had died before daybreak. Dr. Derwent himself did not appear
till about ten o'clock, when he arrived together with his niece. Olga
had been violently hysterical; it seemed the wisest thing to bring her
to Bryanston Square; the change of surroundings and Irene's sympathy
soon restored her to calm.

At midday a messenger brought Irene a letter from Arnold Jacks. Arnold
wrote that he had just heard of her aunt's death: that he was deeply
grieved, and hastened to condole with her. He did not come in person,
thinking she would prefer to let this sad day pass over before they
met, but he would call to-morrow morning. In the meantime, he would be
grateful for a line assuring him that she was well.

Having read this, Irene threw it aside as if it had been a tradesman's
circular. Not thus should he have written--if write he must instead of
coming. In her state of agitation after the hours spent with Olga, this
bald note of sympathy seemed almost an insult; to keep silence as to
the real cause of Mrs. Hannaford's death was much the same, she felt,
as hinting a doubt of the poor lady's innocence. Arnold Jacks was
altogether too decorous. Would it not have been natural for a man in
his position to utter at least an indignant word? It might have been as
allusive as his fine propriety demanded, but surely the word should
have been spoken!

After some delay, she replied in a telegram, merely saying that she was
quite well.

Olga, as soon as she felt able, had sat down to write a letter. She
begged her cousin to have it posted at once.

"It's to Mr. Otway," she said, in an unsteady voice. And, when the
letter had been despatched, she added, "It will be a great blow to him.
I had a letter last night asking for news--Oh, I meant to bring it!"
she exclaimed, with a momentary return of her distracted manner. "I
left it in my room. It will be lost-destroyed!"

Irene quieted her, promising that the letter should be kept safe.

"Perhaps he will call," Olga said presently. "But no, not so soon. He
may have written again. I must have the letter if there is one. Someone
must go over to the house this evening."

Through a great part of the afternoon, she slept, and whilst she was
sleeping there arrived for her a telegram, which, Irene did not doubt,
came from Piers Otway. It proved to be so, and Olga betrayed nervous
tremors after reading the message.

"I shall have a letter in the morning," she said to her cousin, several
times; and a