“And,” said Barnabas, speaking in a low voice, “you brought us in here because of Pippa?”
Pippa had wandered to the far side of the room.
“How did you know?” asked the old man.
“Because Philippe Kostolitz was also my friend.”
“Ah!” said the old man softly. “And where,” he asked, “did you find the child?”
“She came to us,” said Barnabas, “out of the Nowhere.”
The old man smiled. “Planted there I fancy by Philippe.” Then their eyes met. “So you saw the likeness too?”
“I did,” said Barnabas.
“That was the reason,” said the old man, “that I liked to talk to her. She reminded me of him. He came and went from here as he chose. It was on one of his tramps that he wandered in. The door in the wall is never locked. I found him looking at the butterflies among my hollyhocks. He was a lad of twenty at that time. It is twenty-five years ago.”
“Yes?” said Barnabas.