and things for a long while,—­certainly till he had hit on a plan by which he would be able to get hold of the Princess’s money and his own without betraying where they were; and here on his table, the second unpleasant surprise that greeted him on entering his new home (the first had been his late master’s dreadful smile) was the bill for the furnishing of it.  To a man possessed of only forty pounds any bill will seem tremendous.  This one was for nearly two hundred; and at the end of the long list of items, the biggest of which was that bathroom without water that had sent Annalise out on strike, was the information that a remittance would oblige.  A remittance!  Poor Fritzing.  He crushed the paper in his hand and made caustic mental comments on the indecency of these people, clamouring for their money almost before the last workman was out of the place, certainly before the smell of paint was out of it, and clamouring, too, in the face of the Shuttleworth countenance and support.  He had not been a week yet in Symford, and had been so busy, so rushed, that he had put off thinking out a plan for getting his money over from Germany until he should be settled.  Never had he imagined people would demand payment in this manner.  Never, either, had he imagined the Princess would want so much money for the poor; and never, of course, had he imagined that there would be a children’s treat within three days of their arrival.  Least of all had he dreamed that Annalise would so soon need more bribing; for that was clearly the only thing to do.  He saw it was the only thing, after he had stood for some time thinking and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.  She must be bribed, silenced, given in to.  He must part with as much as he possibly could of that last forty pounds; as much, also, as he possibly could of his pride, and submit to have the hussy’s foot on his neck.  Some day, some day, thought Fritzing grinding his teeth, he would be even with her; and when that day came he promised himself that it should certainly begin with a sound shaking.  “Truly,” he reflected, “the foolish things of the world confound the wise, and the weak things of the world confound the things that are mighty.”  And he went out, and standing in the back yard beneath Annalise’s window softly called to her.  “Fraeulein,” called Fritzing, softly as a dove wooing its mate.

“Aha,” thought Annalise, sitting on her bed, quick to mark the change; but she did not move.

“Fraeulein,” called Fritzing again; and it was hardly a call so much as a melodious murmur.

Annalise did not move, but she grinned.

“Fraeulein, come down one moment,” cooed Fritzing, whose head was quite near the attic window so low was Creeper Cottage.  “I wish to speak to you.  I wish to give you something.”

Annalise did not move, but she stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth; for the first time since she left Calais she was enjoying herself.