Mrs. Otway's eyes filled with tears, yet she felt as if a load of real anxiety had suddenly been lifted from her heart.

"Perhaps that will be best," she said. "But of course there is no hurry about it. There will be certain formalities to go through, and meanwhile----" Again she stopped speaking for a moment, then went on steadily: "A friend of Major Guthrie's--one of his brother officers who has just come home from the Front--is also to be married to-morrow. His name is Captain Pech.e.l.l, and the lady also is known to Major Guthrie; her name is Miss Trepell. I have arranged to let the Trellis House to them for six weeks, and I have to tell you, Anna, that they will bring their own servants. Before I knew of this new plan of yours, I arranged for you to go to Miss Forsyth while this house is let. However, the matter will now be very much simpler to arrange, and you will only stay with Miss Forsyth till arrangements have been made for your comfortable return to Germany."

The colour rushed to Anna's face. Then she was being turned out--after all these years of devoted service!

Perhaps something of what Anna was feeling betrayed itself, for Mrs.

Otway went on, nervously and conciliatingly: "I did try to arrange for you to go and spend the time with your daughter, but apparently they will not allow Germans to be transferred from one town to another without a great deal of fuss, and I knew, Anna, that you would not really want to go to the Pollits. I felt sure you would rather stay in Witanbury. But if you dislike the idea of going to Miss Forsyth, then I think I can arrange for you to come out to Dorycote----" But even as she said the words she knew that such an arrangement would never work.

"No, no," said Anna, in German. "It does not matter where I go for a few days. If I am in Miss Forsyth's house I can see my gracious young lady from time to time. She will ever be kind to her poor old nurse." And Mrs. Otway could not find it in her heart to tell Anna that Rose was also going away.

CHAPTER XXIX

Anna stood peeping behind the pretty muslin curtain of her kitchen window. She was standing in exactly the same place and att.i.tude she had stood in eight months before, on the first day of war. But oh, how different were the sensations and the thoughts with which she now looked out on the familiar scene! She had then been anxious and disturbed, but not as she was disturbed and anxious to-day.

The Trellis House had become so entirely her home that she resented bitterly being forced to leave it against her will. Also, she dreaded the thought of the days she would have to spend under Miss Forsyth's roof.

Anna had never liked Miss Forsyth. Miss Forsyth had a rather short, sharp way with her, or so the old German woman considered--and her house was always full of such queer folk below and above stairs. Just now there was the Belgian family, and also, as Anna had managed to discover, three odd-come-shorts in the kitchen.

Anna's general unease had not been lessened by a mysterious letter which she had received from her daughter this morning. In it the writer hinted that her husband was getting into some fresh trouble. Louisa had ended with a very disturbing sentence: "I feel as if I can't bear my life!"--that was what Louisa had written.

The minutes dragged by, and Anna, staring out into the now deserted Close--deserted, save for a number of carriages and motors which were waiting by the little gate leading into the Cathedral enclosure--became very worried and impatient.

From her point of view it was much to be wished that the visitor she was expecting should be come and gone before the marriage party came out of the Cathedral; yet when she had seen how surprised, and even hurt, both her dear ladies had been on learning of her intention to stay at home this morning, she had nearly told them the truth! Everything was different now--Willi would not, could not, mind!

What had restrained her was the memory of how strongly Alfred Head had impressed on her the importance of secrecy--of secrecy as concerned himself. If she began telling anything, she might find herself telling everything. Also, Mrs. Otway might think it very strange, what English people call "sly," that Anna had not told her before.

And yet this matter she had kept so closely hidden within herself for three years was a very simple thing, after all! Only the taking charge of a number of parcels--four, as a matter of fact--for a gentleman who was incidentally one of Willi Warshauer's chiefs.

The person who had brought them to the Trellis House had come in the March of 1912, and she remembered him very distinctly. He had arrived in a motor, and had only stayed a very few minutes. Anna would have liked to have given him a little supper, but he had been in a great hurry, and in fact had hardly spoken to her at all.

From something which he had said when himself carefully bringing the parcels through the kitchen into her bedroom, and also from a word Willi had let fall, she knew that what had been left with her was connected with some new, secret process in the chemical business. In that special branch of trade, as Anna was aware, the Germans were far, far ahead of the British.

And as she stood there by the window, waiting, staring across the now deserted green, at the group of carriages which stood over near the gate leading to the Cathedral, she began to wonder uneasily if she had made it quite clear to Mr. Head that the man who was coming on this still secret business must be sure to come to-day! The lady and gentleman to whom the house had been let were arriving at six, and their maids two hours before.

Suddenly the bells rang out a joyous peal, and Anna felt a thrill of exasperation and sharp regret. If she had known that her visitor would be late, then she, too, could have been present in the Cathedral. It had been a bitter disappointment to her not to see her gracious lady married to Major Guthrie.

Letting the curtain fall, she went quickly upstairs into what had been Miss Rose's bedroom. From there she knew she could get a better view.

Yes, there they all were--streaming out of the great porch. She could now see the bride and bridegroom, arm-in-arm, walking down the path.

They were walking more slowly than most newly married couples walked after a wedding. As a rule, wedding parties hurried rather quickly across the open s.p.a.ce leading from the porch to the gate.

She lost sight of them while they were getting into the motor which had been lent to them for the occasion, but she did catch a glimpse of Mrs.

Otway's flushed face as the car sped along to the left, towards the gate house.

The path round the green was gradually filling up with people, for the congregation had been far larger than anyone had thought it would be.

News in such a place as Witanbury spreads quickly, and though the number of invited guests had been very, very few, the number of uninvited sympathisers and interested spectators had been many.

Suddenly Anna caught sight of her young lady and of Mr. Jervis Blake. As she did so the tears welled up into her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. She could never get used to the sight of this young bridegroom with his crutch, and that though he managed it very cleverly, and would soon--so Rose had declared--be able to do with only a stick.

Anna hoped that the two would come in and see her for a minute, but instead they joined Mr. and Mrs. Robey, and were now walking round the other side of the Close.

Anna went downstairs again. In a moment, Mr. Hayley, whom she had never liked, and who she felt sure did not like her, would be coming in to have his luncheon, with another gentleman from London.

Yes, there was the ring. She went to the front door and opened it with an unsmiling face. The two young men walked through into the hall. It would have been very easy for James Hayley to have said a kind word to the old German woman he had known so long, but it did not occur to him to do so; had anyone suggested it, he would certainly have done it.

"We've plenty of time," she heard him say to the other gentleman. "Your train doesn't go till two o'clock. As for me, I'm very hungry! I made a very early start, you know!" and he led his guest into the dining-room, calling out as he did so: "It's all right, Anna! We can wait on ourselves."

Anna went back into her kitchen. She reminded herself that Mr. Hayley was one of those gentlemen who give a great deal of trouble and never a tip--unless, that is, they are absolutely forced to do so by common custom.

In Germany a gentleman who was always lunching and dining at a house would, by that common custom, have been compelled to tip the servants--not so in this hospitable but foolish, ill-regulated England.

Here people only tip when they sleep. Anna had always thought it an extremely unfair arrangement. Now Major Guthrie, though he was an Englishman, had lived enough in Germany to know what was right and usual, and several times, in the last few years, he had presented Anna with half a sovereign. This had naturally made her like him more than she would otherwise have done.

There came another ring at the door. This time it was Miss Forsyth, and there was quite a kindly smile on her face. "Well," she said, "well, Mrs. Bauer?" (she had never been as familiar with Anna as were most of Mrs. Otway's friends). "I have come to find something for Mrs. Ot---- I mean Mrs. Guthrie. She has given me the key of her desk." And she went through into the drawing-room.

Anna began moving about restlessly. Her tin trunk was packed, and all ready to be moved to Miss Forsyth's. And Mrs. Otway, busy as she had been and absorbed in her own affairs while in town, had yet remembered to stipulate that one of the large cupboards in Anna's bedroom should remain locked, and full of Anna's things.

It was now nearly one o'clock. What could have happened to her business visitor? And then, just as she was thinking this for the hundredth time, she heard the unmistakable sound of a motor coming slowly down the road outside. Quickly she went out to the back door.

The motor was a small, low, open car, and without surprise she saw that the man who now was getting out of it was the same person whom she had seen in the autumn leaving Alfred Head's house. But this time there was no Boy Scout--the stranger was alone.

He hurried towards her. "Am I speaking to Mrs. Bauer?" he asked, in a sharp, quick tone. And then, as she said "Yes," and dropped a little curtsey, he went on: "I had a breakdown--a most tiresome thing! But I suppose it makes no difference? You have the house to yourself?"

She hesitated--was she bound to tell him of the two gentlemen who were having their luncheon in the dining-room which overlooked the garden, and of Miss Forsyth in the drawing-room? She decided that no--she was not obliged to tell him anything of the sort. If she did, he might want to go away and come back another time. Then everything would have to be begun over again.

"The parcels all ready are," she said. "Shall I them bring?"

"No, no! I will come with you. We will make two journeys, each taking one. That will make the business less long."

He followed her through the kitchen, the scullery, and so into her bedroom.

There were two corded tin boxes, as well as a number of other packages, standing ready for removal.

"Surely I have not to take all this away?" he exclaimed. "I thought there were only four small parcels!"

Anna smiled. "Most of it my luggage is," she said. "These yours are----"

she pointed to four peculiar-shaped packages, which might have been old-fashioned bandboxes. They were done up in grey paper, the kind grocers use, and stoutly corded. Through each cord was fixed a small strong, iron handle. "They very heavy are," observed Anna thoughtfully.

And the man muttered something--it sounded like an oath. "I think you had better leave the moving of them to me," he said. "Stand aside, will you?"

He took up two of them; then once more uttered an exclamation, and let them gently down again. "I shall have to take one at a time," he said.

"I'm not an over-strong man, Mrs. Bauer, and as you seem to have managed to move them, no doubt you can help me with this one."