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"Yours seems a simple failure, mine is a compound one. If it is ignominious, as you say, to fail, it would have been equally ignominious in another way if I had succeeded. I could not have been satisfied either way." "That sounds very complicated," Rawson-Clew said; "but then, I imagine you are a complicated young person." "And you are not."
Rawson-Clew looked up with faint admiration, righteous indignation, or at all events the open expression of it, was a discourtesy practically extinct with the people among whom he usually lived. He felt respect for the old bulb grower who would be guilty of it. "I am sorry you should think so badly of me," he said; "I can only assure you that it is without reason. You do not believe me?
From past experience, she expected something unpleasant of his coming, even though the description sounded favourable; but, as she heard no more of it, she forgot all about him in the course of time. It was on the next afternoon that Rawson-Clew drove to 31 Berwick Street.
"No, miss," was the answer; "it's another gentleman to see the master." "Who?" Julia's mind was alert for fresh difficulties. "Mr. Rawson-Clew." "I don't know who he is," Mary went on; "I've never set eyes on him before, but he's a grand sort of gentleman; I hardly liked to put him in the dining-room, only missis's orders was 'Mr. Gillat or any gentleman to see the master there."
He asked the staring servant where her master and mistress were; it took time for him to make out her answers, but at last he did. It was a distant bulb farm, and Mijnheer had gone there on business; the fact that Julia had not returned home naturally did not keep the good man from his work. These details Rawson-Clew did not know; the name only was given to him, and that conveyed nothing.
They were speaking Dutch, and she was behaving Dutch, as plain and demure a person as it was possible to imagine, until she looked back, then Rawson-Clew saw a very devil of mockery and mischief flash up in her eyes. Only for a second; the expression was gone before her head was turned again, and that was decorously soon.
It was a very shabby shoe; at another time she might have minded about it, and even refused to have it fastened on that account; to-night she did not care, which was perhaps as well, for Rawson-Clew knew long ago all about the shabbiness the only thing he did not know before was the good shape of the foot inside.
Are you afraid of me? Is that why you would not have married me you would have been afraid to live at close quarters with me? Do you still think you don't know me well enough?" "I don't know your name." The answer was ridiculous, but he knew how the ridiculous touched even tragedies for Julia. "Hubert Farquhar Rawson-Clew," he said solemnly. "Now "
But to attempt to gain a secret for national use was quite another thing, not only justifiable but right, more especially if, as was probably the case, the attempt was in fulfilment of a direct order. If after Herr Van de Greutz had a secret worth anything to England, it was that which had brought Rawson-Clew to the little town.
She was naturally much interested in the new streaked daffodil; so much so, that she spoke of it afterwards, not only to those people who shared her taste, but also to at least one who did not. Rawson-Clew was back in London. He had not been back long, but already he had begun the preliminaries of a search for Mr. Gillat.
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