"Mabel is one of the few girls who can praise beauty in another. For that pretty speech she shall have the best wedding present I can procure."
"It may not be wanted," grunted Cannington.
I laughed and looked ahead at the pair quarreling in the moonlight. "On the contrary, I shall have to see to the matter at once," said I lightly.
On that night when I got back to the inn and retired to bed I thought long and deeply. Cannington's chance remark about Marr being in the neighborhood during the time the crime was committed convinced me that the man had been to Mootley. Gertrude had caught sight of him when she was in the back room, and had fled. For this reason she had declined to tell me the name of the mysterious person. And again, the presence of the glass eye on the drawing-room table was explained in a reasonable way. Monk had left it there, and apparently by chance, since, knowing, he would never have allowed such evidence of his guilt to remain there. How he had recovered it again I could not say, as he had been with me all the time until we re-entered the drawing-room together. It might be that Gertrude, in spite of her denial, had chanced on the eye, and, remembering her father's presence in the shop, had concealed it, thinking--and with good reason--that he was guilty. Even to me, under the circumstances, she would deny the truth, so I did not blame her overmuch. But I arranged in my own mind to see her the next day and learn for certain if she really believed her father to be guilty. On the grounds set forth he assuredly seemed to be.
But when the next day came, I did not call on Gertrude, for--as the saying goes--I had other fish to fry. At ten o'clock I received a telegram, asking me to be in London that afternoon at three o'clock. And the wire was from Mr. Walter Monk, or, as it was signed, Wentworth Marr. "Come up to my rooms at three to-day," ran the wording, "S. threatens. I want you to deal with him. WENTWORTH MARR."
There was a prepaid reply, so I sent an answer saying I would be in Stratford Street at the appointed time. Then I sat down to consider the meaning of the summons.
"'S. threatens.' That is, Striver is on the old man's trail. Humph! So Mr. Monk has returned from the States, where he had intended to remain. I daresay Striver followed him there and forced him to return. Now I wonder if Striver accuses Monk or Gertrude? That is the question. He may be threatening Monk with his daughter's disgrace so as to force him to get her to marry himself--Striver, that is. Or else he suspects Monk and can prove his guilt. Or else----" I stopped, and put the telegram into my pocket. "The crisis seems to be approaching," said I very prophetically. And I was right.
[CHAPTER XIX.]
A DANGEROUS POSITION
I could have seen Gertrude before leaving for London, but I did not think it wise to do so. She would certainly ask questions, and if, by chance, I let slip that my visit was to her father, trouble would ensue. When had he returned from America? Why had he returned from America? For what reason did he wish to see me? Where was the letter or telegram, which I had received? These questions Gertrude would assuredly ask, and if I answered them truthfully, she would probably insist upon coming with me. That would be impossible, as her presence would only complicate matters. And Heaven knows they were sufficiently complicated as it was.