“Ah, yes,” he said; “Julia is in Holland; she has been there a long time.”

“Is she there still?” Rawson-Clew asked.  “Can you give me her address?”

“Well,” Johnny said regretfully, “not exactly.  But she is abroad somewhere,” the last with an increase of cheerfulness, as if to indicate that this was something, at all events.

“You don’t know where she is?” Rawson-Clew inquired.  “Does her father?  I suppose he does—­some one must.”

“No,” Johnny said.  “No; I’m afraid not.  Certainly her father does not, nor her mother—­none of us know; but, as you say, somebody must know—­the people she is with, for instance.”

Rawson-Clew grew a little impatient.  “Do you mean,” he said, “that her family are content to know nothing of her whereabouts?  Have they taken no steps to find her?”

“Well, you see,” Johnny answered slowly, “there aren’t any steps to take.  They don’t want to find her; she is quite well and happy, no doubt, and she will come back when she is ready.  Mrs. Polkington—­do you know Mrs. Polkington?  A wonderful woman!  She is very busy just now, she is shining.  Miss Cherie is quite a belle.  They really have not—­have not accommodation for Julia; it is not, of course, that they don’t want her—­they have not exactly room for her.”

“But surely they want to know where she is?” Rawson-Clew persisted.

“No, they don’t,” Johnny told him.  “They know she is all right; she told them so, and told them she did not want to be found.  They are satisfied—­” He broke off, feeling that the visitor was more astonished than admiring of such a state of affairs.  “Family emotions and sentiments, you know,” he explained in defence of this family, “are not every one’s strong point; the social, or the religious, or—­” (he waved his hand comprehendingly) “or the national may stand first, and why not?”

“Are you satisfied?” Rawson-Clew asked briefly.

“I’d sooner be able to see her,” Johnny admitted.  “I’m fond of her; yes, she’s been very kind and good; I miss seeing her.  But, of course, she has her way to make in the world.”

“But are you satisfied that she should make it thus?  That she should leave the Dutch family she was with and disappear, leaving no address?”

“Sir,” Johnny said with dignity, “I am quite satisfied, and if any one says that he is not, I would be pleased to talk to him.”

But the dignity left Mr. Gillat’s manner as quickly as it came; before Rawson-Clew could say anything, he was apologising.  “You must forgive me,” he said; “I am very fond of that little girl; and I thought—­but I had no business to think; I’m an old fool, to think you meant—­”

“I only meant,” Rawson-Clew said, speaking with unconscious gentleness, “that I was afraid she might be in difficulties.  She may be in trouble about money, or something.”

“Oh, no,” Johnny said cheerfully; “she has a fine head for money matters.  I have sometimes thought, since she has been gone, that she has the best head in the family!  She’s all right—­quite right; there’s no need to be uneasy about her.  I’ll show you the letter she wrote me.”