"It's up the mountain in the chalet where I'm staying. Come with me and
I'll show it to you."
"No." Paul's voice was flat and colorless with shock and fear. "Bring
it to me."
"Very well," the man said. "I'll bring it to your house this evening."
"No." Paul said again. "No. You can't go there. I'll meet you
somewhere."
"Where?"
"Bring it to the chateau. Leave it there for me."
"I can't leave that picture lying around, Alain. It's all I've had of
my son for a long time. But I'll bring it to the chateau tonight after
dinner, at eight o'clock, and you can look at it and see if it helps
you to remember."
"Very well. I'll be there," Paul said.
The man moved towards him as though to kiss him, but as Paul drew
back in repulsion the man dropped his arms to his side and stood there
looking at him. "I suppose it is too much to ask that you should know
me all at once; but when we have lived together for a little while I am
sure things will be different."
"Bring me the picture," Paul cried in a choking voice.
"Very well, Alain," the man said. "I will leave you now but I will see
you at the chateau this evening." And he turned and started up the
mountain and in a moment disappeared in a clump of trees.
When he was out of sight Paul bent down and fastened on his skis. His
lips were pale and tightly closed and he did not say a word. Flip put
on her skis and silently followed him down the mountain.