, waving an umbrella to the peril of other people speeding only less
frantically.

"Polly! I've got it!"

He could gasp no more; he seized her arm as if for support.

"How much is it?" she asked calmly.

"Five hundred and fifty pounds! _Hyjene_!"

"What--five hundred and fifty a year?"

Christopher stared at her.

"You don't understand. The missing word. I've got it this week. Cheque
for five hundred and fifty pounds! _Hyjene_!"

"_Reely_!"

"Look here--here's the cheque! _Hyjene_!"

Polly fingered the paper, studied the inscription. All the time she was
thinking that this sum of money would furnish a house in a style vastly
superior to that of Mrs. Nibby's. Mrs. Nibby would go black in the face
with envy, hatred, and malice. As she reflected Christopher talked,
drawing her to the least-frequented part of the huge roaring railway
station.

"Will you, Polly? Why don't you speak? Do, Polly, do!"

She all but spoke, would have done but for an ear-rending whistle from
an engine.

"I shall have a rise, too, Polly. I'm feeling my feet at Swettenham's.
Who knows what I may get to? Polly, I might--I might some day have a
big business of my own, and build a house at Eastbourne. It's all on
the cards, Polly. Others have done it before me. Swettenham began as a
clerk--he did. Think Polly, five hundred and fifty pounds!--_Hyjene_!"

She met his eye; she nodded.

"You _will_?"

"Don't mind if I do."

"Hooray! _Hyjene_ forever! Hooray-ay-ay!"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE TRAVELLER AT REST

Two or three days after this Gammon heard unexpectedly from Mrs.
Clover, who enclosed for his perusal a letter she had just received
from Polly Sparkes. What, she asked, could be the meaning of Polly's
reference to her deceased uncle? Was there never to be an end of
mysteries and miseries in relation to that unhappy man?

Turning to Polly's scrawl (which contrasted so strongly with Mrs.
Clover's neat, clear hand), Gammon discovered the passage which had
disturbed his correspondent. "You mustn't expect me to go into black
for your husband, for uncle I won't call him. I heard about him coming
to you for money and then taking his hook because detectives was after
him. A nice sort of man. It's a pity he had to be buried at the bottom
of the sea, where you can't put up a monniment to him, as I'm sure you
would like to do. So this is all I have to say, and I shall not trouble
you again."

Here was no puzzle for Gammon, who h