I handed it to Nessa, who dismissed it with, "Serves him right," and then drew attention to some little marks and dots scattered about the same page. "I'm sure they mean something," she declared.
I laughed at the idea and chipped her about it.
But she was right and puzzled over them until she found it out. The marks were microscopic numbers under various words and letters, and when she had written them down she read out the result.
"You did not deceive me. You are the image of my dear old friend, your father. Von G."
The von Gratzen riddle was solved at last.
And didn't Nessa chortle. "What did I tell you, Jack!" she cried, flourishing the paper triumphantly. "The old fox! He knew you all the time and you imagined you were so clever. Poor Jack!"
I couldn't stand this, of course; so I punished her.
We were still very much lovers, and you can perhaps guess the nature of the punishment when I tell you that it made her blush, disarranged her hair, and prompted the question whether I wished every one to think we were still honeymooning.
Of course I said yes, and punished her again.
THE END.