"He's going to New York on business," she said, handing me the letter; "now I wonder what his business can be, Cyrus. And why did he go away without coming down to tell me personally and say good-bye?" I read Mr. Monk's precise handwriting carefully. He had kept to my agreement with him, and had left the country. He would be away, he wrote to his daughter, for an indefinite period, and hoped to return a wealthy man. I guessed that such a mean creature would probably stay in America and marry there, leaving his daughter to look after herself. Luckily there was a postscript stating that if Gertrude wanted money she was to apply to a lawyer whose address was given. I handed back the letter with a shrug. Since Mr. Monk had departed there was no reason for me to say anything at all, although I had limited my silence to a fortnight. "I expect he's found some business which will make him rich, and has had to go off in a hurry. You can't miss him very much, Gertrude, darling, for he is never here." "No, that is true," she said thoughtfully, folding up the letter, "and since you have come into my life, Cyrus, I miss my father very little, still he might have come to say good-bye. I am afraid," she ended, sighing, "that papa is a little selfish." "Well, never mind. He'll return with wealth, as he says." "Do you think he will?" "I am sure of it," I replied, kissing her, for if Mr. Monk did appear in Burwain again, a contingency I could not be sure would take place, he would doubtless admit his possession of the Australian cousin's money to his daughter. Meanwhile, as I pointed out, he was gone, and Striver was gone, so all we had to do was to enjoy ourselves. "Then there's no danger of Joseph seeing the police?" I kissed her again. "No. Set your mind at rest!" And truly, when day after day went past and no news came I began to believe that Mr. Striver and his suggested revenge had passed away altogether. The murder of Mrs. Caldershaw--unless the gardener was guilty--still remained a mystery, but so long as Gertrude was not troubled I cared very little if it were never solved. September passed into October, and that damp month gave place to foggy November. I remained very comfortably lodged at the Robin Redbreast, and saw Gertrude every day. The lawyer sent her a weekly sum, so all was well financially, and for the rest, she no longer felt lonely, since she had my company to an unlimited extent. We motored a great deal, we sometimes visited the Tarhaven theatre, and we spent long evenings together over the piano, for Gertrude was a very good musician. If ever a man had an opportunity of knowing what kind of wife he was marrying, I was that lucky individual. Our wooing was odd and unconventional, to say the least of it, and I was known in Burwain village as "Miss Gerty's young man." Only Puddles acted as chaperon, although Miss Destiny sometimes assumed that office.