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"Don't say. During the night? This ain't a place to be wandering around during the night."

"No one's wandering around," Jack retorted.

Bart grunted, gulped some coffee, and gobbled the rest of his cruller. "Billy says we're having a problem with the pump jack on thirty-three. Stop by and give it a look-see, hear?"

"Right. How about some coffee, Pearl?" Jack asked.

"Thank you," I said. The taller man stood up and pulled a chair away from the table for me. "Thank you."

"Your father here, too?" Bart asked.

"No, mo

nsieur."

Bart raised his eyebrows and then looked at the other man, who stood waiting for an introduction. "Oh, Lefty, this here is Mademoiselle Andreas. Pearl. Number twenty-two."

"Number twenty-two? Oh," Lefty said, impressed. I sat down.

"How about a cruller?" Bart offered. "Picked 'em up fresh on the way in today. We got a pretty good baker here. Bet he compares favorably with your Cafe du Monde."

"Thank you," I said and tried one. I smiled and nodded. "He does compare favorably," I said.

"Well, we better get shaking, Lefty. We got oil to pump," he said eyeing Jack, who pretended not to hear as he poured thick, black Cajun coffee. Bart and Lefty put on their helmets and left the trailer.

"You like a little cream with that?" Jack asked nodding at my cup.

"Please. I didn't mean to cause you any embarrassment with your fellow workers," I said.

"Don't think a second time about it," he said firmly. "Most of them are just jealous. I can make you eggs, if you like."

"This is fine for now," I said. "It really is a good cruller."

"How about some orange juice or cereal? I got some cornflakes, I think."

"I'm fine, Jack. Really. Just sit down and drink your own coffee. I don't want to keep you from going to work one more minute," I said.

He smiled and sat down. "Coffee's pretty strong, I know. The men like it that way. Bart says it keeps the hair off his tongue. He used to work with my father," he explained. "He might sound and look gruff, but he's a pussycat. Thinks he has to look .after me."

"It's nice having someone who cares about you," I said, which reminded me of what I had to do. "I have to call my father."

"Go on. Use the phone right there." Jack pointed.

Aubrey answered on the first ring, which immediately sent a chill up my spine. It was as if he'd been waiting right there for my call.

"Monsieur Andreas is asleep, mademoiselle," he said a low voice, obviously not wanting the other servants to overhear his conversation. "He had a slight accident late last night."

"What sort of accident, Aubrey? What happened?" Had Daddy come after me and cracked up his car in that torrential downpour?

"I don't know what time he started up the stairs last night, but he got dizzy and fell, and I'm afraid he broke his right leg just under the knee. It's a small fracture, but the doctor had to set it and apply a cast and give him a painkiller. That's why he's asleep, mademoiselle."

I knew Aubrey was being kind to say Daddy had gotten dizzy. Surely he had risen from the sofa in his office and, still quite drunk, started up the stairs. "Does he know where I am?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. He found the note you pinned to him. It was still on him when he fell down the stairs. I heard the commotion and found him there. We got the doctor immediately, and he decided it would be all right for monsieur to remain at home. I took the liberty of calling Mrs. Hockingheimer and she will attend to his needs. I expect her arrival at any moment."

"That's good, Aubrey. When my father wakes up, please tell him I called and I will call again later today. Tell him . . tell him my mother is still here and I hope to find her soon. Then we'll both come home."

"Very good, mademoiselle."