Laurel watched Percy ride off as though the devil were at his heels, and murmured, "Poor boy." She then when into the shop of M. Planchette, she greeted the young man behind the desk and when up stairs to where M. Plancette worked.
Jean-Paul Planchette was making some cursory alterations to a nobleman's new coat, when he saw Laurel appear coming up the stairs. He was surprised to see her here so early and gave her a signal to stay out of sight until he was finished with the customer. He continued talking merrily with the customer and after a few moment finished and sent the man downstairs to pay the clerk for his new coat. "Well now, dearest, I didn't expect you for another hour," he said as she reappeared.
"I was rescued by a knight on a white horse who brought me to your door step before dashing off like Cinderella," Laurel replied as she came in and deposited her load. "And don't give me that disapproving look, he was a perfectly sweet young milor by the name of Percy Blakeney and if he had gotten at all fresh, I could have easily boxed his ears."
"I am only appropriately concerned for you dear," Planchette remarked. "Percy Blakeney, you say? Why I've heard some interesting stories about that family. So what is he like?"
Laurel thought for a moment, "He was especially tall, rather akward and a bit nervous, but he seems very sweet," Laurel paused. "Actually, he seemed down right terrified the longer we spent together." She thought it over more and more, trying to piece together the conversation and pin-point what precisely might be terrifying him.
"He probably took one look at you and fell madly in love, my dearest beauty, who could blame the boy for being nervous," as he said this he pinched her cheek affectionately. "If I'd been any other man I'd feel the same way myself."
"I doubt that is the reason," Laurel said. "No, he seemed most upset when he spoke of his parent. I've never seen such a look on anyone."
M. Planchette was silent. He was not one to spread idle gossip, but he felt that it might help Laurel to know what little information he did. "I've heard that the Blakeney came into these parts, because Lady Blakeney is quite ill," he said solemnly. "They say it's a sickness of the soul, the poor woman. The family must be broken up about it." The next part he said with some reluctance. "There are also rumours that the boy has have to see a doctor far more frequently than most boys his age." Planchette stopped there, he didn't want to be the one to suggest that perhaps the mother's ailment had passed onto the son.
"He said his mother was ill," Laurel reflected and mentally barated herself for not being more considerate. "I'm afraid that I upset him. I shall have to find a way to make it up to him." Then trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. "So what work is there today, my darling M. Planchette?"
"Well, my girl, you are in luck! Lord Blakeney's coat is finished and he has asked that it be delivered to his estate. Perhaps my ever faithful Andre can shed some light on this mystery when he is there deliverying," Planchette said with a wink. "But since I have two more deliveries besides, his observations will have to be quick." The clerk from downstairs appeared and told them that a M. Arturo Mazarini was down stairs and eager to be fitted. "Thank you, Henri. Send M. Mazarini up," Planchette said, then turned to Laurel. "Now to work with you, my lovely, go bring me my Andre."
