nugget was on a journey.

'Hullo!' said Villiers to himself, 'it's not at her own house, and
she's driving somewhere with it, I wonder where to?'

Pierre--who not being able to write, was in the habit of drawing
pictures to express his thoughts--nudged his elbow and showed him a
sketch of a man in a box waving his arms.

'Auctioneer?' hazarded Mr Villiers, looking at this keenly. Pierre
stared at him blankly; his comprehension of English was none of the
best, so he did not know what auctioneer meant. However, he saw that
Villiers did not understand, so he rapidly sketched an altar with a
priest standing before it blessing the people.

'Oh, a priest, eh?--a minister?' said Villiers, nodding his head to
show he understood. 'She's taken the nugget to show it to a
minister! Wonder who it is?'

This was speedily answered by Pierre, who, throwing down the pencil
and paper, dragged him outside on to the road, and pointed to the
white top of the Black Hill. Mr Villiers instantly comprehended.

'Marchurst, by God!' he said in English, smiting his leg with his
open hand. 'Is Madame there now?' he added in French, turning to
Pierre.

The dumb man nodded and slouched slowly back into the hotel.
Villiers stood out in the blazing sunshine, thinking.