He held out his hand, and the other man grasped it warmly. Then Mr. Reynolds shook hands with Mrs. Guthrie. She looked happy now—happy if a little tearful. “I hope,” he said eagerly, “that you will make use of my car to take you home.”
Somehow he felt interested in, and drawn to, this middle-aged couple. He was quite sorry to know that, after to-day, he would probably never see them again. The type of man who is engaged in the sort of work which Mr. Reynolds was now doing for his country has to be very human underneath his cloak of official reserve, or he would not be able to carry out his often delicate, as well as difficult, duties.
He followed them outside the Council House. Clouds had gathered, and it was beginning to rain, so he ordered his car to be closed.
“Mr. Reynolds,” cried Mrs. Guthrie suddenly, “you won’t let them be too unkind to my poor old Anna, will you?”
“Indeed, no one will be unkind to her,” he said. “She’s only been a tool after all—poor old woman. No doubt there will be a deportation order, and she will be sent back to Germany.”
“Remember that you are to draw on me if any money is required on her behalf,” cried out Major Guthrie, fixing his sightless eyes on the place where he supposed the other man to be.
“Yes, yes—I quite understand that! But we’ve found out that the old woman has plenty of money. It is one of the things that make us believe that she knows more than she pretends to do.”
He waved his hand as they drove off. Somehow he felt a better man, a better Englishman, for having met these two people.
There was very little light in the closed motor, but if it had been open for all the world to see, Mary Guthrie would not have minded, so happy, so secure did she feel now that her husband’s arm was round her.
She put up her face close to his ear: “Oh, Alick,” she whispered, “I am afraid that you’ve married a very foolish woman——”