I had a moment's private talk with the station-master at Timbercombe. Sir John had left his friends at the town, on the previous day. He and Zilla had met on the platform, waiting for the London train. She had followed him into the smoking-carriage. Just as the station-master was going to start the train, Sir John opened the door, with a strong expression of disgust, and took refuge in another carriage. She had tried the baronet as a last resource, and he had slipped through her fingers too. What did it matter to Zilla? She had plenty of time before her, and she belonged to the order of persons who never fail to make the most of her advantages. The other day I saw the announcement of her marriage to a great ironmaster, a man worth millions of money, with establishments to correspond. Bravo, Zilla! No need to look for your nobler motives with the naked eye.
A few days before I became a married man I was a guest at the dinner table of a bachelor friend, and I met Sir John. It would have been ridiculous to leave the room; I merely charged my host to keep my name concealed. I sat next to the baronet, and he doesn't know, to this day, who his 'very agreeable neighbour' was.
Instead of spending our honeymoon abroad, Cecilia and I went back to Long Fallas. We found the place delightful, even in the winter time.
Did I take the Devil's Spectacles back with me?
No.
Did I throw them away or smash them into small morsels?
Neither. I remembered what Septimus Notman had told me. The one way of getting rid of them was to give them to some other man.
And to what other man did I give them?
I had not forgotten what my rival had said of me in the shrubbery. I gave the Devil's Spectacles to Sir John.
VII BETWEEN THE READER AND THE EDITOR
Are we to have no satisfactory explanation of the supernatural element in the story? How did it come into the Editor's hands? Was there neither name or address on the manuscript?
There was an address, if you must know. But I decline to mention it.
Suppose I guess that the address was at a lunatic asylum? What would you say to that?
I should say I suspected you of being a critic, and I should have the honour of wishing you good morning.