"All the fault of your doubtful housekeeping, my dear. One moment. I wish Mr. Vance to admire this beam to which I called his attention some time ago. See the device and lettering, Mr. Vance. An odd motto and an odd device. My ancestor chose both, and had the beam carved. A very fine piece of work." The beam, to which he so persistently drew my attention was a massive length of dark oak stretched across the ceiling immediately below the flat panels of black wood. In the powerful radiance of the two lamps I saw that an eagle was carved on the beam, and round him swarmed a cloud of winged insects. Beneath ran the motto in Gothic letters, and in Latin: _Aquila non capit muscas!_ "An eagle does not catch flies," translated Mr. Monk, with a shrewd glance in my direction. "A quaint saying for any man to choose. There is a story attached to it, I am certain. Perhaps Gertrude----" "I don't know of any story, father," she interrupted quickly, anticipating a long conversation in this vault-like room. "Do return to the drawing-room, or you will catch cold." This hint of possible danger to his precious person lured Mr. Monk away at once. I remained behind and extinguished the lamps for Gertrude, trying meanwhile to let her understand that I desired to resume our interrupted conversation. But she seemed to be absent-minded, and when we left the chill smoking-room, did not ask me to follow her father. I therefore assumed my overcoat and took my leave. At the last moment, Mr. Monk appeared with hospitable offers. "A glass of wine: a slice of cake: a cigarette?" said he, graciously. "Ah, you will have nothing. Very good. Let us say good-night," he shook my hand with a royal air, "remember while you are here to come and see us. I may be away, but my daughter will always be charmed to show you the house. So pleased to have met you: so very, very pleased." I finally tore myself from Mr. Monk's blandishments, and secured a friendly smile from Gertrude as I stepped out into the darkness. On the way back to the inn, through the unlighted village streets, I meditated on the position. Mr. Monk for his own selfish ends evidently desired me to find the criminal; less to avenge Mrs. Caldershaw than to secure the glass eye, which I believed to be the clue to the hiding-place of the fifty thousand pounds. If I could manage to be successful, it was probable that out of gratitude, he would permit me to marry his daughter. And Gertrude herself, judging from our interrupted conversation, was not averse to me. She was ready to take me for a friend, at all events, and from a friend to a lover is not a far remove; it only needed time and perseverance to accomplish.