With the open verdict, the red bicycle case, as it was called, ended for the time being, as no new evidence was forthcoming likely to elucidate the problem. Wyke's assassin had suddenly emerged out of the mists to commit the crime, and had as suddenly vanished into them again. In spite of all efforts it was impossible for the police authorities to find him. Some society papers gave many details regarding the life of the dead baronet, but stated nothing of any moment. Sir Hector had a good income and a good position, apparently being a harmless old trifler, who idled luxuriously day after day. He had no relations, therefore the title became extinct, while the property--so said the newspapers--lapsed to the Crown. For a time the old dandy was missed in certain circles, but, as usual, was speedily forgotten. Even the hinted romance of Miss Lemby being engaged against her will to Wyke ceased to interest people, and the girl herself was very glad that this should be the case. At Hedgerton the sensation lasted longer. But when Mrs. Vence departed bag and baggage, when Sergeant Purse took his leave, and Lemby returned to London, the excitement gradually died away. Maranatha was again placed in the hands of old Pedder as caretaker, and again was advertised to let furnished. When Christmas was over and the New Year dawned, Oliver Lemby proposed to his daughter that they should return to the Antipodes. The buccaneer was now weary of the restraints of civilisation, and having failed to marry Claudia to a titled husband, desired to go back to his old free life. Father and daughter discussed the matter in the drawing-room of their Tenby Mansion flat, and quarrelled openly. This was scarcely to be wondered at, as Lemby had a violent temper, while Claudia was not the girl likely to submit to being bullied. The pirate was half annoyed and half pleased by her opposition. "You're a chip of the old block, my girl," he said, smoking furiously, "and can hold your dashed own with anyone; but you ain't going to hold it with me." "Oh, you'll listen to sense, dad," said Claudia, coolly. "That's so," Lemby assured her, in quite a dry American style; "but then you ain't talking sense. What's the use of staying longer in this worn-out country when you can't get a husband." "I've got a husband," declared the girl, equably. "I take your meaning. But the husband you've spotted ain't got no handle to his name. That Craver chap you mean, don't you? Not much. Rank and riches for you, Claudia, and if you don't hook them, back you go with me to the South Seas." "I won't," said Claudia, firmly. "Go yourself, dad, and leave me here."