searched the hedge and shrubbery around the house and out to the road.
"Jean Marie," said I at length, "loose my bulldog—he knows you—and take your supper on the porch where you can watch. My wife says the fellow is disguised as a priest, and wears a mask."
Tregunc showed his white teeth in a smile. "He will not care to venture in here again, I think, Monsieur Darrel."
I went back and found Lys seated quietly at the table.
"The soup is ready, dear," she said. "Don't worry; it was only some foolish lout from Bannalec. No one in St. Gildas or St. Julien would do such a thing."
I was too much exasperated to reply at first, but Lys treated it as a stupid joke, and after a while I began to look at it in that light.
Lys told me about Yvonne, and reminded me of my promise to have Herbert Stuart down to meet her.
"You wicked diplomat!" I protested. "Herbert is in Paris, and hard at work for the Salon."
"Don't you think he might spare a week to flirt with the prettiest girl in Finistère?" inquired Lys innocently.
"Prettiest girl! Not much!" I said.
"Who is, then?" urged Lys.
I laughed a trifle sheepishly.
