The afternoon papers were out, and the contents sheets were posted against the bookstalls.
One of the lines caught Marston’s eye, and he closed the window as though he had been shot, and sat back in the carriage trembling violently.
This was the line:—‘The great Gold Robbery—A Clue to the Thieves,’
CHAPTER LI.
EXIT EDWARD MARSTON.
Marston and Ruth were back from their honeymoon. They had enjoyed a month of almost unclouded happiness. The only trouble Ruth had was the discovery she had made that her husband was subject to occasional fits of despondency and abstraction.
Sometimes she would speak to him and he would not answer her. His thoughts were far away. She asked him, half-banteringly, once if he had anything very dreadful on his mind, that he looked so solemn.
He flushed scarlet, and then laughed.
‘No, little woman,’ he said; ‘I’ve got nothing on my mind, except the responsibility of being a married man.’
He stopped all further questioning with a kiss, and exercised more control over himself in the future. He took care not to drop the mask again in his wife’s presence.
The line on the news paper contents bills which had alarmed him so seriously on his wedding-day had been nothing after all. One of those rumours which are industriously circulated from time to time had been magnified into importance, and when he had the courage to read the paragraph he found that it was merely some drunken fellow who had gone to the police-station and pretended to be concerned in the affair.