“It was Willi!” exclaimed the old woman at last. She now spoke in a whisper, and in German. “It was to Willi that I gave my promise to say nothing. You see, gracious lady, it was a friend of Willi’s who was making a chemical invention. It was he who left these goods with me. I will now confess”—she began to sob bitterly—“I will now confess that I did keep it a secret from the gracious lady that these parcels had been confided to me. But the bedroom was mine. You know, gracious lady, how often you said to me, ‘I should have liked you to have a nicer bedroom, Anna—but still, it is your room, so I hope you make it as comfortable as you can.’ As it was my room, gracious lady, it concerned no one what I kept there.”
“A friend of Willi’s?” repeated Mrs. Guthrie incredulously. “But I don’t understand—Willi is in Berlin. Surely you have not seen Willi since you went to Germany three years ago?”
“No, indeed not. But he told me about this matter when he took me to the station. He said that a friend would call on me some time after my return here, and that to keep these goods would be to my advantage——” she stopped awkwardly.
“You mean,” said Mrs. Guthrie slowly, “that you were paid for keeping these things, Anna?” Somehow she felt a strange sinking of the heart.
“Yes,” Anna spoke in a shamed, embarrassed tone. “Yes, that is quite true. I was given a little present each year. But it was no one’s business but mine.”
“And how long did you have them?” Mrs. Guthrie had remembered suddenly that that was an important point.
Anna waited a moment, but she was only counting. “Exactly three years,” she answered. “Three years this month.”
Mrs. Guthrie also made a rapid calculation. “You mean that they were brought to the Trellis House in the March of 1912?”
Anna nodded. “Yes, gracious lady. When you and Miss Rose were in London. Do you remember?”
The other shook her head.