"Oh, a little money soon makes that sort of person speak," sneered the gardener. "However, I had no difficulty in learning where Mr. Monk was stopping in New York. I had plenty of cash, with my aunt's legacy and my own income, to say nothing of the sale of the corner shop lease to Giles, so I determined to follow. I reached New York in due course, and compelled Mr. Monk to take me as his secretary, so that I could keep him under my eye." Monk groaned. "I have had a cruel time with you; a cruel time." "Better than you deserve. I swear," added Striver, turning again to me, "that I never believed Mr. Monk to be guilty until I found the eye." "What?" I sprang to my feet in sheer astonishment. "You found the eye?" Monk, changing alternately from white to red with nervous fear, would have burst out into emphatic denial, but Striver cast such a black look in his direction that the words died on his lips. Then the gardener took out of his pocket a small morocco case, such as jewellers use to enclose watches, and passed it along to me. I opened it silently, and there, on the puffy white silk, lay a glass eye. "I found that," said Striver slowly, "while searching the luggage of Mr. Monk." "You had no right to search my luggage," whimpered Monk, "it was most unfair." "Unfair be hanged! You were so certain that Miss Gertrude was innocent, and talked so much about defending her with your life that I began to suspect you of the deed. I hunted, when you were out, amongst your luggage and papers for some proof of your guilt. I found my aunt's glass eye." "I never saw it before," cried Monk, rising in his excitement; "you placed it amongst my papers to incriminate me." "Mr. Vance," said Striver coldly, "look at the initials on the outside of that case. You will see they are Wentworth Marr's initials--W. M. They also stand for Walter Monk," ended Striver with a sneer, and when I glanced at the case I saw that he spoke the truth. "The case is mine, I admit," said Monk, trying to speak calmly, "it was in my dressing-case----" "Where I found it, containing the eye," put in Striver sharply. "You did not, you did not. The case was empty, as I was wearing the watch--this watch." Monk jerked a golden chronometer out of his waistcoat pocket. "The jeweller, whose address is inside the case, can prove that the watch was in it when he sold it to me." "I daresay," sneered Striver quietly, "but you wore the watch and placed the eye in the empty case. Yes, and with that eye you learned the secret of the whereabouts of Miss Gertrude's fifty thousand pounds, and you have been living on it under the name of Wentworth Marr. The story of your Australian legacy and Australian cousin is a mere invention." "I tell you I have spoken the truth. I deny everything." "Do you deny that you were in Mrs. Caldershaw's shop?" I asked, preventing Striver from speaking by a gesture. Monk stared and winced. "How do you know that?"