"Precisely what was intended and--hoped. It has done so. We know that. We have had the most curious and subtle enquiries from the Berlin authorities. They dared not openly accuse. We have replied. Our Foreign Office formulated the reply. They have been told that a murder was committed upon the Yorkshire coast--the murder of a German named Von Hertzwohl. It was committed by a rascally crew of Germans, headed by one, Von Berger, and assisted by another, Von Salzinger. These seem to have been the names they were known by, though the police think they were probably aliases. Unfortunately the gang got away in boats. However, the leaders came to an untimely end in the pursuit by the police. One shot himself--the one called Von Salzinger. The other, Von Berger, who seems to have been injured, tried to escape by going overboard from the boat in which he was endeavoring to get away. The Foreign Office has regretted that it can obtain no further information which might be of use to Berlin." "But it is a challenge," cried Vita in an awed voice. Ruxton's smile broadened. "So it was intended." He shook his head. "But it is a challenge they dare not take up. Furthermore, it should leave us in peace to complete the work your poor father has so well begun." Ruxton rose from his seat on the bed. He moved away, across to the leaded window, from which the sunbeam had long since passed. He gazed out across the leafless trees of the park towards the drab of the moorland beyond. He was not unaffected by his own story. He knew how much more it must mean to Vita. He waited. He was waiting for a summons which he felt would come in Vita's own good time. A few minutes passed and then it came. He turned about and smiled over at the sweet grey eyes which were so frankly appealing. There was a change, a great change in them. All the trouble seemed to have passed out of them. And the weary brain behind them seemed at last to have found that rest it so seriously needed. "Ruxton," she murmured. "Can you--can you ever forgive me for--what----" The man was at the bedside again. This time he was not sitting. He was leaning across it, and his arms were outstretched and thrust about her soft, warm body, where she leant against the cushions. His face was drawn up within a few inches of hers. His eyes were on a level with hers. They were smiling into the deeps of grey beauty before them. Nay, the tragedy of it, he was laughing into them. "Promising to marry Von Salzinger? If I had been in your place I shouldn't have promised. I'd have married him right off if it were to save me from being murdered." Then his laugh died out abruptly. "Don't think of it, my beautiful Vita. Don't ever let the thought of it enter your dear, dear head again. If ever a poor defenceless woman went through an earthly hell, you did. Sweetheart, it's my sole purpose in life now to endeavor to place you in an earthly heaven."