Now that everything had been got out of Max Van Duren that could be got out of him, the motive that had induced Miriam Byrne to play the part she had played existed no longer; and although it was needful that appearances should still be kept up, there was no longer the same strain upon her. While keeping Van Duren at arm's length, and permitting no lover-like familiarities, on the ground that as yet he was only accepted on probation, it would not have been wise, having an eye to future eventualities, to repel him too rigidly, or to have run the risk of frightening him away. He must be so kept in hand that a little coaxing--a smile, a look, a whispered word--could always lure him to her side. He would fain have been twice as loving, twice as assiduous in his attentions, as Miriam would allow him to be. "Wait," she would say, "wait till I have made up my mind, and then----!" a look would finish the sentence, a look which seemed to say, "You know very well that I shall end by accepting you, and then I won't object to your kissing me, or perhaps to kissing you in return." That, at least, was Van Duren's interpretation of it. During the time that the advertisement was appearing every other day, Byrne seized the opportunity for obtaining a little rest and change. He and Miriam went back for a week to their old lodgings in Battersea, which they had not yet given up. Van Duren believed that they were going to the seaside, but could not discover the particular place for which they were bound. Miriam put the case to him playfully. "No, I shall not tell you where we are going," she said, with a smile, "because that would be merely offering you a premium to run down and spend the end of week with us. I am going to leave you for seven long days. You will not know where I am, and I shall not write to you. I am going to test you--I am going to see whether you will like me as well when I come back as you do now." "You should try me for seven years instead of seven days," said Van Duren, fervently. "Suppose I take you at your word, and stay away for seven years," said Miriam, with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "Like a knight of old, I should start in quest of you long before that time was at an end; I should search for you till I found you in your hidden bower, and then I should seize you, and carry you away with me, whether you liked it or no." "Yes, and while you were riding off with me as fast as you could go, I should be slily searching for a joint in your armour, and when I had found it, I should stab you to the heart with my silver bodkin. What a romance it would be!" "Especially for the poor fellow who was stabbed." "He would live in song and story ever after, and that would be far more fame than he would deserve."