"Was the name Vandervelt, madam?"
"How do you know that?" she rapped quickly.
"It is enough that I do know it and that you were known to him as the sister of a man who called himself Hans Bulich."
Her eyes widened in astonishment. "Who are you?" she asked; and I made sure she had begun to suspect, so intent was her stare. If the room had not been so gloomy she would certainly have seen through the disguise.
"I am satisfied," I replied, holding my head down while I fumbled in one of my gloves and took out the note I had scribbled. "This is from Hans Bulich."
Dear heart, how excited she was! She sprang up eagerly and rushed across as I held it up, her hands trembling and the tears of joy in her eyes. "Give it me, please, give it me," she cried shakily. "Is he safe? Is all well? Oh, Mr. Heerenveen, do—do tell me everything."
"Quite safe, madam," I managed to reply, for I was fast getting as excited as Nessa herself.
"Oh, thank God for that! Then you have seen him since I left? Where is he? Still in Lingen? Please don't keep me in suspense."
"He is in Holland, madam. I crossed the frontier with him."
"And you've come to take me to him, of course? Oh, you are indeed what he says, a friend. Can't we go now, this instant? I am ready. You're sure he's not in any trouble? Do tell me, please, at once."