The mayor himself drew up an official proclamation, in which it was
pointed out that it was almost certain that all on board had perished at
the time of the collision, and that, even if any of them had survived
for a few hours, not one could be alive now. And then, as one by one the days of waiting began to wear themselves
away, the world, apart from the town which numbered ten of her sons
among the doomed men, relaxed its painful interest in the fate of the
French submarine. Indeed, Falaise took on an almost winter stillness of
aspect, for the summer visitors naturally drifted away from a spot which
was still the heart of an awful tragedy. But Jacques de Wissant did not relax in his duties or in his efforts on
behalf of the families of the men who still lay, eighteen fathoms deep,
encased in their steel tomb; and the townspeople were deeply moved by
their mayor's continued, if restrained, distress. He even put his
children, his pretty twin daughters, Jacqueline and Clairette, into deep
mourning; this touched the seafaring portion of the population very
much. It also became known that M. de Wissant was suffering from domestic
distress of a very sad and intimate kind; his sister-in-law was
seriously ill in Italy from an infectious disease, and his wife, who
had gone away at a moment's notice to help to nurse her, had caught the
infection. The Mayor of Falaise and Admiral de Saint Vilquier did not often have
occasion to meet during those days spent by each of them in entertaining
official personages and in composing answers to the messages and
inquiries which went on dropping in, both by day and by night, at the
town hall and at the Admiral's quarters. But there came an hour when
Admiral de Saint Vilquier at last sought to have a private word with the
Mayor of Falaise. "I think I have arranged everything satisfactorily," he said briefly,
"and you can convey the fact to your friends. I do not suppose, as
matters are now, that there is much fear that the truth will ever come
out." The old man did not look into Jacques de Wissant's face while he uttered
the comforting words. He had become aware of many things--including
Madeleine Baudoin's cruise in the _Neptune_ the day before the accident,
and of her own and Claire de Wissant's reported departure for Italy. Alone, among the people who sometimes had friendly speech of the mayor
during those sombre days of waiting, Admiral de Saint Vilquier did not
condole with the anxious husband on the fact that he could not yet leave
Falaise for Mantua. V

Jacques de Wissant woke with a start and sat up in bed. He had heard a
knock--but, awake or sleeping, his ears were never free of the sound of
knocking,--of muffled, regular knocking.... It was the darkest hour of the summer night, but with a sharp sense of
relief he became aware that what had wakened him this time was a real
sound, not the slow, patient, rhythmical, tapping which haunted him
incessantly. But now the knocking had been followed by the opening of
his bedroom door, and vaguely outlined before him was the short, squat
form of an old woman who had entered his mother's service when he was a
little boy, and who always stayed in his town house. "M'sieur l'Amiral de Saint Vilquier desires to see M'sieur Jacques on
urgent business," she whispered. "I have put him to wait in the great
drawing-room. It is fortunate that I took all the covers off the
furniture yesterday." Then the moment of ordeal, the moment he had begun to think would never
come--was upon him? He knew this summons to mean that the _Neptune_ had
been finally towed into the harbour, and that now, in this still, dark
hour before dawn, was about to begin the work of taking out the bodies. Every day for a week past it had been publicly announced that the
following night would see the final scene of the dread drama, and each
evening--even last evening--it had been as publicly announced that
nothing could be done for the present. Jacques de Wissant had put all his trust in the Admiral and in the
arrangements the Admiral was making to avoid discovery. But now, as he
got up and dressed himself--strange to say that phantom sound of
knocking had ceased--there came over him a frightful sensation of doubt
and fear. Had he been right to trust wholly to the old naval officer? Would it not have been better to have taken the Minister of Marine into
his confidence? How would it be possible for Admiral de Saint Vilquier, unless backed by
Governmental authority, to elude the vigilance, not only of the
Admiralty officials and of all those that were directly interested, but
also of the journalists who, however much the public interest had
slackened in the disaster, still stayed on at Falaise in order to be
present at the last act of the tragedy? These thoughts jostled each other in Jacques de Wissant's brain. But
whether he had been right or wrong it was too late to alter now. He went into the room where the Admiral stood waiting for him. The two men shook hands, but neither spoke till they had left the house. Then, as they walked with firm, quick steps across the deserted
market-place, the Admiral said suddenly, "This is the quietest hour in
the twenty-four, and though I anticipate a little trouble with the
journalists, I think everything will go off quite well." His companion muttered a word of assent, and the other went on, this
time in a gruff whisper: "By the way, I have had to tell Dr. Tarnier--"
and as Jacques de Wissant gave vent to a stifled exclamation of
dismay--"of course I had to tell Dr. Tarnier! He has most nobly offered
to go down into the _Neptune_ alone--though in doing so he will run
considerable personal risk." Admiral de Saint Vilquier paused a moment, for the quick pace at which
his companion was walking made him rather breathless. "I have simply
told him that there was a young woman on board. He imagines her to have
been a Parisienne,--a person of no importance, you understand,--who had
come to spend the holiday with poor Dupré. But he quite realizes that
the fact must never be revealed." He spoke in a dry, matter-of-fact
tone. "There will not be room on the pontoon for more than five or six,
including ourselves and Dr. Tarnier. Doubtless some of our newspaper
friends will be disappointed--if one can speak of disappointment in such
a connection--but they will have plenty of opportunities of being
present to-morrow and the following nights. I have arranged with the
Minister of Marine for the work to be done only at night." As the two men emerged on the quays, they saw that the news had leaked
out, for knots of people stood about, talking in low hushed tones, and
staring at the middle of the harbour. Apart from the others, and almost dangerously close to the unguarded
edge below which was the dark lapping water, stood a line of women
shrouded in black, and from them came no sound.