. He asked a few
questions, they were straight and to the point, and to the point did
the specialist reply. His last words were:

"It is a question of time; but the end may come at any moment. There
never was any hope from the beginning. From the first it was a matter
of days and weeks, I did not know when I first saw your little
daughter that she could live even as long as she has done, but the
injury to the spine was low down, which doubtless accounts for this
fact."

Ogilvie bowed, offered a fee, which Sir Henry refused, and left the
house. Although he had just received the blow which he expected to
receive, he felt strangely quiet, his troublesome heart was not
troublesome any longer. There was no excitement whatever about him; he
had never felt so calm in all his life before. He knew well that, as
far as earthly success and earthly hope and earthly joy went, he was
coming to the end of the ways. He knew that he had strength for the
task which lay before him.

He went to the nearest telegraph office and sent three telegrams to
Lord Grayleigh. He pre-paid the answers of each, sending one to
Grayleigh's club, another to his house in town, and another to
Grayleigh Manor. The contents of each were identical.

"Wire immediately the next meeting of the directors of the
Lombard Deeps."

He gave as the address to which the reply was to be sent his own house
in Belgrave Square.

Having done this he paid a visit to his solicitor, Mr. Acland. Acland
did not know that he had come back, and was unfeignedly glad to see
him, but when he observed the expression on his friend's face, he
started and said:

"My dear fellow, you don't look the better for your trip; I am sorry
to see you so broken down."

"I have a good deal to try me," said Ogilvie; "please do not discuss
my looks. It does not matter whether I am ill or well. I have much to
do and must do my work quickly. You have heard, of course, about the
child?"

"Of her accident?" exclaimed Acland; "yes, her mother wrote to me some
time ago--she had a fall from her pony?"

"She had."

"Take a chair, won't you, Ogilvie?"

Ogilvie dropped into one. Acland looked at him and then said, slowly:

"I judged from Mrs. Ogilvie's note that there was nothing serious the
matter. I hope I am not mistaken."

"You are mistaken," replied Ogilvie; "but I cannot quite bear to
discuss this matter. Shall we enter at once on the real object of my
visit?"

"Certainly," sa