there is some misunderstanding between us. You talked just now of
dramatic surprises. I could show you one even beyond your powers of
imagination if I chose. What would you say if I told you that three years
ago I became the husband of that beautiful girl yonder, and that from
half-an-hour after the ceremony till the present moment I have never set
eyes on her again?"

"It seems almost incredible," Gurdon exclaimed.

"Yes, I suppose it does. But it is absolutely a fact all the same. I
can't tell you here the romance of my life. I couldn't do it in
surroundings like these. We will go on to your rooms presently, and then
I will make a clean breast of the whole thing to you. You may be disposed
to laugh at me for a sentimentalist, but I should like to stay here a
little longer, if it is only now and again to hear a word or two from her
lips. If you will push those flowers across between me and the light I
shall be quite secure from observation. I think that will do."

"But you don't mean to tell me," Gurdon murmured, "that the lady in
question is the daughter of that picturesque-looking old ruffian,
Mark Fenwick?"

"Of course, she isn't," Venner said, with great contempt. "What the
connection is between them, I cannot say. What strange fate links them
together is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. I do not like it,
but I let it pass, feeling so sure of Vera's innocence and integrity. But
the waiter will tell us. Here, waiter, is the lady dining over there with
Mr. Fenwick his daughter or not?"

"Certainly, sir," the waiter responded. "That is Miss Fenwick."