"I only asked you," said Mr. Reynolds hastily, "because I feel as if we had met before. But I suppose I made a mistake. By the way, do you know Anna Bauer well?" Alfred Head waited a moment; he looked instinctively to the Dean for guidance, but the Dean made no sign. "I know Anna Bauer pretty well," he said at last. "But she's more a friend of my wife than of mine. She used sometimes to come and spend the evening with us." He was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Had Anna mentioned him? He thought not. He hoped not. "What is it exactly you want me to get out of her?" he asked, cringingly. Mr. Reynolds hesitated. Somehow he did not at all like the man standing before him. Shortly he explained how much the old woman had already admitted; and then, "Perhaps you could ascertain whether she has received any money since the outbreak of war, and if so, by what method. I may tell you in confidence, Mr. Head, there has been a good deal of German money going about in this part of the world. We hold certain clues, but up to the present time we have not been able to trace this money to its source." "I think I quite understand what it is you require to know, sir," said Alfred Head respectfully. There came a knock at the door. "Mr. Reynolds in there? You are wanted, sir, on the telephone. A London call from Scotland Yard." "All right," he said quietly. "Tell them they must wait a moment. Will you please take Mr. Head to the cell where Anna Bauer is confined?" Then he hurried off to the telephone, well aware that he might now be about to hear the real solution of the mystery. Some of his best people had been a long time on this Witanbury job. * * * * * Terrified and bewildered as she had been by the events of midday, Anna, when putting her few things together, had not forgotten her work. True, she had been too much agitated and upset to crochet or knit during the long hours which had elapsed since the morning. But the conversation she had had with her mistress had reassured her. How good that dear, gracious lady had been! How kindly she had accepted the confession of deceit! Yes, but it was very, very wrong of her, Anna Bauer, to have done what she had done. She knew that now. What was the money she had earned--a few paltry pounds--compared with all this fearful trouble? Still, she felt now sure the trouble would soon be over. She had a pathetic faith, not only in her mistress, but also in Mrs. Jervis Blake and in the Dean. They would see her through this strange, shameful business. So she took her workbag off the bed, and brought out her crochet. She had just begun working when she heard the door open, and there came across her face a sudden look of apprehension. She was weary of being questioned, and of parrying questions. But now she had told all she knew. There was great comfort in that thought.