"There is good news!" exclaimed Anna's host, as soon as the door was
shut behind his wife. "The British have sunk one of our little steamers,
but we have blown up one of theirs--a very big, important war-vessel,
Frau Bauer!"
Good old Anna's face beamed. It was not that she disliked
England--indeed, she was very fond of England. But she naturally felt
that in this great game of war it was only right and fair that the
Fatherland should win. It did not occur to her, and well he knew it
would not occur to her, that the man who had just spoken was at any rate
nominally an Englishman. She, quite as much as he did himself, regarded
the naturalisation certificate as a mere matter of business. It had
never made any difference to any of the Germans Anna had known in
England--in fact the only German-Englishman she knew was old Fröhling,
who had never taken out his certificate at all. Fröhling really did
adore England, and this had sometimes made old Anna feel very impatient.
To Fröhling everything English was perfect, and he had been quite
pleased, instead of sorry, when his son had joined the British Army.
"So? That is good!" she exclaimed. "Very good! But we must not seem too
pleased, must we, Herr Hegner?"
And he shook his head. "No, to be _too_ pleased would not be grateful,"
he said, "to good old England!" And he spoke with no sarcasm, he really
meant what he said.
"It makes me sad to think of all the deaths, whether they are German or
English," went on Anna sadly. "I do not feel the same about the Russians
or the French naturally."
"Ach! How much I agree with you," he said feelingly. "The poor English!
Truly do I pity them. I am quite of your mind, Frau Bauer; though every
Russian and most Frenchmen are a good riddance, I do not rejoice to
think of any Englishman, however lazy, tiresome, and pigheaded, being
killed."
They both ate steadily for a few minutes, then Manfred Hegner began
again. "But very few Englishmen will be killed by our brave fellows. You
will have to shed no tears for any one you know in Witanbury, Frau
Bauer. The English are not a fighting people. Most of their sailors will
be drowned, no doubt, but at that one must not after all repine."
"Yet the English are sending an army to Belgium," observed Anna,
thoughtfully.
"What makes you think that?" He stopped in the work on which he was
engaged, that of cutting a large sausage into slices. "Have you learnt
it on good authority, Frau Bauer? Has this news been told you by the
young gentleman official from London who is connected with the
Government--I mean he who is courting your young lady?"
Anna drew back stiffly. "How they do gossip in this town!" she
exclaimed, frowning. "Courting my young lady, indeed! No, Mr. Hegner, it
was not Mr. Hayley who told this. Mr. Hayley is one of those who talk a
great deal without saying anything."
"Then on whose authority do you speak?" He spoke with a certain rough
directness.
"I know because Major Guthrie started for Belgium on Friday last, at two
o'clock. By now he must be there, fighting our folk."
"Major Guthrie?" He looked puzzled. "Is he a gentleman of the
garrison?--surely not?"
"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."
"He said"--she hesitated a moment, and then, in English, quoted the
words: "He said, 'I shall be very busy seeing about my kit before I
leave England.'"
_"Before I leave England?"_ he repeated meditatively. "Yes, if you did
indeed hear him say those words they are proof positive, Frau Bauer."
"Of course they are!" she said triumphantly.
They had a long and pleasant meal, and old Anna enjoyed every moment of
it. Not since she had spent that delightful holiday in Berlin had she
drunk so much beer at one sitting. And it was such nice light beer, too!
Mrs. Otway, so understanding as to most things connected with Germany,
had sometimes expressed her astonishment at the Germans' love of beer;
she thought it, strange to say, unhealthy, as well as unpalatable.
To this day Anna could remember the resentful pain with which she had
learnt, some time after she had arrived at the Trellis House, that many
English ladies allowed their servants "beer money." Had she made a stand
at the first, she too might have had "beer money." But, alas! Mrs.
Otway, when engaging her, had observed that in her household coffee and
milk took the place of alcohol. Poor Anna, at that time in deep trouble,
finding her eight-year-old child an almost insuperable bar to
employment, would have accepted any conditions, however hard, to find a
respectable roof once more over her head and that of her little Louisa.
But, as time had gone on, she had naturally resented Mrs. Otway's
peculiar rule concerning beer, and she had so far broken it as to enjoy
a jug of beer--of course at her own expense--once a week. But she had
only begun doing that after Mrs. Otway had raised her wages.
Host and guest talked on and on. Mr. Hegner confided to Anna his coming
change of name, and he seemed pleased to know that she thought it quite
a good plan.
Then suddenly he began to cross-question her about Mr. James Hayley. But
unluckily she could tell him very little beyond at last admitting that
he was, without doubt, in love with her young lady. There was, however,
nothing very interesting in that.
Yes, Mr. Hayley was fond of talking, but, as Anna had said just now, he
talked without saying anything, and she was too busy to pay much heed to
what he did say. He had come to dinner yesterday, that is, Saturday, but
he had had to leave Witanbury early this morning. The one thing Anna
_did_ remember having heard him remark, for he said it more than once,
was that up to the last moment they had all thought, in _his_ office,
that there would be no war.
"He is not the only one. I, too, believed that the war would only come
next year," observed Anna's host ruefully.
The old woman thought these questions quite natural, for all Germans
have an insatiable curiosity concerning what may be called the gossip
side of life.
At last Manfred Hegner pushed back his chair.
"Will you look at the pictures in these papers, Frau Bauer? I have to go
upstairs for something. I shall not be gone for more than two or three
minutes." He opened wide a sheet showing the Kaiser presiding at fire
drill on board his yacht.
Then, leaving his visitor quite happy, he hurried upstairs, and going
into his bedroom, locked the door and turned on the electric light. With
one of the twin tiny keys he always carried on his watch-chain he opened
his safe, and in a very few moments had found what he wanted. Polly
would indeed have been surprised had she seen what it was. From the back
of the pile of letters she had never disturbed, he drew out a shabby
little black book. It was a book of addresses written in alphabetical
order, and there were the names of people, and of places, all over the
Continent. This little book had been forwarded, registered, by one of
its present possessor's business friends in Holland some ten days ago,
together with a covering letter explaining the value, in a grocery
business, of these addresses. Mr. Hegner was not yet familiar with its
contents, but he found fairly quickly the address he wanted--that of a
Spanish merchant at Seville.
Taking out the block, which he always carried about with him, from his
pocket, he carefully copied on it the address in question. Then he
turned over the thin pages of the little black book till he came to
another address. This time it was the name of a Frenchman, Jules Boutet,
who lived in the Haute Ville, Boulogne. He put this name down, too, but
he did not trouble about Boutet's address. Finally he placed the book
back in the safe, among the private papers which Polly never disturbed.
Then, tearing off the top sheet of the block, he wrote the Spanish
address out, and under it, "Father can come back on or about August 19.
Boutet is expecting him."
He hesitated for some time over the signature. And then, at last, he put
the English Christian name of "Emily."
He pushed the book back, well out of sight, then shutting the safe
hastened downstairs again.
At any moment Polly might return home; they were early folk at the
Deanery.
Anna had already got up. "I think I must be going home," she observed.
"My ladies will soon be back. I do not like them to find the house
empty--though Mrs. Otway knows that I am here."
"Do you ever have occasion to go to the Post Office?" he said
thoughtfully.
And she answered, "Yes; I have a Savings Bank account. Do you advise me,
Mr. Hegner, to take my money out of the Savings Bank just now? Will they
not be taking all the money for the war?"
"I think I should take it out. Have you much in?" As he spoke, he was
filling up a foreign telegraph form, printing the words in.
"Not very much," she said cautiously. "But a little sum--yes."
"How much?"
She hesitated uncomfortably. "I have forty pounds in the English Savings
Bank," she said.
"If I were you"--he looked at her fixedly--"I should take it all out.
Make them give it you in sovereigns. And then, if you will bring it to
me here, I shall be able to give you for that--let me see----" he waited
a moment. "Yes, if you do not mind taking bank-notes and silver, I will
give you for that gold of yours forty pounds and five shillings. Gold is
useful to me in my business. Oh--and, Frau Bauer? When you do go to the
Post Office I should be glad if you would send off this telegram for me.
It is a business telegram, as you can see, in fact a code telegram."
She took the piece of paper in her hand, then looked at it and at him,
uncomprehendingly.
"It concerns a consignment of bitter oranges. I do not want the
Witanbury Post Office to know my business."
"Yes, I understand what you mean."
"It is, as you see, a Spanish telegram, and it will cost"--he
made a rapid calculation, then went to the sideboard and took
out some silver. "It will cost five-and-sixpence. I therefore give you
seven-and-sixpence, Frau Bauer. That is two shillings for your trouble.
If possible, I should prefer that no one sees this telegram being
despatched. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, yes. I quite understand."
"And if you are asked who gave it you to despatch, say it is a Mrs.
Smith, slightly known to you, whom you just met, and who was in too
great a hurry to catch her train to come into the Post Office."
Anna took a large purse out of her capacious pocket. In it she put the
telegram and the money. "I will send it off to-morrow morning," she
exclaimed. "You may count on me."
"Frau Bauer?"
She turned back.
"Only to wish you again a cordial good-night, and to say I hope you will
come again soon!"
"Indeed, that I will," she called out gratefully.
As he was shutting the back door, he saw his wife hurrying along across
the quiet little back street.
"Hullo, Polly!" he cried, and she came quickly across. "They are in
great trouble at the Deanery," she observed, "at least, Miss Edith is in
great trouble. She has been crying all to-day. They say her face is all
swelled out--that she looks an awful sight! Her lover is going away to
fight, and some one has told her that Lord Kitchener says none of the
lot now going out will ever come back! There is even talk of their being
married before he starts. But as her trousseau is not ready, my sister
thinks it would be a very stupid thing to do."
"Did the Dean get my letter?" he asked abruptly.
"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you that. I gave it to Mr. Dunstan, the
butler. He says that the Dean opened it and read it. And then what d'you
think the silly old thing said, Manfred?"
"You will have to get into the way of calling me Alfred," he said
calmly.
"Oh, bother!"
"Well, what did the reverend gentleman say?"
"Mr. Dunstan says that he just exclaimed, 'I'm sorry the good fellow
thinks it necessary to do that.' So you needn't have troubled after all.
All the way to the Deanery I was saying to myself, 'Mrs. Head--Polly
Head. Polly Head--Mrs. Head.' And no, it's no good pretending that I
like it, for I just don't!"
"Then you'll just have to do the other thing," he said roughly. Still,
though he spoke so disagreeably, he was yet in high good-humour. Two
hours ago this information concerning Miss Haworth's lover would have
been of the utmost interest to him, and even now it was of value, as
corroborating what Anna had already told him. Frau Bauer was going to be
very useful to him. Alfred Head, for already he was thinking of himself
by that name, felt that he had had a well-spent, as well as a pleasant,
evening.