I was having my fill of surprises by this time, and was beginning to wish that the matter should end. By the matter I mean this Mootley crime, the present cause of all these happenings. By stumbling on that fine adventure, I had become engaged to Gertrude, and, to keep Cannington from plundering my preserves, I had come to London. Here, at his aunt's house, I had met Gertrude's father masquerading as a millionaire. There was no use his denying this. His change of name may have been legal, and he may have acquired a competency by the death of his Australian cousin: but he certainly could not rank with the Park Lane fraternity. Yet Lady Denham believed him to be one, and he encouraged the idea. I took my leave of the smooth-faced little man with the resolve to keep my promise. So long as he abstained from calling on Lady Denham, and withdrew his pretentions to Lady Mabel's hand, there was no need for me to strip him of his peacock's feathers. There was no need even to tell Gertrude, as the revelation would not change her feelings towards me in any way. Certainly the ingenious Mr. Striver knew, and I wondered that he had not made use of his information before, to force Monk's hand. But Striver was a patient man and perhaps had waited until he had acquired his aunt's wealth before pressing his suit. Then, if Gertrude refused, he could threaten to tell her of Monk's secret doings, unless that gentleman exercised his parental authority so far as to insist upon the unequal marriage. But--and the reflection made me chuckle--they were both a day after the fair, for Gertrude had promised to be my wife and I was equal to Striver in the knowledge of which he hoped to make use. It was a poor lookout for the handsome Joseph, and, in spite of Monk's warning, I had no fears that the man could harm myself or my darling in any way. I remained a week in London, and enjoyed myself along with Cannington--that is, I went to the theatres, to various At Homes, to certain small dances, and to suppers, dinners, motor drives, and all the rest of it, including bridge drives, although I had no particular regard for that fashionable game. But my heart was far away with Gertrude, and I felt very much bored in spite of the boy's lively society. I think he noticed my abstracted condition at times, for he proposed that I should leave him and return to Burwain. I refused, since I had arranged to remain a week. I heard from Gertrude every day, and replied at length, so that somewhat ameliorated my desperate situation. Moreover, I wished to remain in London to see if Mr. Monk intended to keep his promise. One day--the last of my stay in town, as a matter of fact--Cannington turned up at my club with two pieces of news. He delivered both over a brandy and soda and a cigar.