Van Zwieten flicked a grain of dust from off his frock coat and raised his eyebrows. "My friends!" he repeated. "Oh, none of those who spoke are my friends, unless you refer to Mr. Scarse. But of course I don't agree with his views. I am an Imperialist," he said smoothly.
Remembering the disclosures he had made to her, Brenda was astounded at the effrontery of the man; but Wilfred understood.
"Of course you are an Imperialist," he said; "it pays better!"
"Quite so," assented Van Zwieten "it pays better--much better. But you talk in riddles."
"Do I? I think you can guess them then," retorted Wilfred, "and I don't think you will find Oom Paul will benefit by this meeting. It will show him how very much of one mind the English people are, and how they are determined to teach him a lesson."
"Oh, a lesson, eh?" Van Zwieten laughed. "It is to be hoped Oom Paul will prove an apt pupil; but I fear he is too old to learn."
"And Leyds--is he too old? He pulls the strings!"
"What strings?" asked the Dutchman, blankly.
"The strings to make you dance!"
In spite of Van Zwieten's command of his temper, Wilfred was making him angry. This of itself Brenda did not mind in the least; but she did mind a quarrel, and toward that she could see these two were fast drifting. Moreover, owing to the raised tones of Wilfred's voice, a crowd was collecting. Mr. van Zwieten did not look altogether comfortable. He despised Wilfred as a mere boy; but even so, boy or not, this young fellow, with his fearless nature and frantic patriotism, might put highly undesirable notions into the heads of those around. And most of them were more or less inflammable just then. The fountains, too, were close at hand.