Next morning Harry proceeded with his convoy along the Eyndhoven road and arrived late at his destination, Helmund. Almost the whole of the following day was occupied in loading his wagons and procuring extra carts to carry the stores collected by Grootz’s client, Peter Kolp. At his first interview with that "poor friend" of Mynheer Grootz, Harry made it clear that, as a matter of form, the provisions would be carefully tested in quality and quantity, with the result that they were found to be excellent and full weight. It was four o’clock before he was ready to start for Breda. He followed a different route on his return journey. Madame de Vaudrey’s house, Lindendaal, lay on the upper road toward Boxtel—a safer road to travel, as a report had come in that the French had made their appearance near Turnhout, to the south, and were coming apparently in the direction of Eyndhoven. Unluckily, the convoy had proceeded only a few miles on its return to Breda when, as it was crossing the Aa river, one of the horses took fright and toppled the cart into the water. Fortunately the stream was sluggish and shallow, but Harry saw that it would take some time to extricate the wagon from the mud and collect what part of its load was worth saving. Leaving Piet Brinker in charge of the work, he decided to push on himself with the remainder of the convoy, deliver the packet he carried for Madame de Vaudrey, and wait for the rescued wagon to overtake him. He knew that, with the hospitality universal in Holland, the countess would not allow him to proceed unrefreshed, and he was in truth not a little glad of the opportunity of seeing the lady whom Grootz had so emphatically called his friend. He therefore drove on. The wagon wheels ploughed deep furrows in the heavy sandy roads, and the big Dutch horses plodded on steadily but slowly. The road wound by and by through avenues of elms, pruned of their branches in the Dutch way, and looking to Harry’s English eyes very starved and ugly. At length he came to a wall on the right that appeared to enclose a park of some considerable size. A peasant was passing, whom he hailed, asking in Dutch whether this was the house of Madame de Vaudrey. The man looked stolidly at him without replying. Sherebiah repeated the question, using a different phrase. The Hollander answered at once that this certainly was Lindendaal, the chateau of the French lady. Harry sprang from his wagon, ordered the drivers to draw up by the side of the road, which was here parallel with a narrow canal, and entered the gate accompanied by Sherebiah. "I’ll tell you one thing that puzzles me, Sherry," he remarked, as they passed up an avenue bounded on both sides by a breast-high balustrade of stone. "You and I have been in this country the same time, and seen each as much as the other of the people, and yet you have beat me altogether in picking up the language, hard as I have worked at it. I don’t understand it."