d his hand at that kind of thing before? And now let me go
and see that father of yours. Did I bring my cheque-book, Mark?"

Mark gaily answered his father that he did, and together the two went up
the stairs. When they came down at length, there was an expression on
the face of Mr. Ventmore that showed that he was by no means displeased
with himself. Sir Charles was whistling an opera tune and was regarding
a cigar with an air of critical attention.

"Everything is settled," he said. "Those City people will be paid off
to-morrow, and I shall be free of them altogether. I shall never touch
business again, Beatrice; this has been a lesson to me. And if not a
rich man, I shall be very comfortably off. Whatever luxuries you may
need in the future will not have to be schemed for. My dear girl, will
you order a chicken and some salad and a pint of some good dry champagne
to be brought here? I'm particularly ravenous with hunger. Wonderful how
one's appetite comes back when you get your mind free from worry. And to
think of those concessions being of that value, after all. Ring the
bell, please."

The next day was a good one for the evening papers. Sir Charles was
interviewed till he was hot and angry and disposed to order his
tormentors out of the room. Scotland Yard had its own version of the
case, too, which was not quite in accordance with the real facts. But as
Berrington said, the excitement soon cooled down, and the next sensation
drove the recollection of Sir Charles's wonderful experience out of the
public mind. Sir Charles and his daughter went off to the country, so
as to escape so much attention, and Berrington and Mary Grey went along.
At the end of the week there was a wedding at the pretty church in the
village, and Mary was happy at last. Mark and Beatrice would have to
wait for six months or so, because there was public opinion to be
thought of, though as a matter of fact the thing was the most empty
form.

"I hope we shall be as happy as they are," Mark said as he and Beatrice
watched the train slowly glide into the darkness. "They have earned it,
too."

"I think we both have," Beatrice said. "But don't look backward,
especially on a day like this. Let us go into the big wood, and pick
daffodils."

And in the train Berrington had gathered his wife to his heart and
kissed her tenderly. He looked down into the soft eyes from which the
shadow had gone for ever.

"And you are happy at last, darling?" he