too, as you see."

"You are not red. Your hair is a most wonderful auburn, if I may say
so."

She showed no appreciation of the compliment.

"It will soon be grey," she answered.

CHAPTER IX

A PIECE OF WEDDING CAKE

Albert Redmayne, holding it his duty to come to England, did so, and
Jenny met him at Dartmouth after his long journey.

He was a small, withered man with a big head, great, luminous eyes,
and a bald scalp. Such hair as yet remained to him was the true
Redmayne scarlet; but the nimbus that still adorned his naked skull
was streaked with silver and his thin, long beard was also grizzled.
He spoke in a gentle, kindly voice, with little Southern gestures.
He was clad in a great Italian cloak and a big, slouchy hat, which
between them, almost served to extinguish the bookworm.

"Oh, that Peter Ganns were here!" he sighed again and again, while
he thrust himself as near as possible to a great coal fire, and
Jenny told him every detail of the tragedy.

"They took the bloodhounds to the cave, Uncle Albert, and Mr.
Brendon himself watched them working, but nothing came of it. The
creatures leaped up the channel from the cave and were soon upon the
plateau where the long tunnel opens into the air; but there they
seemed to lose their bearings and there was no scent that attracted
them, either up to the summit of the cliffs, or down to the rocky
beach underneath. They ran about and bayed and presently returned
again down the tunnel to the cave. Mr. Brendon has no belief in the
value of bloodhounds for a case like this."

"Nothing further of--of--Robert?"

"Not a trace or sign of him. I'm sure that everything that the wit
of man can do has been done; and many clever local people, including
the County Commissioner and the highest authorities, have helped Mr.
Brendon; but not a glimpse of poor Uncle Robert has been seen and
there is nothing to show what happened to him after that terrible
night."

"Or to brother Bendigo, either, for that matter," murmured Mr.
Redmayne. "It is your poor husband's case over again--blood, alas,
but nought else!"

Jenny was haggard and worn. She devoted herself to the old man's
comfort and hoped that the journey would not do him any hurt.

Mr. Albert Redmayne slept well, but the morning found him very
depressed and melancholy. Things, dreadful enough at a distance,
seemed far worse now that he found himself in the theatre of their
occurrence. He maintained a long