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.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

Mr. Reynolds walked back up the steps of the Council House of Witanbury.

He felt as if he had just had a pleasant glimpse of that Kingdom of Romance which so many seek and so few find, and that now he was returning into the everyday world. Sure enough, when he reached the Council Chamber, he found Dr. Haworth there with a prosaic-looking person. This was evidently the man to whom the Dean thought Anna would be more likely to reveal the truth than to her kind, impulsive employer.

Mr. Reynolds had not expected to see so intelligent and young-looking a man. He was familiar with the type of German who has for long made his career in England. But this naturalised German was not true to type at all! Though probably over fifty, he still had an alert, active figure, and he was extraordinarily like someone Mr. Reynolds had seen. In fact, for a few moments the likeness quite haunted him. Who on earth could it be that this man so strongly resembled? But soon he gave up the likeness as a bad job--it didn't matter, after all!

"Well, Mr. Head, I expect that Dr. Haworth has already told you what it is we hope from you."

"Yes, sir, I think I understand."

"Are you an American?" asked the other abruptly.

The Witanbury City Councillor looked slightly embarra.s.sed. "No," he said at last. "But I was in the United States for some years."

"You were never connected, I suppose, with the New York Police?"

"Oh no, sir!" There was no mistaking the man's genuine surprise at the question.

"I only asked you," said Mr. Reynolds hastily, "because I feel as if we had met before. But I suppose I made a mistake. By the way, do you know Anna Bauer well?"

Alfred Head waited a moment; he looked instinctively to the Dean for guidance, but the Dean made no sign.

"I know Anna Bauer pretty well," he said at last. "But she's more a friend of my wife than of mine. She used sometimes to come and spend the evening with us."

He was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Had Anna mentioned him? He thought not. He hoped not. "What is it exactly you want me to get out of her?" he asked, cringingly.

Mr. Reynolds hesitated. Somehow he did not at all like the man standing before him. Shortly he explained how much the old woman had already admitted; and then, "Perhaps you could ascertain whether she has received any money since the outbreak of war, and if so, by what method.

I may tell you in confidence, Mr. Head, there has been a good deal of German money going about in this part of the world. We hold certain clues, but up to the present time we have not been able to trace this money to its source."

"I think I quite understand what it is you require to know, sir," said Alfred Head respectfully.

There came a knock at the door. "Mr. Reynolds in there? You are wanted, sir, on the telephone. A London call from Scotland Yard."

"All right," he said quietly. "Tell them they must wait a moment. Will you please take Mr. Head to the cell where Anna Bauer is confined?"

Then he hurried off to the telephone, well aware that he might now be about to hear the real solution of the mystery. Some of his best people had been a long time on this Witanbury job.

Terrified and bewildered as she had been by the events of midday, Anna, when putting her few things together, had not forgotten her work. True, she had been too much agitated and upset to crochet or knit during the long hours which had elapsed since the morning. But the conversation she had had with her mistress had rea.s.sured her. How good that dear, gracious lady had been! How kindly she had accepted the confession of deceit!

Yes, but it was very, very wrong of her, Anna Bauer, to have done what she had done. She knew that now. What was the money she had earned--a few paltry pounds--compared with all this fearful trouble? Still, she felt now sure the trouble would soon be over. She had a pathetic faith, not only in her mistress, but also in Mrs. Jervis Blake and in the Dean.

They would see her through this strange, shameful business. So she took her workbag off the bed, and brought out her crochet.

She had just begun working when she heard the door open, and there came across her face a sudden look of apprehension. She was weary of being questioned, and of parrying questions. But now she had told all she knew. There was great comfort in that thought.

Her face cleared, became quite cheerful and smiling, when she saw Alfred Head. He, too, was a kind friend; he, too, would help her as much as he could--if indeed any more help were needed. But the Dean and her own lady would certainly be far more powerful than Alfred Head.

Poor Old Anna was not in a condition to be very observant. She did not see that there was anything but a cordial expression on her friend's face, and that he looked indeed very stern and disagreeable.

The door was soon shut behind him, and instead of advancing with hand outstretched, he crossed his arms and looked down at her, silently, for a few moments.

At last, speaking between his teeth, and in German, he exclaimed, "This is a pretty state of things, Frau Bauer. You have made more trouble than you know!"

She stared up at him, uncomprehendingly. "I don't understand," she faltered. "I did nothing. What do you mean?"

"I mean that you have brought us all within sight of the gallows.

Yourself quite as much as your friends."

"The gallows?" exclaimed old Anna, in an agitated whisper. "Explain yourself, Mr. Head----" She was trembling now. "What is it you mean?"

"I do not know what it is you have told," he spoke in a less savage tone. "And I know as a matter of fact that there is very little you _could_ say, for you have been kept in the dark. But one thing I may tell you. If you say one word, Frau Bauer, of where you received your blood money just after the War broke out, then I, too, will say what _I_ know. If I do that, instead of being deported--that is, instead of being sent comfortably back to Berlin, to your niece and her husband, who surely will look after you and make your old age comfortable--then I swear to you before G.o.d _that you will hang_!"

"Hang? But I have done nothing!"

Anna was now almost in a state of collapse, and he saw his mistake.

"You are in no real danger at all if you will only do exactly what I tell you," he declared, impressively.

"Yes," she faltered. "Yes, Herr Hegner, indeed I will obey you."

He looked round him hastily. "Never, never call me that!" he exclaimed.

"And now listen quite quietly to what I have to say. Remember you are in no danger--no danger at all--if you follow my orders."

She looked at him dumbly.

"You are to say that the parcels came to you from your nephew in Germany. It will do him no harm. The English police cannot reach him."

"But I've already said," she confessed, distractedly, "that they were brought to me by a friend of his."

"It is a pity you said that, but it does not much matter. The one thing you must conceal at all hazards is that you received any money from me.

Do you understand that, Frau Bauer? Have you said anything of that?"