When she had completely recovered from the shock of the belief that her loyal friend had murdered his wife, Mensmore one day told her the whole sad story. But he would allow no more weeping. "It is time," he said, "that the misery of this episode should cease. When the chief actor in the tragedy gave his life to end the suffering, we would but ill meet his wishes by allowing it to occupy our thoughts unduly in the future." Mensmore's marriage with Phyllis Browne was now definitely fixed for the following autumn, so he carried his sister off with him on a hasty trip to Wyoming in company with Corbett--a journey required for the protection and development of their joint interests in that State. Not only did their property turn out to be of great and lasting value, but during their absence the Springbok Mine began to boom. Even the cautious barrister one day found himself hesitating whether or not to sell at half over par, so excellent were the reports and so extensive the dividends from that auriferous locality. The two young people were married, a scion of the house had become a lusty two-year-old, Mr. White had become Chief Inspector, and Miss Marie le Marchant had, by strenuous effort, risen to the dignity of double crown posters as a "dashing comedienne"--when Bruce's memories of his lost friends were suddenly revived in an unexpected manner. Mr. Sydney H. Corbett came to him with measured questionings and brooding thought stamped on his brows. "It's like this," he said, when they were settled down to details, "I want to get married." "To whom?" inquired Claude, wondering at the savage tone in which the announcement was made. "To Mrs. Hillmer." "Oh!" "That's what everybody yells the moment I mention it. She screams 'Oh!' and runs off with tears in her eyes. Her brother says 'Oh!' and looks uncomfortable, but refuses to discuss the proposition. Now you say 'Oh!' and gaze at me like an owl at the bare statement. What the dickens does it all mean, I want to know? I'm not worrying about what happened years ago. Mrs. Hillmer is just the sort of woman I require as a wife, and I'll marry her yet if the whole British nation says 'Oh!' loud enough to be heard and answered by the U-nited States." "That's the proper sort of spirit in which to set about the business." "Yes, sir; but I can't get any forrarder. There's a kind of rock below water which holds me up every time I shoot the rapids. She likes me well enough, I know. She calls me 'Syd' as slick as butter, and I call her 'Gwen'; but there you are--if I want to go ahead a bit she pulls up and weeps. Now, why the--" "Steady, Mr. Corbett. Women weep for many reasons. Do you know her history?" "No, and I don't want to."