"And now," said Mrs. Guthrie, looking at the little group of people who
sat round her in the Council Chamber, "and now I have told you, almost I
think word for word, everything my poor old Anna told me."
As Mr. Reynolds remained silent, she added, with a touch of defiance,
"And I am quite, quite sure that she told me the truth!"
Her eyes instinctively sought the Dean's face. Yes, there she found
sympathy,--sympathy and belief. It was impossible to tell what her
husband was thinking. His face was not altered--it was set in stern
lines of discomfort and endurance. The Government official looked
sceptical.
"I have no doubt that the woman has told you a good deal of the truth,
Mrs. Guthrie, but I do not think she has told you _all_ the truth, or
the most important part of it. According to your belief, she accepted
this very strange deposit without the smallest suspicion of the truth.
Now, is it conceivable that an intelligent, sensible, elderly woman of
the kind she has been described to me, could be such a fool?"
And then, for the first time since his wife had returned there from her
interview with Anna, Major Guthrie intervened.
"I think you forget, Mr. Reynolds, that this took place long before the
war. In fact, if I may recall certain dates to your memory, this must
have been a little tiny cog in the machine which Germany began
fashioning after the Agadir crisis. It was that very autumn that Anna
Bauer went to visit her nephew and niece in Berlin, and it was soon
after she came back that, according to her story, a stranger, with some
kind of introduction from her nephew, who is, I believe, connected with
the German police----"
"Is he indeed?" exclaimed Mr. Reynolds. "You never told me that!" he
looked at Mrs. Guthrie.
"Didn't I?" she said. "Yes, it's quite true, Wilhelm Warshauer is a
sub-inspector of police in Berlin. But I feel sure he is a perfectly
respectable man."
She fortunately did not see the expression which flashed across her
questioner's face. Not so the Dean. Mr. Reynolds' look stirred Dr.
Haworth to a certain indignation. He had known Anna Bauer as long as her
mistress had, and he had become quite fond of the poor old woman with
whom he had so often exchanged pleasant greetings in German.
"Look here!" he began, in a pleasant, persuasive voice. "I have a
suggestion to make, Mr. Reynolds. We have here in Witanbury a most
excellent fellow, one of our city councillors. He is of German birth,
but was naturalised long ago. As I expect you know, there was a little
riot here last week, and this man--Alfred Head is his name--had all his
windows broken. He refused to prosecute, and behaved with the greatest
sense and dignity. Now I suggest that we set Alfred Head on to old Anna
Bauer! I believe she would tell him things that she would not even tell
her very kind and considerate mistress. I feel sure that he would find
out the real truth. As a matter of fact I met him just now when I was
coming down here. He was full of regret and concern, and he spoke very
kindly and very sensibly of this poor old woman. He said he knew
her--that she was a friend of his wife's, and he asked me if he could be
of any assistance to her."
Thinking he saw a trace of hesitation on the London official's face, he
added, "After all, such an interview could do no harm, and might do
good. Yes, I strongly do advise that we take Alfred Head into our
counsels, and explain to him exactly what it is we wish to know."
"I am quite sure," exclaimed Mrs. Guthrie impulsively, "that Anna would
not tell him any more than she told me. I am convinced, not only that
she told me the truth, but that she told me nothing but the truth--I
don't believe she kept _anything_ back!"
Mr. Reynolds looked straight at the speaker of these impetuous words. He
smiled. It was a kindly, albeit a satiric smile. He was getting quite
fond of Mrs. Guthrie! And though his duties often brought him in contact
with strange and unusual little groups of people, this was the first
time he had ever had to bring into his official work a bride on her
wedding day. This was the first time also that a dean had ever been
mixed up in any of the difficult and dangerous affairs with which he was
now concerned. It was, too, the first time that he had been brought into
personal contact with one of his own countrymen "broken in the war."
"I hope that you are right," he said soothingly. "Still, as Mr. Dean
kindly suggests, it may be worth while allowing this man--Head is his
name, is it?--to see the woman. It generally happens that a person of
the class to which Anna Bauer belongs will talk much more freely to
some one of their own sort than to an employer, however kind. In fact,
it often happens that after having remained quite silent and refused to
say anything to, say, a solicitor, such a person will come out with the
whole truth to an old friend, or to a relation. We will hope that this
will be the case this time. And now I don't think that we need detain
you and Major Guthrie any longer. Of course you shall be kept fully
informed of any developments."
"If there is any question, as I suppose there will be, of Anna Bauer
being sent for trial," said Major Guthrie, "then I should wish, Mr.
Reynolds, that my own solicitor undertakes her defence. My wife feels
that she is under a great debt of gratitude to this German woman. Anna
has not only been her servant for over eighteen years, but she was nurse
to Mrs. Guthrie's only child. We neither of us feel in the least
inclined to abandon Anna Bauer because of what has happened. I also wish
to associate myself very strongly with what Mrs. Guthrie said just now.
I believe the woman to be substantially innocent, and I think she has
almost certainly told my wife the truth, as far as she knows it."
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----"
He turned and drew her into his strong arms. "I've married the sweetest,
the most generous, and--and, Mary, the dearest of women."
"At any rate you can always say to yourself, 'A poor thing, but mine
own--'" she said, half laughing, half crying. And then their lips met
and clung together, for the first time.