Nettie’s Secret. Dilly Court

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      ‘I’ve been trying,’ Byron snapped, ‘which is more than I can say for you, Mr Carroll.’ He snatched up a pile of discarded sketches. ‘Is this what you’ve been doing all day? Have you spent all your money on drinking with your friends?’

      ‘Well, I was hoping to sell some of my work,’ Robert said sulkily. He put his hand in his pocket and produced a handful of coins, which he threw onto the table. ‘Here, this is all my worldly wealth. Spend it on food and tomorrow we’ll go hungry.’

      ‘Tomorrow we’ll go cap in hand to Duke Dexter and ask for his help. It’s that or we end up on the streets, Pa.’ Nettie snatched up the money and handed it to Byron. ‘Is there enough for a decent meal?’

      ‘Soup and bread all round,’ he said, signalling to a waiter.

      ‘And a bottle of cheap red wine,’ Robert pleaded. ‘I must have something to calm my shattered nerves.’

      ‘No, Pa. We’ll ask for water. I don’t think there’s even enough for coffee.’

      Robert buried his head in his hands. ‘What have I come to?’

      Madame was standing outside the door to her quarters when they returned to their lodgings, and she started shouting at them before they reached the top step. Even though Nettie could not speak her language, the woman’s meaning was obvious. Byron waited until she slammed the door to her apartment, but his translation was quite unnecessary.

      ‘Amongst other things she said we’re to be out of here first thing in the morning, unless we can find the rent, in which case she wants two weeks’ money in advance. I don’t think the good lady trusts us.’

      ‘I wonder why,’ Nettie said grimly. ‘It looks as if she has our measure.’

      Robert shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, my love. Duke will give me the money. He owes me some recompense for the trouble he’s caused us.’ He sauntered off in the direction of the stairs.

      ‘I don’t know how you’ve stood him all these years,’ Byron said, shrugging. ‘Your dad is impossible.’

      ‘I agree, but at least he’s come round to the idea of asking Duke Dexter for help. I can’t see any other way out of this predicament. Let’s hope tomorrow brings us better luck than today.’

      The gallery was in the fashionable rue de Rivoli, but when they arrived at just after nine o’clock next morning they found it closed and shuttered. They waited for an hour, pacing up and down outside, but no one appeared.

      ‘I’ll have more than a few words to say to Duke when I next see him,’ Robert said angrily. ‘It was a bad day for me when I fell in with that fellow.’

      ‘Something must have happened, Pa.’ Nettie glanced up and down the street, but there was no sign of him. ‘I think we ought to visit Constance. She may know where he is and he might have left a message with her.’

      ‘We’ve got nothing to lose,’ Byron said grimly. ‘I don’t fancy sleeping on the river bank tonight. Lead on, Nettie.’

      ‘It’s really not good enough,’ Robert grumbled. ‘I deserve more respect. I’m a celebrated artist. People used to pay good money for my work.’

      ‘Come on, Pa.’ Nettie slipped her hand through the crook of her father’s arm. ‘You’ll like Constance. She’s a really nice person, but just remember that she knows nothing of Duke’s criminal activities. She thinks he’s wonderful and it would be a shame to ruin her trust in him.’

      ‘She’ll get to know about him soon enough when the police turn up at her door,’ Robert muttered. ‘I hope he’s there, and the least he can do is to buy us a decent breakfast.’

      They walked on, stopping every now and then to ask the way, and eventually they reached the street where Constance lived. Nettie knocked on the door, but after what seemed a long wait it was opened by a middle-aged woman dressed in black. Her grey hair was scraped back into a tight chignon and her eyes were reddened, as if she had been crying.

      ‘I’ve come to see Miss Gaillard.’ Nettie spoke slowly, hoping that the woman would understand, but she waved her hands and raised a sodden handkerchief to her eyes.

      Byron stepped forward to translate, although it made little difference and her tears flowed freely.

      ‘Ask her if she’s Mademoiselle Menjou,’ Nettie whispered.

      Byron repeated the question in French and Mademoiselle nodded, but whatever she said was punctuated by sobs and unintelligible. Nettie was at a loss, but her father stepped forward, and to her surprise he put his arm around Mademoiselle Menjou’s shoulders, making sympathetic noises until she grew calmer.

      ‘Take over, Nettie. The damned woman is ruining my best jacket,’ Robert said in a stage whisper.

      Nettie took his place and guided the distraught woman into the parlour. Mademoiselle Menjou sank down on the sofa, raising a tear-stained face to Byron. She spoke volubly, gesticulating to emphasise her words.

      ‘What’s she saying?’ Nettie demanded. ‘What’s happened, Byron?’

      ‘She says that Dexter turned up late last night and the next thing she knew Constance was throwing things into a valise, and Dexter paid off most of the servants. She is to remain here and keep house with the minimum of help.’

      ‘Tell her we’ll take care of things,’ Robert said eagerly. ‘We could stay here until something better turns up.’

      Byron shook his head. ‘She mentioned the gendarmerie, Robert. The police are involved. It seems as if they’ve been here, making enquiries about Duke’s whereabouts.’

      Nettie gave Mademoiselle Menjou an encouraging smile. ‘Tell her I’m sorry, Byron, and ask her if Constance left a message for me.’

      In answer to his question Mademoiselle shook her head, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She buried her head in her hands and her plump shoulders shook.

      ‘The police might be watching the house even now,’ Nettie said urgently. ‘I think we should get away from here as quickly as possible.’

      Just as they were about to leave, Mademoiselle Menjou caught hold of Nettie’s arm. ‘Château Gaillard,’ she whispered. ‘Beauaire-en-Seine.’ She scuttled off before Nettie had a chance to ask Byron to question her further.

      Nettie turned to him. ‘Did you hear what she said?’

      Byron nodded. ‘I think she was trying to tell you where Duke had taken Constance. If I remember my geography lessons at school, Beauaire is a small river-side town, north of Paris.’

       Chapter Five

      They stood on the bank of the River Seine with their worldly goods piled at their feet. A hurried departure from the lodging house had left them homeless and slightly breathless. Madame had demanded extra money for the inconvenience of having to chase them for the next week’s rent, which Robert refused angrily, but their raised voices had caused a stir amongst the other tenants. They had left the building СКАЧАТЬ