“Oh, indeed,” said Brand, coldly; but the words made his heart tremble.

“Yes.  And if you would only go through the remaining degrees, you might take his place—­who knows?”

“Who knows, indeed?” said Brand.  “But I don’t covet the honor.”

There was something in his tone which made the other look up.

“I mean the responsibility,” he said, quickly.

“You see,” observed Reitzei, leaning back in his chair, “one must admit you are having rather hard lines.  Your work is invaluable to us—­Lind is most proud of it—­but it is tedious and difficult, eh?  Now if they were to give you something like the Syrian business—­”

“What is that?”

“Oh, only one of the many duties the Society has undertaken,” said Reitzei, carelessly.  “Not that I approve because the people are Christians; it is because they are numerically weak; and the Mahommedans treat them shamefully.  There is no one knows about it; no one to make a row about it; and the Government won’t let the poor wretches import arms to defend themselves.  Very well:  very well, messieurs!  But your Government allow the importation of guns for sport.  Ha! and then, if one can find money, and an ingenious English firm to make rifle-barrels to fit into the sporting-gun stock can you conceive any greater fun than smuggling these barrels into the country?  My dear fellow, it is glorious:  we could have five hundred volunteers!  But at the same time I say your work is more valuable to us.  No one but an Englishman could do it.  Every one knows of your success.”

Brand thanked Reitzei for his good opinion, and rather absently took up his hat and left.  Instinctively he made his way westward.  He was sure to see her, at a distance, taking this morning stroll of hers:  might he not guess something from her face as to what her reply would be?  She could not have written so soon; she would take time to consider; even a refusal would, he knew, be gently worded.

In any case, he would see her; and if her answer gave no hope, it would be the last time on which he would follow that graceful figure from afar with his eyes, and wonder to himself what the low and musical voice was saying to Anneli.  And as he walked on, he grew more and more downhearted.  It was a certainty that, out of all those friends of her father’s some one must have dreamed of possessing this beautiful prize for his own.

When, after not much waiting, he saw Natalie and Anneli cross into the Park, he had so reasoned himself into despair that he was not surprised—­at least he tried to convince himself that he was not surprised—­to perceive that the former was accompanied by a stranger, the little German maid-servant walking not quite with them, and yet not altogether behind them.  He could almost have expected this; and yet his eyes seemed hot, and he had some difficulty in trying to make out who this might be.  And at this great distance he could only gather that he was foreign in appearance, and that he wore a peaked cap in place of a hat.