The night before he left England, Napier received his final sailing orders during a tête-à-tête dinner with Sir William at the club. The privacy of those last minutes was broken in upon by Tommy Durrant, hot-foot on Sir William's traces. Tommy was just back from the Front. Something ought to be done, according to Tommy, to lessen the ineffectiveness of the inspectors of refugees crossing over to England. He retailed the story then going the rounds about a man who spoke Walloon all right, arm bandaged, sling--all that sort of thing. Somebody on the boat didn't like the look of him, and had the wit to ask to see his wound. He was very sensitive about showing his wound. It was not unnatural, "doctor's orders," and that kind of thing. An R. A. M. C. man got the landing authorities to insist. Fearful shindy! Fella's arm as sound as Tommy's own. Didn't Sir William believe it? Very well, then. Not five hours ago, as Tommy was waiting to get through the barrier on this side, he had noticed a Belgian nun. He'd seen lots of nuns. Why should he have noticed this one? Couldn't make out till she turned her head with a backward look just as she disappeared. "And it was that woman who used to be at your house, Sir William; the governess."
Napier's heart failed him for one sick moment. To be leaving England at the very moment of Greta von Schwarzenberg's return! Tommy was asking Sir William why "a lady _like that_" should be coming back here in disguise. Surely there was something very fishy about it.
"Well, you say you've reported to Scotland Yard. Let them deal with it!" Sir William rattled his seals impatiently.
Poor Tommy was having no success at all with his news. It was plain that Sir William was more annoyed at being made a participant than at the fact itself. Napier couldn't refrain from warning him.
"She'll be trying to get into communication with Miss Ellis--with Madge."
Tommy, more considerate, soothed Sir William.
"She won't risk that, whatever's the explanation of her slinking back. She'll lay low for a while, anyway." Tommy registered his conviction, "She saw I'd recognized her, and didn't love me for it."
A good part of that last night in London, Napier spent in writing Nan a full account of the results of Singleton's visit to Lamborough. He wound up by warning her that Greta was in London, disguised as a Belgian refugee. Moreover, Scotland Yard would have full and accurate knowledge of those with whom the woman held any, even the slightest and most innocent, communication.