Susan and Markworth were quite a study for the simple French couple with whom they abode. They thought “Madame” so beautiful and affectionate; and Monsieur, “Mon Dieu! un galant homme, and so handsome:—a rich Milor Anglais, no doubt.”

Thus a month had passed by; and Markworth thought that the time for him to act once more had arrived. His training had not been lost on Susan. Thanks to his indefatigable efforts she was now fully restored, and she would be the best witness he could have in court should he be forced to go to law in order to gain his rights to her money. He had indeed devoted himself to the girl’s cure especially for this object, but he had also been led on by a species of real zeal in the case. He had seen from the first how easily Susan, by proper influences, could be led to regain her mind, and had steadily persevered in that direction.

If anyone else had spent as much time and trouble on her long ago, Susan would never have required his aid, but she had been neglected, left alone in that old house; and Doctor Jolly, with all his cleverness as a medical practitioner, had not understood her case.

Markworth was proud of his triumph, apart from the consideration that his own well-being was interested in Susan’s recovery. He was proud that his hand had wrought the cure; and besides, he was really concerned about the girl on her own account. Her entire faith and confidence, and her blind worship, touched even him, while her love had made him have a friendly regard for her, which might or might not grow deeper.

There were one or two good points in his character, as is the case with all bad men. He was not brutal, or naturally bad hearted, but at the same time he was careful of his own interests. If he had got Susan’s money, for example, he would not then have turned her adrift. She loved him like a faithful dog, and it was not in his nature to kick a dog away. He was kind to her because it suited his purpose: it was necessary to her cure, and besides he had no reason to be otherwise.

At the end of a month, therefore, he determined to make some move.

He had seen an advertisement for the lost girl in the “Times,” which he had given directions to have sent over to him here. The advertisement had appeared a very few days after the date on which he had removed Susan from The Poplars, and had been continued repeatedly since; but that did not flurry him much. He knew he could not be traced, and as the had no feelings of compunction for the anxiety which might be occasioned by her disappearance, he determined to suit his own time when to make the news known of her safety and present condition.

He was certain that Clara Kingscott would not give any information about him, as she was a clever woman, and was obliged on her own account not to implicate herself in the abduction of the girl, and was besides anxious to get the remainder of the money he had promised her for aiding him; so he could afford to take his own time and play the game just as he chose, for the cards were in his hand.

He thus let a month run, and Susan being quite happy and settled down in their comfortable lodgings with the Mère Cliquelle in the Rue Montmartre, he thought he would go over to London for a couple of days or so, and set his plans to work. He also wanted more money, and that was a potent reason for taking him.

Susan was disturbed at first on learning that he was going away, but was as quickly consoled when he promised to be back very soon, and to bring her brother Tom with him; that was the only anxiety she had displayed on leaving her home. She had retained her love for her brother, and she feared he was angry at her leaving. She was delighted consequently to learn from Markworth, as he told her, that he was going to fetch him, for she was not yet aware of the great interests that hung at stake upon her.