ad gone by since, on that chill November evening, the news
of Lord Ingleby's death had reached Shenstone. The happenings of the
weeks which followed, now seemed vague and dreamlike to Myra, just a few
events standing out clearly from the dim blur of misery. She remembered
the reliable strength of the doctor; the unselfish devotion of Margaret
O'Mara; the unspeakable comfort of Jane's wholesome understanding
tenderness. Then the dreaded arrival of her mother; followed,
immediately, according to promise, by the protective advent of Georgina,
Duchess of Meldrum; after which, tragedy and comedy walked hand in hand;
and the silence of mourning was enlivened by the "Hoity-toity!" of the
duchess, and the indignant sniffs of Mrs. Coller-Cray.

Later on, details of Lord Ingleby's death came to hand, and his widow had
to learn that he had fallen--at the attempt upon Targai, it is true--but
the victim of an accident; losing his life, not at the hands of the
savage enemy, but through the unfortunate blunder of a comrade. Myra
never very clearly grasped the details:--a wall to be undermined; his own
patent and fearful explosive; the grim enthusiasm with which he insisted
upon placing it himself, arranging to have it fired by his patent
electrical plan. Then the mistaking of a signal; the fatal pressing of a
button five minutes too soon; an electric flash in the mine, a terrific
explosion, and instant death to the man whose skill and courage had made
the gap through which crowds of cheering British soldiers, bursting from
the silent darkness, dashed to expectant victory.

When full details reached the War Office, a Very Great Personage called
at her house in Park Lane personally to explain to Lady Ingleby the
necessity for the hushing up of some of these greatly-to-be-deplored
facts. The whole unfortunate occurrence had largely partaken of the
nature of an experiment. The explosive, the new method of signalling, the
portable electric plant--all these were being used by Lord Ingleby and
the young officers who assisted him, more or less experimentally and
unofficially. The man whose unfortunate mistake caused the accident had
an important career before him. His name must not be allowed to
transpire. It would be unfair that a future of great promise should be
blighted by what was an obvious accident. The few to whom the name was
known had been immediately pledged to secrecy. Of course it would be
confidentially given to Lady Ingleby if