And marry her I did two months later. Owing to the terrible death of Miss Destiny the story of her crime was not made public. There was some talk of Lucinda being brought in as an accomplice after the fact, but as she apparently was a half-witted creature she was left alone. She confessed, however, that after committing the crime Miss Destiny had rejoined her, and then the two had driven later to Mootley to meet Striver--who Miss Destiny thought was a woman--driving my motor car. I have often wondered since at the extraordinary nerve displayed by Miss Destiny on that fatal evening. She arrived fresh from the commission of a brutal crime and played her part as a startled lady admirably. All the time we were talking in Giles' house she had the eye in her pocket and knew the whole truth of the affair. I was amazed at the strength of character displayed by the frail little creature. It was extraordinary that avarice should have driven her to so desperate a course. But having taken it, she had managed wonderfully. But for the unguessed-of presence of Striver in the house her wickedness would never have been discovered. She was buried in Tarhaven, in an unhonoured grave, and Gertrude and I strove to forget her and her crimes as speedily as possible.
Lucinda vanished when she found that the police intended to leave her alone, and I never learned what became of her. Striver also had disappeared, and we did not hear that he had been caught, although I believe Dredge made several attempts to find out his whereabouts, but without success. But of one person we did hear. That was Mr. Walter Monk, or as he still continued to call himself, Mr. Wentworth Marr.
On the night before my marriage to Gertrude I was with her at The Lodge, and Cannington, who had come down to be my best man, was also present. He was in great spirits, and had been much impressed by the story of Miss Destiny's wickedness, which I had told him in detail.
"Adventures are to the adventurous," said he gravely. "You certainly found a very good one, with a happy termination," and he glanced at Gertrude.
"It was strange," I remarked musingly, "that you should have made that quotation as being by Wentworth Marr."
"Yes. And at the time when we did not know who Wentworth Marr was."
"Don't speak of him," cried Gertrude with a shudder. "Oh, dear me, I never would have believed that my father would act so wickedly."
"Oh, I don't think he acted so very wickedly," said Cannington generously, and to set her at her ease; "he changed his name legally enough, and was a wealthy man, as we know. All he did was to suppress--for obvious reasons--the fact that he possessed so charming a daughter."
"Well, it doesn't matter now," I broke in impatiently, for every mention of her father brought sorrow to Gertrude's face. "Monk or Marr, or whatever he chooses to call himself, is over the seas, and won't come back. Gertrude to-morrow takes my name and my good fortune. Also Mabel is to marry Dicky in three months, so that ends everything."
"Except Dicky's desire to conquer the air," said Cannington, smiling. "He is awfully cut up over the failure of his last attempt. He wants to begin and build another vessel straight away. But Mab swears she will not marry him if he doesn't promise to leave airships alone for at least twelve months after she becomes his wife."