Her young mistress called her back, and paused, with a little
hesitation.

"You may tell Elizabeth," said she, with an indifferent air, "that it is
possible--it is quite possible--it is at least possible--I may have two
friends to lunch with me; and she must send at once if she wants
anything more. And you could bring me back some fresh flowers, Anneli?"

"Why not, Fraulein?"

"Go quick, then, Anneli--fly like a roe--_durch Wald und auf der
Haide_!"

And so it came about that when George Brand was ushered into the scented
little drawing-room--so anxious to make the most of the invaluable
minutes--he found himself introduced first of all to Madame Potecki, a
voluble, energetic little Polish gentlewoman, whose husband had been
killed in the Warsaw disturbances of '61, and who now supported herself
in London by teaching music. She was eager to know all about the man
Kirski, and hoped that he was not wholly a maniac, and trusted that Mr.
Brand would see that her dear child--her adopted daughter, she might
say--was not terrified again by the madman.

"My dear madame," said Brand, "you must not imagine that it was from
terror that Miss Lind handed over the man to me--it was from kindness.
That is more natural to her than terror."

"Ah, I know the dear child has the courage of an army," said the little
old lady, tapping her adopted daughter on the shoulder with the fan.
"But she must take care of herself while her papa is away in America."