The Red Room

Here she met the Professor, whom she had known when a girl at her home in Hampshire, and who had purposely sent her a note and seen her prior to conniving at the trick by which she was enticed abroad and kept apart from me. She had, in turn, been introduced to Sir Mark Edwards, who came to Vienna to purchase the secret of the new process, and had accompanied them one evening to the opera.

From Vienna my dear wife was induced to travel alone to Moscow, where for the past fortnight she had been awaiting news of me promised by the Professor, who had all along supplied her with funds. Three days before, however, she had received a telegram from Kirk, telling her that the charge against me was withdrawn, and that I had returned home. Then, of course, she had not lost an instant in returning to my side.

During my absence at Kirk’s house Gwen had been telling her sister the whole remarkable truth. Therefore, when my wife had concluded her story, her head fell upon my shoulder, and in tears she begged forgiveness for doubting me, a fault which, in those circumstances, I freely forgave – as you may quite well imagine.

Is there any need to say more?

Need I tell you that Mabel and myself stood beside the grave and watched the burial of poor Professor Greer at St. Peter’s, near Broadstairs?

Need I tell you, either, how, just a year later, Ethelwynn, who had inherited the great fortune accruing from her father’s discoveries, was married to Leonard Langton, both my wife and myself being honoured guests at the wedding?

Flynn has not been heard of since; but Antonio is still all-powerful at the pretty house Langton has taken in Hill Street, and on more than one occasion Mabel and I have been guests at the bright, breezy seaside house overlooking the Goodwins, beyond Broadstairs.

Leonard Langton and Ethelwynn are extremely happy. Yet I verily believe that Mabel and myself are even still happier, for I cannot help thinking that our enforced separation has rendered the joys of our lives the sweeter, and has proved our mutual trust and love.

Kershaw Kirk is still travelling hither and thither, ever active as secret agent of the British Government, and ever prone to ask the advice of his feathered pet.

As for myself, I still carry on my garage in Chiswick, a business which, I am glad to say, is rapidly extending, though I confess it very nearly came to ruin in those dark, breathless days when I was seeking a solution of the remarkable problem of “The Red Room.”

The End.