20 
LAND & WATER 
January ii, 1917 
{Continued from page i8) 
tinisliiag his work ; he died miiniered, whereas SiincDii is 
-thve. Besides," continued Patrice, " this man had a different 
\oice from Simeon, a voice which I had never heard before and 
wliicli I shall never hear again." 
CorAlic was convinced and did not insist. 
They were seated on one of the benches in the garden, en- 
joying the bright April sunshine. The buds of the chestnut- 
trees shone at the tips of the branches. The heavy scent of 
the wall-flowers rose from the borders ; and their brown and 
yellow blossoms, like a cluster of bees and wasps, pressed 
dose together, swayed to the light breeze. 
Suddenly Patrice felt a thrill. Coralie had placed her hand 
on his, witli engaging friendliness ; and, when he turned to 
look at her, he saw that she was in tears. 
" What's the matter, Little Mother Coralie ? " 
Coralie's head bent down and her cheek touched the 
officer's shoulder. He dared not move. She was treating 
him as a protecting elder brother ; and he shrank from 
showing any warmth of affection that might annoy her. 
" What is it, dear ? " he repeated. " What's the matter ? " 
" Oh, it is so strange ! " she murmured. " Look, Patrice, 
look at those flowers." 
They were on the third terrace, commanding a view of the 
fourth ; and this, the lowest of the terraces, was adorned not 
with borders of wall-flowers but with beds in which were 
mingled all manner of spring flowers ; tulips, silvery alyssums, 
hyacinths, with a great round plot of pansies in the middle. 
'" Look over there," she said, pointing to this plot with her 
outstretched arm. " Do you see ? . . . Letters. . 
Patrice looked and gradually perceived that the clumps of 
pansies were so arranged as to form on the ground some letters 
that stood out among the other flowers. It did not appear at 
the first glance, it took a certain time to see ; but, once seen, 
the letters grouped themselves of their own accord, lorming 
three words set down in a straight line. 
Patrice and Coralie. 
' Ah," he said, in a low voice, " I understand what you 
mean ! " 
It gave them a thrill of inexpressible excitement to read 
their two names, which a friendly hand had, so to speak, 
sown ; their two names united in pansy-flowers. It was 
inexpressibly exciting too that he and she should always find 
ti.emselves thus Unke 1 together, hnked together by events, 
linked together by their portraits, hnked together by an un- 
seen force of will, linked together now by the struggling effort 
of little flowers that spring up, waken into life and blossom 
in predetermined order. 
Coralie, sitting up, said : 
" It's Simeon who attends to the garden." 
" Yes," he said, wavering slightly. " But surely that does 
not affect my opinion. Our unknown friend is dead, 
but Simeon may have known him. Simeon perhaps was acting 
with him in certain matters and must know a good deal 
Oh, if he could only put us on the riglit road ' " 
An hour later, as the sun was sinking on the horizon, they 
climbed the terraces. On reaching the top they saw M. 
Masseron beckoning to them. 
I have something very curious to show you," he said, 
■ something I have found which will interest you both, 
madam, and you, captain, particularly." 
He led them to the end of the terrace, outside the occupied 
part of the house next to the library. Two detectives were 
standing mattock in hand. In the course of their searching, 
M. Masseron explained, they had begun by removing the ivy 
from the low wall adorned with terra-cotta vases. There- 
upon M. Masseron 's attention was attracted by the fact that 
this wall was covered, for a length of some yards, hy a layer 
of plaster which appeared to be more recent in date than the 
stone. 
■' What did it mean ? " said M. Masseron. " I had to 
presuppose some motive. I therefore had this layer of plaster 
demolished ; and underneath it I found a second layer, not 
so thick as the first and mingled with the rough stone. Come 
closer ... or, rather, no, stand back a httle way ; you 
can see better like that." 
The second layer really served only to keep in place some 
small white pebbles, which constituted a sort of mosaic set 
in black pebliles and formed a series of large, written letters, 
sf>elling three words, .^nd these three words once apain were : 
Patrice and Corame. 
'_' What do yon say to that ? " asked M. Masseron. " Ob- 
serve that the inscription goes several years back, at least ten 
years, when we consider the condition of the ivy clinging to 
this part of tlie wall." 
" At least ten years," Patrice -repeated, when he was once 
more alone with Coralie. " Ten years ago was when you were 
not married, when you were still at Saloni a and when no 
body used to come to this garden . . . nobody except 
Sim<'on and such people as he chose to admit. And amonp, 
these," he concluded, " was our unknown friend who is now 
dead. And Simf on knows the truth. Coralie." 
They saw old Simt'on, late that afternoon, as they had seea 
him constantly since the tragedy, wandering in tia- i^ini.en ^r 
along the passages of the house, restless and distiaught, 
with his comforter always wound around his head and his 
spectacles on his nose, stammering words which no one could 
understand. At night his neig1il)our, one of the maimed 
soldiers, would often hear him humming to himself. 
Patrice twice tried to make him speak. He shook his head 
and did not answer, or else laughed like an idiot. 
The problem was ' becoming complicated ; and nothing 
pointed to a possible solution. Who was it that, since their 
childhood, had promised them to each other as a pair betrothed 
long beforehand by an inflexible ordinance ? Who was it 
that arranged the pansy-bed last autumn, when they did not 
know each other ? And who was it that had written their 
two names, ten years ago, in white pebbles, within the thick 
ness of a wall .' 
These were haunting cjuestions for two young people in 
whom love had awakened quite spontaneously and who 
suddenly saw stretching behind them a long past common to 
them both. Each step that they took in the garden seemed 
to them a pilgrimage amid forgotten memories ; and, at every 
turn in the path, they were preixired to discover some new 
proof of the bond that linked them together unknown to 
themselves. 
As a matter of fact, during those few days ; they saw their 
initials interlaced twice on the trunk of a tree, once on the 
back of a bench. And twice again their names appeared 
inscribed on old walls and concealed behind a layer of plaster 
overhung with ivy. On these two occasions, their names were 
accompanied by two separate dates : 
Patrice and Coralie, 190.1 
P.ATRiCE and Coralie, 1907. 
" Eleven years ago and eight jears ago," said the officer. 
" And always our two names : Patrice and Coralie." 
Their hands met and clasped each other. The great mvsterv 
of their past brought them as closely together as did the 
great love which filled them and of which they refrained from 
speaking. 
In spite of themselves, howe . er. they sought out solitude , 
and it was in this way that, a fortnight after the murder of 
Essares liey, as they passed the little door opening on the 
lane, they decided to go out by it and to stroll down to the 
river bank. No one saw them, for both the approach to the 
door, and the path leading to it were hidden by a screen of 
tall bushes and M. Masseron and his men were exploring the 
old gicenhouses, which stood at the other side of the garden, 
and the old furnace and chimney which had been used for 
signalling. 
But, when he was outside, Patrice stopped. Almost in 
front of him, in the opposite wall, was an exactly similar 
door. He called Coralie's attention to it, but she said : 
" There is nothing astonishing a"" out that. This wall is the 
boundary of another garden which at one time belonged to 
the one we have just left." 
" But who lives there ? " 
" Nobody. The little house which overlooks it and which 
comes before mine, in the Rue Kaynouard, is always shut 
up." 
" Same door, same key, perhaps, " Patrice murmured, half 
to him'^elf. 
He inserted in the lock the rusly key, which liad reachc ' 
him by messenger. The lock responded. 
" Well," he said, " the series ot miracles is continaii.;^'. 
Will this one be in our favour ? 
The vegetation had been allowed to run riot in the narrow 
strip of ground that faced them. However, in the middle 
of the exuberant grass, a well-trodden path, which looked as 
if it were often used, started from the door in the wall and rose 
obliquely to the single terrace, on which stood a dilapidated 
lodge with closed shutters. It was built cjn one floor, but 
was surmounted by a small lantern-shaped belvedere. It 
had its own entrance in the Rue Raynouard, from which it 
was separated by a yard and a very high wall. This entrance 
seemed to be barricaded with boards and posts nailed to- 
gether. 
They walked rotmd the house and were surprised by the 
sight that awaited them on the right-hand side. The foliage 
had 1 een trained into rectangular cloisters, carefully kept, 
with regular arcades cut in yew and box-hedges. A miniature 
garden was laid out in this space, the very home of silence and 
trancjuilitv. Here al'=o were wallflowers and pansies and 
hyacinths. .And four paths, coming from four corners of the 
.cloisters, met round a central space where stood the live 
[Continued on paqe afe) 
