Pierre found it was useless to make any further objections, so,
reluctantly handing the baby over to the carpenter, he prepared to make
himself as comfortable as circumstances permitted during Smith's
absence. It was a beautiful warm midsummer evening, but Pierre began to
feel chilly and tired of waiting long before Smith came back, though he
managed to get several naps, curled up in the bottom of the boat. At
last, about eleven o'clock, just as Pierre was getting very nervous, and
dreading every minute that one of the white ladies of Normandy (those
_dames blanches_ who are so cruel to the discourteous) should appear to
him, or a hobgoblin or a ghost, in all of which he was, like most Norman
peasants, a firm believer, to his intense relief he heard the carpenter
whistling in the distance, and a minute or two later Smith arrived, hot
and tired, and by no means in a communicative frame of mind, only
vouchsafing to tell the anxious Pierre that the baby was safe.

To Léon he was bound to be less reserved, and, according to his own
account, he had had no difficulty in persuading his friend the shepherd
to take charge of the child. He had asked no awkward questions, and was
quite satisfied with the sum of money Smith had left with him. Léon
carefully entered the name and address of the shepherd in his
pocket-book, and then dismissed the matter from his mind, and gave
himself up to enjoying his cruise.

A day or two later they put into Yarmouth, and the arrival of the French
yacht, L'Hirondelle, owner M. Léon de Thorens, was duly mentioned in the
shipping news of the daily papers. Yarmouth was not a place after Léon's
heart, and he would have left the next day, but John Smith had gone
ashore and had not returned, so their departure was delayed at first for
a few hours; but as Smith still did not appear, Léon began to get
anxious, and made inquiries in the town for him, but in vain. At last,