Taking out the block, which he always carried about with him, from his pocket, he carefully copied on it the address in question. Then he turned over the thin pages of the little black book till he came to another address. This time it was the name of a Frenchman, Jules Boutet, who lived in the Haute Ville, Boulogne. He put this name down, too, but he did not trouble about Boutet's address. Finally he placed the book back in the safe, among the private papers which Polly never disturbed. Then, tearing off the top sheet of the block, he wrote the Spanish address out, and under it, "Father can come back on or about August 19. Boutet is expecting him." He hesitated for some time over the signature. And then, at last, he put the English Christian name of "Emily." He pushed the book back, well out of sight, then shutting the safe hastened downstairs again. At any moment Polly might return home; they were early folk at the Deanery. Anna had already got up. "I think I must be going home," she observed. "My ladies will soon be back. I do not like them to find the house empty--though Mrs. Otway knows that I am here." "Do you ever have occasion to go to the Post Office?" he said thoughtfully. And she answered, "Yes; I have a Savings Bank account. Do you advise me, Mr. Hegner, to take my money out of the Savings Bank just now? Will they not be taking all the money for the war?" "I think I should take it out. Have you much in?" As he spoke, he was filling up a foreign telegraph form, printing the words in. "Not very much," she said cautiously. "But a little sum--yes." "How much?" She hesitated uncomfortably. "I have forty pounds in the English Savings Bank," she said. "If I were you"--he looked at her fixedly--"I should take it all out. Make them give it you in sovereigns. And then, if you will bring it to me here, I shall be able to give you for that--let me see----" he waited a moment. "Yes, if you do not mind taking bank-notes and silver, I will give you for that gold of yours forty pounds and five shillings. Gold is useful to me in my business. Oh--and, Frau Bauer? When you do go to the Post Office I should be glad if you would send off this telegram for me. It is a business telegram, as you can see, in fact a code telegram." She took the piece of paper in her hand, then looked at it and at him, uncomprehendingly. "It concerns a consignment of bitter oranges. I do not want the Witanbury Post Office to know my business." "Yes, I understand what you mean." "It is, as you see, a Spanish telegram, and it will cost"--he made a rapid calculation, then went to the sideboard and took out some silver. "It will cost five-and-sixpence. I therefore give you seven-and-sixpence, Frau Bauer. That is two shillings for your trouble. If possible, I should prefer that no one sees this telegram being despatched. Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, yes. I quite understand."