"When he came grumbling to me that Mab had refused him." "He asked her to marry him?" I exclaimed. [********************216] Cannington nodded. "Dicky got so mad with the way in which Aunt Lucy talked that evening you were there, and with the way in which Marr seemed to be so sure of his ground, that he proposed the next day. Mab refused him at once, as he seemed to think he only to ask and to have. I told him it served him jolly well right, and that I admired Mab's spirit." "So do I," was my hearty reply, "but I don't think Weston meant his offer to be taken in that light. He's a absent-minded man and--" "Oh, hang it! a refusal will do him good," said Cannington crossly, "and perhaps he'll drop being such an ass. Of course he wants me to persuade Mab, but I told him I wouldn't lift a finger. Well, then, Vance, you see that Mab has lost both her lovers at once. Marr has sheered off--like his impudence, although I'm glad--and Dicky has been sent away with a flea in his ear, and serve him jolly well right." "And how is Mabel?" "As jolly as a sandboy, bless her, in spite of Aunt Lucy's nagging. I have asked her to come down to Murchester for a week. She can take rooms at the Lion Hotel, and collar some old woman as a chaperon. Then we can have a good time together. Come down also." "No, boy. I must return to Burwain to-morrow." "And when am I to be asked down to see Miss Monk?" "Very shortly, as soon as I have her father's consent." "Oh, she has a father?" "Yes, but no mother. By the way," I said swiftly, to avert further questions, "you didn't give me your opinion of the case I put to you." "I don't know what sort of opinion to give," said Cannington testily; "the best thing to be done is to find out who it was entered the shop when Miss Monk went away. I can think of nothing else." Cannington's opinion was mine also. But if Gertrude refused to speak I did not see what I could do. Besides, she was anxious for me to abandon the case. I felt inclined to do so myself, much as the mystery piqued me. However, I ceased to discuss it with Cannington--who really took very little interest in intricacies--and we spent the evening at theatre. Next day I furbished up the Rippler and departed at top speed for Burwain. I flew, so to speak, on the wings of love, as I was desperately anxious to reach the side of my darling. It was a wet day and the roads were in a very bad condition. Nevertheless I broke every rule with regard to speed and defied the police traps. I broke through three, I know, and managed to escape having the number of my car taken. By the time I reached Burwain I had accumulated a tidy sum in fines. I did not care. I would have paid three times as much to reach Gertrude. But the fun of it was that, owing to my desperate haste, there was no chance of my being made to pay the money, as I had flown past with the speed of a kingfisher. "More haste, less speed" was not a true proverb in this instance.