“No, no. He has nothing to do with the garrison!” exclaimed Anna. “But you must have very often seen him, for he is constantly in the town. And he speaks German, Mr. Hegner. I should have thought he would have been in to see you.”
“You mean the son of the old lady who lives at Dorycote? They have never dealt at my Stores”—there was a tone of disappointment, of contempt, in Mr. Hegner’s voice. “But that gentleman has retired from the Army, Frau Bauer; it is not he, surely, whom they would call out to fight?”
“Still, all the same, he is going to Belgium. To France first, and then to Belgium.” She spoke very positively, annoyed at being doubted.
Mr. Hegner hesitated for a moment. He stroked his moustache. “I daresay this Major has gone back to his old regiment, for the English have mobilised their army—such as it is. But that does not mean that they are sending troops to the Continent.”
“But I even know where the Major is going to land in France.”
Mr. Hegner drew in his breath. “Ach!” he said. “That is really interesting! Do you indeed? And what is the name of the place?”
“Boulogne,” she said readily.
“But how do you know all this?” he asked slowly.
“Mrs. Otway told me. This Major is a great friend of my ladies. But though it was she who told me about Boulogne, I heard the good-byes said in the hall. Everything can be heard from my kitchen, you see.”
“Try and remember exactly what it was that this Major said. It may be of special interest to me.”