wanted to send it back to Mrs. Schomberg. He said that it might be very
awkward for her if she were unable, if asked, to produce it. This had
given him, Heyst, much uneasiness. She was terrified of Schomberg.
Apparently she had reason to be.

Davidson had remarked that, too. Which did not prevent her, he pointed
out, from making a fool of him, in a way, for the sake of a stranger.

"Oh! You know!" said Heyst. "Yes, she helped me--us."

"She told me so. I had quite a talk with her," Davidson informed him.
"Fancy anyone having a talk with Mrs. Schomberg! If I were to tell the
fellows they wouldn't believe me. How did you get round her, Heyst?
How did you think of it? Why, she looks too stupid to understand human
speech and too scared to shoo a chicken away. Oh, the women, the women!
You don't know what there may be in the quietest of them."

"She was engaged in the task of defending her position in life," said
Heyst. "It's a very respectable task."

"Is that it? I had some idea it was that," confessed Davidson.

He then imparted to Heyst the story of the violent proceedings following
on the discovery of his flight. Heyst's polite attention to the tale
took on a sombre cast; but he manifested no surprise, and offered no
comment. When Davidson had finished he handed down the shawl into
the boat, and Davidson promised to do his best to return it to Mrs.
Schomberg in some secret fashion. Heyst expressed his thanks in a few
simple words, set off by his manner of finished courtesy. Davidson
prepared to depart. They were not looking at each other. Suddenly Heyst