She certainly did not understand why he should speak so seriously about it.

“And I am to be marched like a prisoner?  I may not turn my head?”

She began to be amused.  He scarcely knew what to say to her.  At last he said, earnestly,

“Natalie, it is of great importance to you that I should see this lady—­that I should try to see her.  Do as I bid you, my dearest.”

“Then you know who she is?” said Natalie, promptly.

“I have a suspicion, at all events; and—­and—­something may happen—­that you will be glad of.”

“What, more mysterious presents?” the girl said, lightly; “more messages from Santa Claus?”

He could not answer her.  The consciousness that this might be indeed Natalie’s mother who was so near to them; the fear of the possible consequences of any sudden disclosure; the thought that this opportunity might escape him, and he leaving in a few days for America:  all these things whirled through his brain in rapid and painful succession.  But there was soon to be an end of them.  Natalie, still obediently following his instructions, and yet inclined to make light of the whole thing, and himself arrived at the gates of the park; Anneli, as formerly, being somewhat behind.  Receiving no intimation from her, they crossed the road to the corner of Great Stanhope Street.  But they had not proceeded far when Anneli said,

“Ah, Fraulein, the lady is gone!  You may look after her now.  See!”

That was enough for George Brand.  He had no difficulty in making out the dark figure that Anneli indicated; and he was in no great hurry, for he feared the stranger might discover that she was being followed.  But he breathed more freely when he had bidden good-bye to Natalie, and seen her set out for home.

He leisurely walked up Park Lane, keeping an eye from time to time on the figure in black, but not paying too strict attention, lest she should turn suddenly and observe him.  In this way he followed her up to Oxford Street; and there, in the more crowded thoroughfare, he lessened the distance between them considerably.  He also watched more closely now, and with a strange interest.  From the graceful carriage, the beautiful figure, he was almost convinced that that, indeed, was Natalie’s mother; and he began to wonder what he would say to her—­how he would justify his interference.

The stranger stopped at a door next a shop in the Edgware Road; knocked, waited, and was admitted.  Then the door was shut again.

It was obviously a private lodging-house.  He took a half-crown in his hand to bribe the maid-servant, and walked boldly up to the door and knocked.  It was not a maid-servant who answered, however; it was a man who looked something like an English butler, and yet there was a foreign touch about his dress—­probably, Brand thought, the landlord.  Brand pulled out a card-case, and pretended to have some difficulty in getting a card from it.