“Well, I was,” said Anna-Felicitas, unscrewing her eyes and with gentle firmness taking the plate of cakes from him and putting it on the tray.  “I was laughing at your swift conviction that the man out there is Mr. Ridding.  I don’t know who he is but I know heaps of people he isn’t, and one of the principal ones is Mr. Ridding.”

“I’m going to wait on him,” said Mr. Twist, taking the tray.

“It would be most unsuitable,” said Anna-Felicitas, taking it too.

“Let go,” said Mr. Twist, pulling.

“Is this to be an unseemly wrangle?” inquired Anna-Felicitas mildly; and her eyes began to screw up again.

“If you’ll oblige me by going into the office,” he said, having got the tray, for Anna-Felicitas was never one to struggle, “Mrs. Bilton and me will do the rest of the waiting for to-day.”

He went out grasping the tray, and made for the verandah.  His appearance in this new role was greeted by the Germans with subdued applause—­subdued, because they felt Mr. Twist wasn’t quite as cordial to them as they had supposed he would be, and they were accordingly being a little more cautious in their methods with him than they had been at the beginning of the afternoon.  He took no notice of them, except that his ears turned red when he knocked against a chair and the tray nearly fell out of his hands and they all cried out Houp la.  Damn them, thought Mr. Twist. Houp la indeed.

In the farthest corner of the otherwise empty and very chilly verandah, sitting alone and staring out at the stars, was a man.  He was a young man.  He was also an attractive young man, with a thin brown face and very bright blue twinkling eyes.  The light from the window behind him shone on him as he turned his head when he heard the swing doors open, and Mr. Twist saw these things distinctly and at once.  He also saw how the young man’s face fell on his, Mr. Twist’s, appearance with the tray, and he also saw with some surprise how before he had reached him it suddenly cleared again.  And the young man got up too, just as Mr. Twist arrived at the table—­got up with some little difficulty, for he had to lean hard on a thick stick, but yet obviously with empressement.

“You’ve forgotten the sugar,” said Anna-Felicitas’s gentle voice behind Mr. Twist as he was putting down the tray; and there she was, sure enough, looking smugger than ever.

“This is Mr. Twist,” said Anna-Felicitas with an amiable gesture.  “That I was telling you about,” she explained to the young man.

“When?” asked Mr. Twist, surprised.

“Before,” said Anna-Felicitas.  “We were talking for some time before I went in to order the tea, weren’t we?” she said to the young man, angelically smiling at him.

“Rather,” he said; and since he didn’t on this introduction remark to Mr. Twist that he was pleased to meet him, it was plain he couldn’t be an American.  Therefore he must be English.  Unless, suddenly suspected Mr. Twist who had Germans badly on his nerves that day and was ready to suspect anything, he was German cleverly got up for evil purposes to appear English.  But the young man dispersed these suspicions by saying that he was over from England on six months’ leave, and that his name was Elliott.