and this stopped the
operations of the Chinese, who evidently knew of the existence of
the mine. This is all the information the experts employed by Sir
Arthur Deane will need. The facts are unquestionable.

"Assuming that I am alive, we will, of course, be co-partners in
the mine. If I am dead, I wish one-sixth share to be given to my
uncle, William Anstruther, Crossthwaite Manor, Northallerton,
Yorkshire, as a recompense for his kindness to me during my early
life. The remainder is to be yours absolutely.

"ROBERT ANSTRUTHER."

He read this remarkable document twice through to make sure that it
exactly recorded his sentiments. He even smiled sarcastically at the
endowment of the uncle who disinherited him. Then, satisfied with the
perusal, he tore out the two leaves covered by the letter and began to
devise a means of protecting it securely whilst in Iris's possession.

At that moment he looked up and saw her coming towards him across the
beach, brightly flushed after her bath, walking like a nymph clothed in
tattered garments. Perceiving that he was watching her, she waved her
hand and instinctively quickened her pace. Even now, when they were
thrown together by the exigencies of each hour, she disliked to be long
separated from him.

Instantly the scales fell from his mental vision. What! Distrust Iris!
Imagine for one second that riches or poverty, good repute or ill,
would affect that loyal heart when its virginal font was filled with
the love that once in her life comes to every true woman! Perish the
thought! What evil spirit had power to so blind his perception of all
that was strong and beautiful in her character. Brave, uncomplaining
Iris! Iris of the crystal soul! Iris, whose innocence and candor were
mirrored in her blue eyes and breathed through her dear lips! Here was
Othello acting as his own tempter, with not an Iago within a thousand
miles.

Laughing at his fantastic folly, Jenks tore the letter into little
pieces. It might have been wiser to throw the sheets into the embers of
the fire close at hand, but for the nonce he was overpowered by the
great awakening that had come to him, and he unconsciously murmured the
musical lines of Tennyson's "Maud":

"She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread.
My heart would hear her and beat
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a cen