General Gamble could have solved the mystery, but he maintained a rigid silence. In his heart, the old schemer nurtured a fear that sooner or later Eddie would commit suicide or run away, either of which would signify the return of Martha to the mansion she had deserted for a cottage. And he knew that if she ever came back it would be as a permanent visitor. He encountered his son-in-law frequently at unexpected times and in unusual places, and was never without the feeling that the young man eyed him balefully. He could feel the intensity of that unwavering gaze for hours after meeting Eddie. It was an ardent, searching look that seemed to question his right to survive the day. After such meetings, the General was wont to survey himself long and fearsomely in the first mirror or show window that presented itself. He began to wonder if he was in failing health. At times he thought he discerned signs of approaching decrepitude, but his doctor assured him that he was never healthier or happier than he appeared to be at this particular period in his life. Still, he could not shake off the rather ghastly feeling that Eddie was secretly praying that his days were numbered. One day at the Club he complained of a severe pain in his back, and the very next day he was shocked to find his son-in-law dressed in sombre black with a strip of crape around his arm. Immediately on seeing the General in his usual state of health, Eddie solemnly removed the band from his sleeve and, carefully rolling it up, stuck it into his waistcoat pocket. "I'm saving it for a rainy day," said Eddie with a cold-blooded smile. "Good Heaven!" said the General, and at once felt the pain return to his back. "Have you seen Martha lately?" asked Eddie, tapping the bell on the table. "Oh, yes," said the General, settling a little deeper into his chair. "She is looking remarkably well." "Do you know what she weighs at present?" "Of course not. She took the scales over to your house. Besides, I don't care a hang." "Day before yesterday she weighed two hundred and ninety-eight pounds." His voice rose to a shrill screech. "It's a blamed outrage!" He dropped his chin into his hands and went on muttering vaguely, his eyes glued to the top button of the General's waistcoat. "By Jove, she IS doing well." "She can hardly walk. If she keeps on, she won't be able to see, either. Her eyes are almost lost. I screwed up the courage to take a long look at her to-day. She has lost her neck entirely and I haven't the remotest idea where her ears are." "I--I DO feel sorry for you, Eddie," cried the General, moved by unexpected compunction. Eddie rambled on. "Sometimes I sit down and actually watch her grow. You can notice, it if you look steadily for a given time." The two sat stiff and silent for many minutes. Eddie stole a sly glance at his companion's ruddy face. "You are a remarkably well preserved man, General," he ventured speculatively. "Would you mind telling me your age?"