Rosa. She had resumed her self-control more quickly than I could. I was unable to answer her matter-of-fact remark. She rang the bell, and the maid entered with tea. The girl’s features struck me; they showed both wit and cunning.

“What splendid tea!” I said, when the refection was in progress. We had both found it convenient to shelter our feelings behind small talk. “I’d no idea you could get tea like this in Bruges.”

“You can’t,” Rosa smiled. “I never travel without my own brand. It is one of Yvette’s special cares not to forget it.”

“Your maid?”

“Yes.”

“She seems not quite the ordinary maid,”