"The scoundrel!" cried Giles furiously.
Mrs. Wharton—as she now called herself—laughed coldly and rose to depart.
"I don't think it matters much now," she said. "Anne was not drowned also, was she?"
"No," replied Ware, shuddering; "she is in London, and I hope shortly to make her my wife."
"I wish her all happiness," said Mrs. Wharton, without emotion. "I always liked Anne, and for her sake I secured that confession.
That, when published, will vindicate her character.
You need have no hesitation in showing it to the police and in letting that detective deal with it as he thinks fit.
In a few days I shall be in France under the name of Mrs. Wharton, and the past will be dead to me.
Good-bye."
She held out her hand.
"Good-bye," answered Giles, shaking it heartily. "I trust you will be happy, Mrs. Wharton."
"I shall be at peace, if nothing else," she replied, and so passed from the room, and out of his life.
Giles showed the confession to Steel, who was delighted that the real culprit had at last been discovered.
But he was sorely disappointed at the suicide of Denham.
"It spoils the case," he said.
"You are going to bring the matter into court, then," said Giles.
"Of course.
I want some reward for my labor, Mr. Ware.
I'll break up that gang.
I must publish this confession in order to save your future wife from further blame.
Not that it will matter much," he added, "for Miss Denham—I should rather say Miss Franklin—has gone to Styria with her mother and half-sister."
"I know," answered Giles quietly. "I join them there in a week."
"Well, Mr. Ware, I congratulate you, and I hope you'll have a good time.
You deserve it from the way in which you have worked over this case."
"What about yourself, Steel?"
"Oh, I'm all right.
Dane, Morley, and Denham are dead, which is a pity, as they are the chief villains of the play.
Still, I'll contrive to punish those others and get some kudos out of the business.
And I must thank you, Mr. Ware, for that reward."
"It was Miss Anne's idea," replied Ware. "She will soon be put in possession of her money, and asked me to give you the reward.
It is half from her and half from me."
"And I believed her guilty," said Steel regretfully; "but I'll make amends, Mr. Ware.
I'll keep her name out of this business as much as I can, consistently with the evidence."
Steel was as good as his word.
The thieves were tried, but Anne was not mentioned in connection with their robberies.
As regards the murder, the confession of Morley was made public and every one knew that Anne was guiltless.
In fact, she was applauded for the way in which she had helped her supposed father to escape.
The papers called the whole episode romantic, but the papers never knew the entire truth, nor that Anne was the daughter of the Princess Karacsay.
Not even Mrs. Parry learned as much as she should have liked to learn.
But what scraps of information she did become possessed of, she wove into a thrilling story which fully maintained her reputation as a scandal-monger.
And she was always Anne's friend, being particularly triumphant over the fact that she had never believed her to be guilty.
"And I hope," said Mrs. Parry generally, "that every one will believe what I say in the future;" which every one afraid of her tongue pretended to do.
Giles and Anne were married from the castle of Prince Karacsay, in Styria.
The Prince took a great fancy to Anne Franklin, and learned the truth about her parentage.
But this was not made public. It was simply supposed that she was a young English lady who was the intimate friend of Princess Olga.
But every one was surprised when the elder Princess at the wedding threw over Anne's neck a magnificent necklace of uncut emerald.
"It belonged to your father's mother, dear," whispered the Princess as she kissed the bride.
Olga married Count Taroc, and settled down into the meekest of wives.
Giles and Anne heard of the marriage while on their honeymoon in Italy.
They had taken a villa at Sorrento and were seated out on the terrace when the letter came, Anne expressed herself glad.