"Not with regard to Gertrude. I was to tell her myself." "You never came back to tell her, but bolted to America. You never intended to return, and would not have done so had not Striver forced you to defend yourself. I can't say if you are guilty, or if he is guilty, but I am quite sure that one of you is guilty. However, you have money from your Australian cousin, Mr. Monk, a new name and a secretary who knows what a blackguard you are, so I wish you joy for the future. My advice to you is to go to America, and never return. Gertrude is done with you." This struck him to the heart. "My little child--my own child." "Exactly, and you deserve your fate entirely. Good-day and good-bye," and I walked out of the chamber and down the stairs. That was the last I ever saw of Mr. Walter Monk, alias Mr. Wentworth Marr. On the way back to Tarhaven, and in the train, I opened the case to again examine the famous glass eye. It was gone: the case was empty. CHAPTER XX. THE CIPHER Here was a discovery! Well might I talk about the disappearing eye, for it vanished every time it was found. It had disappeared out of Mrs. Caldershaw's head when she was murdered; it had disappeared from the drawing-room table, and now it had disappeared from the watch case of Mr. Walter Monk. And this final vanishing seemed to be the strangest of all. I could not understand how it had taken place since I was in the room and the closed case was on the table all the time. Striver could not have secured the eye, for I had held him in conversation. Then I remembered that Mr. Monk had been hunting the smoking-room for a magnifying glass in order to decipher the inscription. Engaged with the repentant gardener, I had paid very little attention to his movements, so it was probable that when my back was turned he had taken the opportunity to slip the incriminating eye into his pocket. Also I recalled the fact that he had handed me the closed case himself, recommending me to get a magnifying glass from a jeweller. Had I been clever enough to mistrust him--as I had every reason to--I should there and then have opened the case to see that the eye was safe. But I had not done so, and now, in the train, when Monk was out of reach, I discovered the loss. Of course I guessed that he had taken it, so as to obviate any accusation being brought against himself, and probably by this time he had got rid of it for ever. It was useless for me to do what I settled on the spur of the moment to do, and return by the next train to London from one of the intermediate stations. Monk would only lie, and I could not force him to surrender the eye--always presuming that he had not destroyed it--by threatening to tell the police. The fulfilment of such a threat meant danger to Gertrude, and he would simply laugh in my face. There was nothing for it but to continue my journey to Burwain and consult with Gertrude. If I placed the matter before her, she might see a way out of the dilemma.