rmation. The old lady was decidedly nervous of the impressive
Englishman who had come asking after her disgraced companion; she
moved her fat hands uneasily even before he asked, "Where has she
gone? Perhaps you would be kind enough to give me her address?"

"I cannot," she was obliged to say; "I have not it. I do not know
where she is."

Rawson-Clew stared. "But surely," he said, "you are mistaken? She was
here yesterday."

"Yes, yes; I know. But she is not here now; she went last night in
haste. I will tell you about it. You are a friend? Come in."

Without waiting, she led him into the drawing-room, and there left him
in some haste. The room struck him as familiar; he wondered why, until
he remembered that it must have been Julia's description which made
him so well acquainted with it. It was all just as she described; the
thick, dark-coloured carpet, with the little carefully-bound strips of
the same material laid over it to make paths to the piano, the stove,
and other frequented spots. The highly-polished furniture, upholstered
in black and yellow Utrecht velvet, the priceless Chinese porcelain
brought home by old Dutch merchants, and handed down from mother to
daughter for generations; the antimacassars of crochet work, the
snuff-coloured wall-paper, the wonderful painted tiles framed in ebony
that hung upon it. It was all just as she had said; the very light and
smell seemed familiar, she must somehow have given him an idea of them
too.

Just then Vrouw Van Heigen came back, and her husband with her; she
had been to fetch him, not feeling equal to dealing with the visitor
alone. Mijnheer, by her request, had put on his best coat, but he
still had his spectacles pushed upon his forehead, as they always were
when he was disturbed in the office.

There was a formal greeting--one never dispensed with that in Holland,
then Mijnheer said, "You are, I suppose, a friend of Miss Polkington's
father?"

Rawson-Clew, remembering the winter day at Marbridge, answered, "I am
acquainted with him."

Mijnheer nodded. "Yes, yes," he said; then, "it is very sad, and much
to be regretted. I cannot but give to you, and through you to her
father, very bad news of Miss Polkington. She is not what we thought
her; she has disgraced--"

But here Rawson-Clew interrupted, but in the quiet, leisurely way
which was so incomprehensible to the Hollanders. "My dear sir," he
said, "please spare yourself the trouble of these details;