aped the precipice. Even yet she still trembled when
she remembered the all-engulfing pit of destruction that had opened
before her, and the anguish of fear that had possessed her until
deliverance had come. Lucas Errol had been her deliverer. She remembered
that also, and a faint, sad smile touched her lips--Lucas Errol, king
and cripple, ruler and weakling.

Softly the sunset faded. Anne's fingers ceased to roam over the keys. She
clasped them in her lap and sat still.

All at once a quiet voice spoke. "My lady!"

With a start she turned. "Dimsdale! How you startled me!"

"I beg your ladyship's pardon," the old man said.

He was standing close behind her. There was an air of subdued importance
about him. He was grave to severity.

But Anne did not look at him very critically. "I shall not want any
tea," she said. "I will dine at eight in my sitting-room as usual. Is
everything in readiness, Dimsdale? Is Sir Giles's room just as it
should be?"

"Yes, my lady."

Anne rose and quietly closed the piano. She wondered why Dimsdale
lingered, and after a moment it struck her that he had something to say.
She took up her gloves and turned round to him.

"No one has been, I suppose?"

"No one, my lady."

"Are there any letters?"

"No letters, my lady."

"Then--" Anne paused, and for the first time looked at the old servant
attentively. "Is anything the matter, Dimsdale?" she asked.

He hesitated, the fingers of one hand working a little, an unusual sign
of agitation with him.

With an effort at last he spoke. "Your ladyship instructed me to open any
telegram that might arrive."

Her heart gave a great throb of foreboding. "Certainly," she said. "Has
there been a telegram then?"

Dimsdale's hand clenched. He looked at her anxiously, rather piteously.

"My lady--" he said, and stopped.

Anne stood like a statue. She felt as if her vitality were suddenly
arrested, as if every pulse had ceased to beat.

"Please go on," she said in a whisper. "There has been a telegram. Either
give it to me, or--tell me what was in it."

Dimsdale made a jerky movement, as if pulling himself together. He put an
unsteady hand into his breast-pocket. "It came this afternoon, my lady,
about an hour ago. I am afraid it's bad news--very bad news. Yes, my
lady, I'm telling you, I'm telling you. I regret to say Sir Giles has
been took worse, took very sudden like, and--and--"

"He is dead," Anne said very clearly, very steadily,