The Good Comrade

by Una L. Silberrad

"The cousin tells me he is a great chemist," Julia said.

"He is," Rawson-Clew agreed, "and one much absorbed in his work; it is impossible to see him even on business except in the evening."

He paused by the gate as he spoke. "You have not much further to go, have you?" he said. "Will you excuse me carrying your basket further? I am afraid I am rather behind my time."

Julia took the basket, assuring him she had no distance to carry it, but her eyes as she said it twinkled with amusement; it was not really late, and she knew it.

"You are afraid of what will be said next," she thought as she looked back at the man, who was already vanishing among the mists by the lake. And the thought pleased her somewhat, for it suggested that Rawson-Clew had a respect for her acumen, and also that her private fancy—that the business which brought him here was not of a kind for public discussion—was correct.

The cousin was better that evening; she even expressed hopes of living through the summer, a thing she had not done for more than three days. Julia cheered and encouraged her in this belief (which, indeed, there was every reason to think well founded) and gave her the messages and dainties she had brought. After that they talked of the weather, which was bad; and the neighbours, who, on the whole, were good. Julia knew most of them by name by this time—the kind old Padre and his wife; the captain of the little cargo-boat, who drank a little, and his generous wife, who talked a great deal; the fat woman who kept fowls, and the thin one who sometimes stole the eggs. Julia had heard all about them before, but she heard over again, and a little about the great chemist, Herr Van de Greutz, too.

This great man was naturally only a name to the invalid and her friends, but they had always plenty to say about him. He was so distinguished that all the village felt proud to have him live on their borders, and so disagreeable that they were decidedly in awe of him. Of his domestic arrangements there was always talk; he lived in his great gloomy house with an old housekeeper, whom Julia knew by sight, and a young cook, whom she did not; the former was a permanency, the latter very much the reverse, it being difficult to find a cook equal to his demands who would for any length of time endure the shortness of the housekeeper's temper, and the worse one of her master. The domestic affairs of the chemist were a favourite subject of gossip, but sometimes his attainments came in for mention too; they did to-night, the cousin being in a garrulous mood. According to her, the great man had done everything in science worth mentioning, and was not only the first chemist in Holland, but in all the world; he looked down on all others, she said, regarding two Germans only as anything approaching his peers, all the English and French being nothing to him. He had discovered a great many things, dyes, poisons, and explosives; of the last he had recently perfected one which was twenty-two times stronger than anything before known. Its nature was, of course, a secret, but it would eventually raise the little army of Holland far above those of all other nations.

Julia listened, but especially to the last piece of information, which struck her as being the one most likely to prove interesting. Soon after hearing it, however, she was obliged to go. She made her farewells, and received messages of affection for Mevrouw, condolence for Mijnheer—who had a cold—and good wishes for Joost's journey. Then she started homewards, with a light basket and a busy mind.

It did not take her very long to decide that if there was any truth in this talk of Van de Greutz's achievements, it must be the last mentioned—the explosive—which brought Rawson-Clew here. Her judgment of men, for working purposes at least, was quick and fairly accurate, necessity and experience had helped Nature to make it so. There were one or two things in connection with Rawson-Clew which were very clear to her, he was not a scientist pure and simple; she had never met one, but she knew he was not one, and so was not likely to be interested in the great chemist for chemistry only. Nor was he a commercial man; neither his instincts nor his abilities lay in that direction; it was not a new process, not a trade secret which brought him here. Indeed, even though he might appreciate the value of such things, he would never dream of trying to possess himself of them.

Julia understood perfectly the scale in which such acts stood to men like Rawson-Clew. To attempt to master a man's discovery for one's own ends (as in a way she was doing) was impossible, rank dishonesty, never even contemplated; to do it for business purposes—well, he might admit it was sometimes necessary in business—commerce had its morality as law, and the army had theirs—but it was not a thing he would ever do himself, he would not feel it exactly honourable. But to attempt to gain a secret for national use was quite another thing, not only justifiable but right, more especially if, as was probably the case, the attempt was in fulfilment of a direct order. If after Herr Van de Greutz had a secret worth anything to England, it was that which had brought Rawson-Clew to the little town. She was as sure of it as she was that it was the blue daffodil which had brought her.