"Here's old Denton," cried Doctor Lawrence, seizing the decanter and a fresh glass. "Come, old lady: a glass of James Harrington's port. Drink every drop to the health of the happy pair." The old lady slowly and tearfully drained, her glass, and then tried to kiss Gertrude's hand, but it was hastily withdrawn, and the young wife's lips were proffered in its place. "Home, my darling," said George, when at last they were alone. "There is no mystery about The Mynns now. Do you know, I was sorely pressed to sell it by a speculative builder, and I hesitated, feeling that it would be as well, for that you would have a repugnance to the place." "Oh, George!" "Ah, I was right, then. My little wife has too much good sense to be set against it for that. The world is full of horrors." "Yes," said Gertrude, laying her head upon his breast; "and yet it is full of joys." THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's The Mynns' Mystery, by George Manville Fenn