If I don’t see you again, thank you for your kindness, and don’t think too badly of your old friend. So Thomas had gone! With a curse he threw the letter into the fireplace and went back, accosting the postman as he descended from the upper floors of the apartments. “No, sir, there’s no other letter.” The man went through his bundle carefully. “There is another post at half-past nine. The country post doesn’t usually get into town in time for the first delivery.” Gilder slammed the door and went back to sulk in his room. By this time his servants were about. At nine o’clock they called him to breakfast, but a glance at the contents of the dishes did not tempt him. His newspapers were placed folded at his hand. He opened the first, and on the centre page a paragraph arrested his eye. STRANGE HAPPENING AT HAUNTED MANOR HOUSE By telephone, Chelfordbury, 2 A. M. There has been a tragic sequel to the appearance of the Black Abbot in the grounds of Fossaway Manor. At eleven o’clock last night, Mr. Richard Alford, hearing screams, ran out from the house and discovered the dead body of a man in the habit of a monk. He had been terribly injured, there being no less than nine wounds. The man has been identified as Thomas Luck, a former footman in the employ of the Earl of Chelford. Gilder uttered an exclamation and put down the paper. Thomas! His first thought was for himself. Suppose it were known that this man had been staying at his cottage, he would be dragged into the affair; inquiries would be made, and he would figure at a coroner’s inquest, if not in a murder trial. Cold-bloodedly he cursed the dead man for his folly. Gilder had no doubt in his mind what had occurred. Thomas had gone back to Fossaway Manor to get the remainder of the cash out of the box in Chelford’s room. And then--was Thomas the Black Abbot, after all? It was quite possible that he had used this disguise on other occasions, and he was in a position very favourable to such a masquerade. It was nine o’clock; the next editions would be out in an hour. He could, if he wished, have called up a tradesman he knew in Chelfordbury, but that would associate his name with the crime, and these villagers gossiped. For the time being, all thought of the expected letter went out of his mind. But as the tragedy became familiar to him, his thoughts came back to Leslie Gwyn. The country post would bring the letter, and he would act generously, munificently. There should be no higgling, no bargaining, no balancing of accounts to the last penny. Her word would be sufficient. Overnight he had written his letter, prepared the grand gesture which should break down the last barrier of mental resistance; and, with his knowledge of women, he did not doubt what form the reaction would take.