“Here!” he exclaimed, coming towards her. “Here is the letter, Frau Bauer! And though it is true that there is nothing in it of any value to me, yet I recognise your good intention. The next time there may be something excellent. I therefore give you a florin, with best thanks for having brought it. Instead of all that gossip concerning our poor prisoners, it would have been better if he had said what it was that he liked to eat as a relish to the bully beef on which, it seems, the British are universally fed.”
Anna’s point of view changed with lightning quickness. What a good thing she had brought the letter! Two shillings was two shillings, after all.
“Thanks many,” she said gratefully, as he hurried her along the passage and unlocked the back door. But, as so often happens, it was a case of more haste less speed—the door slammed-to before the visitor could slip out, and at the same moment that of the parlour opened, and Anna, to her great surprise, heard the words, uttered in German, “Look here, Hegner! I really can’t stay any longer. You forget that I’ve a long way to go.” She could not see the speaker, though she did her best to do so, as her host thrust her, with small ceremony, out of the now reopened door.
Anna felt consumed with curiosity. She crossed over the little street, and hid herself in the shadow of a passage leading to a mews. There she waited, determined to see Alfred Head’s mysterious visitor.
She had not time to feel cold before the door through which she had lately been pushed so quickly opened again, letting out a short, thin man, dressed in a comfortable motoring coat. She heard very plainly the good-nights exchanged in a low voice.
As soon as the door shut behind him, the prosperous-looking stranger began walking quickly along. Anna, at a safe distance, followed him. He turned down a side street, where, drawn up before a house inscribed “to let,” stood a small, low motor-car. In it sat a Boy Scout. She knew he was a Boy Scout by his hat, for the lad’s uniform was covered by a big cape.
She walked quietly on, and so passed the car. As she went by, she heard Hegner’s friend say in a kindly voice, and in excellent English, albeit there was a twang in it, “I hope you’ve not been cold, my boy. My business took a little longer than I thought it would.” And the shrill, piping answer, “Oh no, sir! I have been quite all right, sir!” And then the motor gave a kind of snort, and off they went, at a sharp pace, towards the Southampton road.
Anna smiled to herself. Manfred Hegner was a very secretive person—she had always known that. But why tell her such a silly lie? Hegner was getting quite a big business man; he had many irons in the fire—some one had once observed to Anna that he would probably end by becoming a millionaire. It is always well to be in with such lucky folk.
As she opened the gate of the Trellis House, she saw that her mistress’s sitting-room was lit up, and before she could put the key in the lock of the front door, it opened, and Rose exclaimed in an anxious tone, “Oh, Anna! Where have you been? Where is my letter? I looked all over the kitchen, but I couldn’t find it.”
Old Anna smilingly drew it out from the inside pocket of her jacket. “There, there!” she said soothingly. “Here it is, dearest child. I thought it safer to take it along with me than to leave it in the house.”