"You told her?" he cried, falling back a pace.
"Yes, I was forced to tell her, because Lady Mabel recognized your photograph in the drawing-room. I warned you that Lady Mabel was going down to Burwain to see Mr. Weston's airship."
"You had no right to tell; you promised, if I went away, to hold your tongue."
"So I did for a fortnight."
"Not with regard to Gertrude. I was to tell her myself."
"You never came back to tell her, but bolted to America. You never intended to return, and would not have done so had not Striver forced you to defend yourself. I can't say if you are guilty, or if he is guilty, but I am quite sure that one of you is guilty. However, you have money from your Australian cousin, Mr. Monk, a new name and a secretary who knows what a blackguard you are, so I wish you joy for the future. My advice to you is to go to America, and never return. Gertrude is done with you."
This struck him to the heart. "My little child--my own child."
"Exactly, and you deserve your fate entirely. Good-day and good-bye," and I walked out of the chamber and down the stairs. That was the last I ever saw of Mr. Walter Monk, alias Mr. Wentworth Marr.
On the way back to Tarhaven, and in the train, I opened the case to again examine the famous glass eye. It was gone: the case was empty.