They drove off in the moonlight, in silence for a time, and then Foster said--
"What a charming girl is Miss Trevor."
"Oh, ho!" from Monteith: "so you've lost your heart?"
"And why not?" retorted Foster; "you are not the only person privileged to lose your heart."
"Well, I hope your course of true love will run smoother than mine," sighed Ronald.
"My dear old boy," said Foster, "yours will be all right. I've got a presentiment that we shall hear from Mrs. Verschoyle."
"Do you think she is guilty?" asked Ronald.
"I don't know, but whether or no, she'll not let this marriage take place."
"But she can't stop it."
"Can't she? she knows more, perhaps, than we think. How is it Vassalla's dagger was found in the dead man's breast?"