The Exiles (26 page)

“Indeed. But as I said, I have never believed that my sister was dead.”

“And so what is to be done?”

“Neville has promised to help. He has hired some private detectives.”

“And I will help also, Chantel. I don’t know how to go about it, but I will go look for your sister.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Yves. I doubt if you will find her by walking the streets. Neville said we must find the family.”

“Well, perhaps the detectives will be able to do that.” For a moment Yves seemed at a loss for words, then he said, “I have been thinking of the thing that happened between your friend and myself.”

Chantel looked up quickly, searching Yves’s face, and she saw that he was embarrassed. “And what do you think, Yves?”

“I think I made a fool of myself,” he admitted. “He was right to rebuke me for using your name in that place. I have felt so badly about it, Chantel, and I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course I do.”

“That’s like you,” Yves said. He shook his head and said, “I’ve been ashamed of that, and I will ask his pardon when I see him. In public if he desires.”

“He won’t ask that.”

Yves gave her a careful look. “You’re very sure of that, aren’t you?”

“I know him very well, I think.”

“It’s a good thing to know people a long time like that. I’ve moved around so much I haven’t had time to make that kind of relationship.”

A thought came to Chantel, and she said, “What about the woman I met—Dominique?”

Yves blinked with surprise. “She was something out of my past. That day in the gallery was the first time I’d seen her for a very long time.”

“You haven’t seen her since?”

“No. Her husband is old, as I think I told you, and very ill. I understand he requires constant care.”

“You haven’t forgotten her, have you, Yves? I can hear echoes walking around in your voice when you speak of her.”

“It’s too late for that,” Yves said. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “Just tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it. I know many people in the Quarter. I have friends among the Cajuns. I will go ask them. They will remember such a striking girl.”

“That would be good of you, Yves.” Chantel gave him her hand as she rose.

He bent over, kissed it, and shook his head. “Strange thing—a very strange thing indeed.”

Neville looked up as Robert Martin entered his office. He got to his feet, an eager light in his eyes. “Have you found out something, Martin?”

“I’m not sure.”

Martin was a small, nondescript individual. He dressed neatly enough, but his clothes were not stylish. He could have passed for a bank clerk, a tailor, a salesman—practically anything—and one would never notice him in a crowd. Everything about him seemed neutral— his eyes, his hair, and his features were all without any striking difference from hundreds or even thousands of others. Once Martin had told Neville that this was a great advantage in his profession, for he was able to move about without attracting any attention.

“I know you’re anxious, so I came at once.”

“And what have you found?”

“A lead that will probably come to nothing.” Martin shrugged his thin shoulders. “But it’s all we have at the time. To make a long story short, I’ve found a man in prison who says he has seen the girl. He’s a Cajun and has traveled a great deal. He wants money for telling you where she is.”

“Well, did you give it to him?”

“Why, no, sir! Not without your permission.”

“Well, give it to him.”

“It may be expensive. He wants a hundred pounds.”

“Offer him less, but pay it if he won’t come through.”

“All right. I’ll—”

“No, wait. I’ll come with you. Let me get the cash.”

“Well, Lord help you, sir! You can’t give that kind of money to a criminal for what may be nothing.”

Neville ignored the detective’s words. “Let me go alone. He may talk more freely to me.”

“I expect that’s right. He’s suspicious of any police. But I warn you. You may be throwing your money away.”

“I’ll worry about that. You’ve done well, Martin.”

Lamont was a tall, lean man with a sallow face and suspicious-looking dark eyes. “Yes, I have seen this girl three times.”

“Where did you see her?”

“Ah, if I tell you that, then you will have no need to give me money, will you, sir?”

“Tell me again what she looks like.”

“She is very thin and has very odd-color hair like I never see before. It is red but not red. More blonde. But her eyes! I never forget those eyes. Strange. Not blue but like a little violet out in the bayou. You see such a flower?”

“Yes.” A thrill ran through Neville, for the description was exactly what he had hoped for. “All right. I’ll give you fifty pounds.”

“No, I need one hundred pounds. I will take no less.”

Neville studied the eyes of the prisoner and saw an insolence there. He knew he had no other choice. “All right. One hundred pounds.”

“I know you brought it with you. You are very anxious.”

Neville pulled the money from his pocket. It was in an envelope, and he handed it over. “There it is. Count it.” He waited until the man had done so, then said, “Now, where did you see the girl?”

“Do you know the country west of Baton Rouge?”

“Not very well.”

“It is not a good country, some of it, but there is a man who lives there named Simon Tubberville. I was in business with him once, and we see each other from time to time. I meet his wife one time, and I see this girl. He brought them to Baton Rouge. He would not let me come to his house. He did not want me there because he did not trust me. Imagine that! Not trusting poor old Lamont!”

I wouldn’t trust him with a dollar,
Neville thought, somewhat ironically. “Where does he live?”

“That I cannot say. He lives in the Bayou Teche, and I tell you that is one bad place.”

“You don’t know how to get to their house?”

“No. I tell you about the girl. I swear it on my mother’s grave, and I know Simon Tubberville is her father. But that is all I know.”

“Well, tell me about that country.”

“Very bad people live there. Simon Tubberville is not a good man, just as I’m not a good man. You are a good man. I can tell that.”

“Never mind all that. Tell me about the bayou.”

Neville listened as Lamont told of the size of the bayou and its lack of trails. And those trails that did lead through it often were underwater.

“You only go deep into the bayou in a boat, but some have gone in who never came out, if you get my meaning. People there are very close. They do not like outsiders.”

“All right. I’ll find him.” Neville stopped and said, “I am sorry for your predicament. I know God could help you.”

Lamont stared at him. “No, God gave up on me a long time ago. Good-bye now.”

When the door to the town house opened, Neville stepped in and found Yves there with Chantel. It was the first time the two had met since their difficulties, and Yves came forward at once.

“I must ask your pardon. I was totally wrong in that affair we had, and I apologize. If you will go with me to the men that heard it, I will apologize before them.”

“That’s not necessary,” Neville said quickly.

Yves laughed. “Chantel said that is what you would say.”

Chantel was glad that the two men had come to this point, but she was anxious. “What have you found out, Neville?”

She drew him into the parlor, where he took a cup of hot chocolate. As he sipped it, he told them what he had discovered.

Chantel was excited, but Yves frowned.

“That’s bad country. That criminal told you exactly right. Men have gone into Bayou Teche and never come out again. They are a bunch of cutthroats and robbers.”

“Nevertheless, I’m going there.”

Yves said at once, “Then I will go with you. I know many people in the Baton Rouge area, even some on the outer edges of Bayou Teche.”

“All right, we’ll go together,” agreed Neville. “Chantel, we’ll get word to you as soon as—”

“I’m going with you. No one would know Veronique except me.”

Both men tried to dissuade Chantel, but she kept the argument short. “She’s my sister, and I’m going with you. That’s all there is to it.”

“Stubborn as a bulldog.” Yves laughed. “All right. When do we leave?”

“First thing in the morning,” Neville said. “We’ll pick you up before dawn, Chantel.”

After the two men left, Chantel was too excited to sleep. She walked the floor, and finally in a gesture of exultation, she lifted her hands above her head and cried, “Thank you, God! Thank you, God! Thank you, God!”

Elise came in. “Did you call for me?”

“No.” Chantel smiled sweetly. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Chapter twenty-three

Elise protested against Chantel’s making the trip with two gentlemen, but she gave up when sharply rebuked. Chantel would not be stopped.

She was dressed and her bag packed when Neville arrived very early in the morning. She had slept little, and when she settled down beside Neville in the carriage, she said, “What about Yves?”

“We’ll pick him up, and then we’ll be on our way. Have you had breakfast?”

“No, but I’m not hungry.”

“We need to eat. It’s going to be a hard trip.”

Yves was waiting, holding a bag. He climbed into the backseat of the carriage, and Neville drove to a small restaurant that he knew opened very early. When they had finished a quick breakfast, none of them saying a great deal, Yves said, “I hope your horses are good.”

“I think you’ll find them adequate,” Neville said with a slight grin. He was proud of his horses, for they were indeed a prize—a matched set of bays. They were just the right team for such a quick day’s journey. “It’s fifty miles to Baton Rouge, more or less, and the roads aren’t good. But I think these two can do it.”

“What are their names?” Chantel asked curiously.

“Castor and Pollux.”

“What strange names. What do they mean?”

“Do you know anything about the constellations of the stars?”

“No, almost nothing.”

“Well, if it’s clear tonight, I’ll show you a constellation called the Twins. It’s two figures that seem to be holding hands, and the heads of each are almost the brightest stars in the sky some nights. One’s called Castor and one’s called Pollux. Mariners use them a lot in their navigation.”

“We’ll have to navigate to Baton Rouge if the roads are bad, and we’re bound to be axle-deep in mud with all this rain,” Yves said.

His words were fulfilled, for the roads were terrible. Heavy rains had fallen, and they passed by more than one heavy-loaded wagon mired down in the mud. But Castor and Pollux more than justified Neville’s boast. They were not the fastest animals, but they were strong and capable of a full day’s journey, even under such poor conditions.

At noon they stopped and had a quick meal at an inn, then after an hour’s rest for the team, they continued. The rain started to fall when they were an hour out of Baton Rouge, and by the time they pulled into the port city, Chantel was tired, wet, and miserable.

Yves had been watching her closely and said, “We’ll stay here tonight. Get a good room, a good meal, and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go on to Bayou Teche and see what we can do.”

The Majestic Hotel was somewhat less than its name implied, but the room Chantel had was very nice. She was able to have a hot bath and afterwards came down to find Neville waiting for her. He was alone and said quickly, “Yves went to see a fellow he knows who may be of some help in our search.”

“I’m starving,” Chantel said.

“I can’t vouch for the food here, but we’ll hope for the best.”

The meal was good. They had crawfish
étouffée
and filet of snapper and cups of gumbo. When they were finished with the meal, they rose.

Chantel said, “I don’t think I can sleep, although I’m very tired.”

“Let’s sit out on the porch for a while. You’ll get sleepy soon.”

It was strangely warm for October. They found chairs out on the wide porch and were all alone. The lights of Baton Rouge were faint and dim, for it was a small place compared with New Orleans.

They sat there for a time, and finally Chantel said, “Neville, will you tell me something?”

“If I can.”

“Tell me how you came to know God so well.”

“Well, it’s not a very dramatic story, I’m afraid. I know some men who tell about their conversion, and it’s almost terrible how they ran from God, and God had to practically destroy them before they would bow their heads to him.”

“How old were you when you found God?”

“I was sixteen.”

Chantel smiled. “I’ll bet you were one of those very good boys. One that the other boys hated because their mothers would say, ‘Why can’t you be good like Neville?’”

“Oh, I wasn’t all that good,” Neville laughed. Chantel’s mind amused him. She had an active imagination, and he had thought more than once she would be a great writer if she would put her hand to it. “I had a few youthful sins.”

“Tell me about them!”

“No, I certainly will not.”

“Pooh, I want to hear!”

“All right. You tell me about your youthful sins.”

Chantel laughed, a good sound in the night air. She pulled her coat closer around her and said, “All right. We’ll tell those only to God.”

“That’s a good idea. Actually I didn’t get into some of the gross sins that other young men my age got into, and I don’t know why. I never had a mother, but I always thought of her in heaven. And since I never seemed to please my father, I wanted desperately to please the Lord. I think I stayed out of trouble in the hope that I could someday see my mother in eternity.”

“That’s practically what happened to me! After Mama died, I thought about God all the time, and I wanted to know she was in heaven.”

Neville smiled at her. “We talked about that the very first time we met. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do. And I also heard you preach about it one time.”

Neville was astonished. “How could that be?”

“The time you came and preached at the Methodist church. I put on a black dress and disguised myself as a widow with a dark, heavy veil.”