ays--well, that'll help her, of course."

"But there's nothing _in_ the safe," Head objected, quickly, "nothing of
what might be called an incriminating nature, Mr. Watkins. Only business
letters and papers, and all of them sent me before the War."

The other man looked at him, and hesitated. He had gone quite as far as
old friendship allowed. "That's as may be," he said cautiously. "I know
nothing of all that. They've been sealed up, and are going off to
London. What caused you to be arrested, Mr. Head--this much I may tell
you--is information which was telephoned down to that London gentleman
half an hour ago. But it was just an accident that the key Mrs. Head had
hidden away was found so quickly--just a bit of bad luck for her, if I
may say so."

"Then I suppose I shan't be allowed to see Polly?" There was a tone of
extreme dejection in the voice.

"Well, we'll see about that! I'll see what I can do for you. You're not
to be charged till to-morrow morning. Then you'll be charged along with
that man--the man who came to the Trellis House this morning. He's been
found too. He went straight to those Pollits--you follow my meaning?
Mrs. Pollit is the daughter of that old German woman. I never could
abide _her_! Often and often I said to my missis, as I see her go
crawling about, 'There's a German as is taking away a good job from an
English woman.' So she was. Well, I must now tell them where to take
you. And I'm afraid you'll have to be stripped and searched--that's the
order in these kind of cases."

Alfred Head nodded. "I don't mind," he said stoutly. "I'm an innocent
man." But he had clenched his teeth together when he had heard the name
of Pollit uttered so casually. If Pollit told all he knew, then the game
was indeed up.

CHAPTER XXXIV

After the door had shut behind Alfred Head, Anna Bauer sat on, quite
motionless, awhile. What mind was left to her, after the terrifying and
agonising interview she had just had, was absorbed in the statement made
to her concerning Jervis Blake.

She remembered, with blinding clearness, the afternoon that Rose had
come into her kitchen to say in a quiet, toneless voice, "They think,
Anna, that they will have to take off his foot." She saw, as clearly as
if her nursling were there in this whitewashed little cell, the look of
desolate, dry-eyed anguish which had filled Rose's face.

But that false quietude had only lasted a few moments, for, in response
to her poor