That is to say, on the night of the third
of March?" said Mr. Simpson.

"Yes, on the night of the third of March,
Lady Tallis had been very ill, and had
suffered from difficulty of breathing. It had
been found necessary for some one to sit
up with her. That had happened once or
twice before. But on this occasion she
seemed so ill that neither my mother nor
Miss Desmond went to bed at all. In the
morning, quite early, Lady Tallis fell asleep.
And then my mother sent Miss Desmond
to rest. She — my mother—went down
into the kitchen to prepare some beef tea,
for which the sick woman had asked. The
little servant maid was busy about her
household tasks. I had made up my mind
not to go to business that morning, and as
it was desirable that some one should be
within call of Lady Tallis, I took a book
and sat in the drawing-room, which opened
by a folding door from her bedroom."

"This was at what hour?" asked Mr.
Simpson.

"I cannot say with accuracy. But
certainly between seven and eight o'clock.
During the first part of the time that I sat
there, my mother came up-stairs with the
beef tea, and found Lady Tallis still sleeping.
She seemed so peaceful and tranquil
that I persuaded my mother, who was
much worn out, to take some rest on the
sofa in our little parlour down-stairs,
saying that I would remain at my post.
Well, I sat there a long time—or what
seemed a long time. The house was very
quiet: and at that period of the day our
street is not noisy. There was scarcely a
sound to be heard. All at once, as I
sat alone in the silence, a strange feeling
came over me that I must go into the next
room and look at the sleeper. I could
not tell why then, and I cannot tell why
now, but the impulse was irresistible. I
got up softly, and went to the bedside.
And then in an instant I saw that there
was death. I had never seen a dead person
before, but there was no mistaking that
solemn look.

"No mistaking!" echoed Mr. Lovegrove.
"How can you know that? Your
impression, the mere result of your looking
at her, may have been erroneous. She
may have been still asleep."

"She was in that sleep that awaits us
all, and from which there is no awaking.
I stood and contemplated her face for a
minute or so. The eyes were shut, the
forehead placid; she had not even moved
on her pillow. Although I was perfectly
convinced that she was dead, I took a little
hand-mirror from the toilet-table, and held
it to her lips. There was not a breath."

"Still," said Mr. Lovegrove, catching a
glance that was exchanged between Mr.
Lane and Mr. Simpson, " still, you do not
know at what hour this took place. Your
guessing is of no use!"

"Wait. It is true I do not know exactly
the moment at which Lady Tallis ceased to
live; but I know what will suffice, as you
will see. I knew that the first thing to be
done was to get some one to render the last
services to the dead. There was a woman
living near at hand, who had occasionally
come in to help to nurse our poor friend,
and I knew that she would be able to do
what was needed. I resolved to go myself,
and fetch her without disturbing my mother
or Maud. I went out of the front door
quietly, sought for, and found the woman I
spoke of, and brought her back to our
house before any one there knew that I had
left it. And as I turned into our street to
come home, the church clocks were striking
half-past nine."

"That," said Mr. Simpson, rising from
his chair, " is conclusive. I have evidence
to prove beyond a doubt that the ceremony
on board the ship was not commenced
before a quarter to ten at the earliest."

There was a dead pause.

Mr. Simpson deliberately gathered
together his papers. Mr. Lane took up his
hat. Mr. Lovegrove remained in his chair
with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

"I presume," said Mr. Simpson, " that
you perceive how unassailably strong Mr.
Lockwood's testimony makes Lady Gale's
case? My client is, I assure you, greatly
averse to litigation, very greatly averse to
it. But if Mr. Lockwood is prepared — as
no doubt he is — to repeat upon oath every
detail he has just given us, I should advise
Lady Gale, and the next of kin, to resist to
the uttermost all attempt to carry out the
provisions of Sir John's last will and testament.
I wish you a good morning, gentlemen."

"Good morning, Mr. Simpson. I beg
to state that if Miss Desmond were my
client and I were empowered to act for her,
I should be very far, indeed, from considering
the cause lost. I am not aware what
course Miss Desmond will be advised to
take, but I would take the liberty to warn
you not to be sure of victory even now.
And good morning to you, Mr. Lane,"
added Lovegrove, with a considerable
change from the temperate and courteous