"Not long will she stay after I am gone. The thread of her life is frail--very frail. She will make haste to follow me." A tap at the door was followed by the entrance of Marian. She paused with the open door in her hand. "I am looking for mamma," said the girl. "I can't find her anywhere. And Wally, who ought to have been back long ago, has not yet returned. What can have become of them?" "Shall I enlighten you? Yes? Well, then, at the present moment the pair of them may be found at the inn named Dun Cow, in the village of Overthwaite, a couple of miles away." "But, good gracious, papa, whatever are they doing there?" "Ah, that's a question you must not ask me, or, at any rate, one I must not answer. Perhaps I have divulged too much already. But shall I tell you what I should do in your place?" "If you please, papa." "I should ask Robert to drive me over in the pony chaise to the Dun Cow, and take the pair of them unawares. By so doing I fancy you will surprise them quite as much as they are plotting to surprise you." "That will be very jolly." "'Won't it?" "Are you aware, papa, that Mr. Draycot is pacing the entrance hall, waiting to see you?" "I shall be ready to see him in the course of a few minutes. By the way, you may as well give me your good night kiss before you go. I shall be engaged when you return, and shall not care to be disturbed." Marian flung her arms round his neck in impulsive fashion, and kissed him a number of times. Then he pressed her to his heart for a moment, and it seemed to her that she heard a whispered "Heaven bless you, my child!" She glanced up into his face with a momentary surprise, for he was not used to being demonstrative; but she read nothing there. The eyes that met hers were calm and shining, and on his features was the stamp of a great serenity. "You darling daddy!" exclaimed the girl, as she pulled his ear playfully. "You don't half know how much I love you." When she was gone and the door shut behind, her, he could hear her singing as she went. He stood without stirring till the sound had died away. Then a deep sigh welled up from his heart. "The last link is severed," he said, as he turned away. "Winslow will act a father's part by her till she marries. In years to come, when she has a husband and children of her own, all this will seem like a dream of old, unhappy, far off things. So, now to bid the world a long goodby!" Taking out of his pocket the vial given him by Roden Marsh some days before, he held it up to the light. But at this moment there came another knock. Replacing the vial in his pocket, he went to the door, opened it and disclosed Draycot. "I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Drelincourt," said the chief constable--"more sorry than I can say. But time is running on, and Mr. Ormsby's instructions were most imperative." "Five minutes, only five more minutes, Draycot, and then, my good fellow, you shall do with me as you will."