stove-top clanked as someone lifted it to drop a cigarette-butt on the logs. Bernard said again: "Look, I must go. Are you coming?"

"Bernard…" Jules had dropped his voice for all the world as if he knew I was listening. He sounded urgent and slightly ashamed. The effect was so queer, so horrible almost, that my skin prickled again.

"Well?" said Bernard, impatiently.

"The girl-"

"Well?" said Bernard again.

"Are you so sure… that she"-Jules paused and I heard him swallow-"that she means well by the boy?"

"What the devil d'you mean?"

"Well… I told you there'd been talk. People have been saying that she… well, has ambitions."

"Ambitions? Who hasn't? Very likely she has, but why should that make her 'not mean well' by the brat? What d'you-" Bernard's voice tailed off and I heard him draw in his breath. He said on a very odd note: "You can't mean what I think you mean, friend Jules."

Jules sounded defiant. "Why not? Why should her ambitions stop at marrying Monsieur Raoul? What does anyone know about her after all? Who is she?"

"An English orphan-I think of good family. That's all I know." A pause. "She's fond of the boy."

Jules said: "The boy will not make her Madame la Comtesse de Valmy."

A longer pause. Bernard's laugh, breaking it, sounded a little strained. "The sooner you get back to that bed of yours the better, mon ami. The night air's giving you fancies. And I must get back. Ten to one the thing's over and they're both safely back in bed. I hope Monsieur gives them hell in the morning for all the trouble they've caused. Come now-"

Jules said stubbornly: "You may laugh. But I tell you that Monsieur Garcin said-"

"That old woman of a chemist? You should have better things to do than listen to village clack."

"All the same-"

Bernard said irritably: "For God's sake, Jules! You can't make every pretty girl a criminal because she makes a play for her betters. Now look, I've got to go. Which way are you bound?"

Jules sounded sulky. "Down towards Soubirous. It's wearing on for morning."

"And your trick's over? Right. I'll go down that way with you. I brought the brake up to the end of the track, so I'll run you down. You go on now while I turn the lamp down and close up."

"Okay." The stove-top clanked again as the second cigarette-butt followed the first. I heard Jules tread heavily towards the door. Beside me Philippe stirred again and muttered something in his sleep. The footsteps stopped. Jules said sharply: "What was that?"

"What?"

"I heard something. Through there, perhaps, or-"

Bernard said softly: "Open the door. Quickly." Jules obeyed. The fresh grey-morning smell pierced the blue scent of cigarettes and woodsmoke. "Nothing there." Jules' voice came as if from a distance. I imagined him out on the verandah peering round the wall.

Bernard, just below us still, laughed his short hard laugh." A mouse, friend Jules. You're seeing a tiger in every tree tonight, aren't you?" He stretched noisily and yawned. "Well I'm for bed as well, though mine'll not be as warm as yours, I'm afraid. What time does the Englishman get up here as a rule?"

"Pretty early-that is, if he's coming up here this morning. I wouldn't know."

"Ah. Well, let's be going. I hope to God the excitement's over down at Valmy. Why the hell the Master should send me up here anyway I can't imagine. Go on, mon ami. I'll turn the lamp down and close up. I'll follow you."

"I'll wait for you."

"Eh? Oh, very well… there, that's it. I suppose the stove's safe? Yes, well… I'd have thought that bed of yours would have put a bit of hurry into you, friend Jules." He was going. His voice dwindled towards the door. Beside me Philippe moved his head and his breath touched my cheek softly.

Jules' voice said, with the good temper back in it: "Ah, that bed of mine. Let me tell you, copain…"