"Such unnecessary trouble over a common woman," murmured Mr. Monk gracefully; "with a glass eye too--an incomplete woman. And so very ugly. Her one redeeming feature was that she could cook, though with my late brother she had small opportunity of exercising that great art. But let us change the subject, my child, lest horrid dreams should come to us all from contemplating the crimson theme of murder. You are staying here, Mr. Vance?" he asked, dropping his grandiloquent manner, and speaking alertly. "At The Robin Redbreast." "For some time?" I shrugged my shoulders. "It depends upon my fancy." "I should not think Burwain had many attractions for a young man," said Mr. Monk, still alert, and decidedly inquisitive. "Oh, I am not very young, sir, and after the turmoil of London, a change of scene to this restful place is agreeable." "Quite so, quite so," he nodded an assent, but his eyes behind the pince-nez were still watchful. "But after this Mootley tragedy I should have thought you would have sickened of the country. By the way," he stirred his coffee negligently, "is there any chance that the assassin will be found?" "I can't say; I mean to try," said I grimly, and wondered why Mr. Monk harped on the crimson theme he so much disliked. "_You_ meant to try," he stared and sat up quickly. "Why, may I ask?" "I have the vice of curiosity," was my answer. "And the circumstances of the case are so odd, that I wish to solve the mystery." "I don't see where the mystery comes into the matter, Mr. Vance, if you will pardon my having a contrary opinion to yourself. The woman who ran off with your motor car,--I remember what you had to do with the matter quite well now,--stabbed Anne with a hat-pin. Where is your mystery there?" "Dear papa," said Gertrude, who was perched on the arm of his chair, "don't talk about the matter, as I see it agitates you greatly." I glanced at her when she said this, as it struck me that if she was the woman who had taken my car, she naturally would not like the matter to be spoken about. But she appeared to be perfectly calm, and her color did not change when our eyes met. Mr. Monk was far more discomposed than she was. "My dear," he said in answer to her remonstrance, "I must steel myself to hear all about our old servant--at least about Gabriel's old servant. Where, I ask again, is the mystery?" "In the fact that Mrs. Caldershaw's glass eye was stolen," I asserted. "Well," admitted Mr. Monk reluctantly, "that is a strange article to steal I agree. Do you know why it was stolen, Mr. Vance?" "I have a theory." "What is your theory?" he pursued eagerly. "Your late brother left fifty thousand pounds to Miss Monk here," I explained, "and that money cannot be found. I believe that Mrs. Caldershaw in some way knew of the whereabouts of this fortune and indicated the hiding-place in some way by means of the glass eye. It was stolen by the person who desired to gain that fortune."