Rawson-Clew had been polishing his eyeglass, he put it back in his eye before he spoke.  “My dear child,” he said; “in spite of the sheltered life with which you credit me, I assure you I have a very clear idea of the kind of things they will say.”

“Then for goodness sake, leave it to me,” Julia said, losing her temper; “I can do it a great deal better than you can; I’m not honest, and you are, and that’s a handicap.”

“In these cases,” Rawson-Clew answered imperturbably, “honesty requires the consideration of the lady first and truth afterwards—­a long way after.  Let me know what you want told and I will tell it—­with evidence—­I suppose you are equal to evidence?”

Julia laughed, but without much mirth.  “I do wish you would not come,” she said.

But he did, and they drove together through the town, past the bulb gardens, to the wooden house with the dark-tiled roof.  There Rawson-Clew paid the coachman and dismissed the carriage while Julia rang the bell.

In time the servant came to the door.  “Ach!” she cried at the sight of Julia, and, “G-r-r-r!” and other exclamations, uttered very gutturally and with upraised hands.  She was a country girl from some remote district, and she spoke a very unintelligible patois; at least Rawson-Clew found it so, his companion, apparently, was used to it.

Julia listened to the exclamations, and apparently to congratulations on her safe return, said in a friendly manner that she had a terrible adventure, and then asked where Mevrouw was.

Mevrouw was out, and Mijnheer was out too; a torrent more information followed, but Julia did not pay much attention to it, she turned to Rawson-Clew with the smile on her lips with which she laughed at herself.

“Denah saved her money and won her move,” she said; “it serves me right.  I under-rated her—­this is what always comes of under-rating the enemy.”

“Do you mean she knew where these people are?” Rawson-Clew asked.

“That is about it, she knew and I did not.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Wait till they come back, there is nothing else.”

He moved as if he thought to follow her into the house, but she did not approve of that.  “You cannot wait with me,” she said; “it is one thing to bring me home, quite another to wait with me here.”

He, however, thought differently, but he did not argue the point.  “Thank you,” he said, “I prefer to wait; I consider I am conducting this now, not you.”

He was a little annoyed by her ridiculous persistence, but she looked at him with the dancing lights coming back in her eyes.  “Oh, well, if you prefer to wait,” she said, “but I’m afraid you must do it alone.”  And before he realised what she was doing, she had run off, down the path, across an empty flower-bed and among some brushes behind.