came when the detective was recalled to London and heartily
chaffed for his failure; but his own unusual disappointment
disarmed the amusement at his expense. The case had presented such
few apparent difficulties that Brendon's complete unsuccess
astonished his chief. He was content, however, to believe Mark's own
conviction: that Robert Redmayne had never left England but
destroyed himself--probably soon after the dispatch of his letter to
Bendigo from Plymouth.

Much demanded attention and Brendon was soon devoting himself to a
diamond robbery in the Midlands. Months passed, the body of Michael
Pendean had not been recovered, and the little world of Scotland
Yard pigeon-holed the mystery, while the larger world forgot all
about it.

Meantime, with a sense of secret relief, Mark Brendon prepared to
face what had sprung out of these incidents, while permitting the
events themselves to pass from his present interests. There remained
Jenny Pendean and his mind was deeply preoccupied with her. Indeed,
apart from the daily toll of work, she filled it to the exclusion of
every other personal consideration. He longed unspeakably to see her
again, for though he had corresponded during the progress of his
inquiries and kept her closely informed of everything that he was
doing, the excuse for these communications no longer existed. She
had acknowledged every letter, but her replies were brief and she
had given him no information concerning herself, or her future
intentions, though he had asked her to do so. One item of
information only had she vouchsafed and he learned that she was
finishing the bungalow to her husband's original plan and then
seeking a possible customer to take over her lease. She wrote:

"I cannot see Dartmoor again, for it means my happiest as well
as my most unhappy hours. I shall never be so happy again and,
I hope, never suffer so unspeakably as I have during the recent
past."

He turned over this sentence many times and considered the weight of
every word. He concluded from it that Jenny Pendean, while aware
that her greatest joys were gone forever, yet looked forward to a
time when her present desolation might give place to a truer
tranquility and content.

The fact that this should be so, however, astonished Brendon. He
judged her words were perhaps ill chosen and that she implied a
swifter return to peace than in reality would occur. He had guessed
that a year at least, inst