ere. Or so it seems to me.

After an hour or so of this walking Caliban approached them, and
bending humbly before Roger made it clear that he greatly desired
their presence at the cottage. They went after him, Margarita
incurious because she was utterly indifferent, Roger wasting no
energy, of course, with no facts to proceed upon. At the kitchen he
endeavoured to lead them up the narrow stair, and then Margarita asked
him if anything was wrong with Hester and if she had sent him.

He nodded his head violently and led her up the stair. In a few
moments she returned.

"Hester," she said composedly, "is dead."

"Dead?" Roger echoed in consternation, "are you certain?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, "she is cold, just like my father. She is
sitting in her chair. Her eyes are open and she is dead."

Roger stared thoughtfully ahead of him. He never doubted her for a
moment. It was always impossible to doubt Margarita.

"I wonder if Caliban will make my breakfast, now?" she added, with a
shadow of concern in her voice. "I think he puts more coffee in the
pot: I shall be glad of that."

"For heaven's sake," Roger cried sharply, "are you human, child? This
woman, if I understand you, has taken care of you from babyhood!"

"Of course," said Margarita, "but I do not like her and she does not
like me. She liked my father."

It may seem strange to you that Roger did not immediately ascend the
stair and confirm Margarita's report, but he did not. Instead he spoke
to Caliban.

"Is the woman dead?" he asked shortly.

The clumsy, slow-witted youth nodded his head and sobbed noisily, with
strange animal-like grunts and gulps.

"Has she been dead long, do you think?" Roger asked.

Caliban raised his hand and checked off the five fingers slowly. It
was understood that he indicated so many hours. He placed his hand
upon his heart, then shook his head from side to side. Suddenly he
shifted his features unbelievably and Roger gazed horrified upon a
very mask of death: there was no doubt as to what Caliban had seen.

This being so Roger thought a moment and then spoke.

"I am very sleepy, Margarita," he said, "and I don't care to walk back
to the village directly, since it would do no especial good. I think I
will take a little nap on the beach, if you don't mind, and then I'll
go to the village and get help to--to do the various things that must
be done. Later I will have a talk with you. Tell me once again--you do
not know of