Then, with a sense of relief, for, light as it was, the jewel-case had weighed upon him like a leaden thing, he went to the lake, slipped off his things and had his swim.
He felt better after it; more of a man, as the poor fool told himself.
There was nothing to connect him with the robbery, he had got rid of the jewel-case; it was well-nigh impossible that anyone should discover it; he could remove it when the fuss was over; indeed, perhaps there would be no need to deal with the jewels; the old man might be---- It was all very plausible; but he had forgotten to take into account that long arm of coincidence which so often upsets the plans of the most astute criminal.

And yet, in this case, the arm was not so very long.
For Derrick had acquired a habit of early rising during the experiences in South America; the circus people were always up soon after sunrise, and at the ranch most of the people were stirring at dawn, when the air was cool and fresh.

That morning, Derrick, who had slept soundly, as your happy lover should sleep, rose and, leaving the inn, had sauntered along the road until he came to the gate where Lady Gridborough had seen him and Celia.

Naturally enough, he passed into the wood; of course, taking the path on which he had walked with Celia.

He was thinking of her, thinking of the future, of the joy that awaited him, and in that clear, sunlit air, with the song of the birds in his ears, the difficulties with which he was beset seemed very light and unimportant.
The girl he had loved was going to be his; that thought was quite enough for such a morning.