The time that had elapsed since he had parted from his sister-in-law had
seemed like years instead of hours, and yet every moment of those hours
had been filled with action. From the Châlet des Dunes Jacques had made his way straight to the
Pavillon de Wissant, and there his had been the bitter task of lying to
his household. They had accepted unquestioningly his statement that their mistress,
without waiting even to go home, had left the Châlet des Dunes with her
sister for Italy owing to the arrival of sudden worse news from Mantua. While Claire's luggage was being by his orders hurriedly prepared, he
had changed his clothes; and then, overcome with mortal weariness, with
sick, sombre suspense, he had returned to Falaise, taking the railway
station on his way to the town hall, and from there going through the
grim comedy of despatching his wife's trunks to Paris. Since the day war was declared by France on Germany, there had never
been at the town hall of Falaise so busy an afternoon. Urgent messages
of inquiry and condolence came pouring in from all over the civilized
world, and the mayor had to compose suitable answers to them all. To him there also fell the painful duty of officially announcing to the
crowd surging impatiently in the market place--though room in front was
always made and kept for those of the fisher folk who had relatives in
the submarine service--that it was the _Neptune_ which had gone down. He had seen the effect of that announcement painted on rough, worn,
upturned faces; he had heard the cries of anger, the groans of despair
of the few, and had witnessed the relief, the tears of joy of the many. But his heart felt numb, and his cold, stern manner kept the emotions
and excitement of those about him in check. At last there had come a short respite. It was publicly announced that
owing to the currents the divers had had to suspend their work awhile,
but that salvage appliances from England and from Cherbourg were on
their way to Falaise, and that it was hoped by seven that evening active
operations would begin. With luck the _Neptune_ might be raised before
midnight. Fortunate people blessed with optimistic natures were already planning a
banquet at which the crew of the _Neptune_ were to be entertained within
an hour of the rescue. *       *       *       *       *

Jacques de Wissant rose from the massive First Empire table which formed
part of the fine suite of furniture presented by the great Napoleon
just a hundred years ago to the municipality of Falaise. With bent head, his hands clasped behind him, the mayor began walking up
and down the long room. Admiral de Saint Vilquier might now come at any moment, but the man
awaiting him had not yet made up his mind how to word what he had to
say--how much to tell, how much to conceal from, his wife's old friend. He was only too well aware that if the desperate attempts which would
soon be made to raise the _Neptune_ were successful, and if its human
freight were rescued alive, the fact that there had been a woman on
board could not be concealed. Thousands would know to-night, and
millions to-morrow morning. Not only would the amazing story provide newspaper readers all over the
world with a thrilling, unexpected piece of news, but the fact that
there had been a woman involved in the disaster would be perpetuated, as
long as our civilization endures, in every account of subsequent
accidents to submarine craft. More intimately, vividly agonizing was the knowledge that the story, the
scandal, would be revived when there arose the all-important question of
a suitable marriage for Clairette or Jacqueline. As he paced up and down the room, longing for and yet dreading the
coming of the Admiral, he visualized what would happen. He could almost
hear the whispered words: "Yes, dear friend, the girl is admirably
brought up, and has a large fortune, also she and your son have taken
quite a fancy for one another, but there is that very ugly story of the
mother! Don't you remember that she was with her lover in the submarine
_Neptune_? The citizens of Falaise still laugh at the story and point
her out in the street. Like mother like daughter, you know!" Thus the
miserable man tortured himself, turning the knife in his wound. But stay---- Supposing the salvage appliances failed, as they had failed
at Bizerta, to raise the _Neptune_? Then with the help of Admiral de
Saint Vilquier the awful truth might be kept secret. *       *       *       *       *

At last the door opened. Jacques de Wissant took a step forward, and as his hand rested loosely
for a moment in the old seaman's firmer grasp, he would have given many
years of his life to postpone the coming interview. "As you asked me so urgently to do so, I have come, M. de Wissant, to
learn what you have to tell me. But I'm afraid the time I can spare you
must be short. As you know, I am to be at the station in half an hour to
meet the Minister of Marine. He will probably wish to go out at once to
the scene of the calamity, and I shall have to accompany him." The Admiral was annoyed at having been thus sent for to the town hall. It was surely Jacques de Wissant's place to have come to him. And then, while listening to the other's murmured excuses, the old naval
officer happened to look straight into the face of the Mayor of Falaise,
and at once a change came over his manner, even his voice softened and
altered. "Pardon my saying so, M. de Wissant," he exclaimed abruptly, "but you
look extremely ill! You mustn't allow this sad business to take such a
hold on you. It is tragic no doubt that such things must be, but
remember"--he uttered the words solemnly--"they are the Price of
Admiralty." "I know, I know," muttered Jacques de Wissant. "Shall we sit down?" The deadly pallor, the look of strain on the face of the man before him
was making the Admiral feel more and more uneasy. "It would be very
awkward," he thought to himself, "were Jacques de Wissant to be taken
ill, here, now, with me---- Ah, I have it!" Then he said aloud, "You have doubtless had nothing to eat since the
morning?" And as de Wissant nodded--"But that's absurd! It's always
madness to go without food. Believe me, you will want all your strength
during the next few days. As for me, I had fortunately lunched before I
received the sad news. I keep to the old hours; I do not care for your
English _déjeuners_ at one o'clock. Midday is late enough for me!" "Admiral?" said the wretched man, "Admiral----?" "Yes, take your time; I am not really in such a hurry. I am quite at
your disposal." "It is a question of honour," muttered Jacques de Wissant, "a question
of honour, Admiral, or I should not trouble you with the matter." Admiral de Saint Vilquier leant forward, but Jacques de Wissant avoided
meeting the shrewd, searching eyes. "The honour of a naval family is involved." The Mayor of Falaise was now
speaking in a low, pleading voice. The Admiral stiffened. "Ah!" he exclaimed.