sent on an errand by Miss Agnes; and I
met him coming out of his dentist's door--and, thank God, that's the
last I ever saw of him!'

Thanks to the nurse's quick temper and quaint way of expressing
herself, the object of Henry's inquiries was gained already! He
ventured on asking if she had noticed the situation of the house. She
had noticed, and still remembered the situation--did Master Henry
suppose she had lost the use of her senses, because she happened to be
nigh on eighty years old? The same day, he took the false teeth to the
dentist, and set all further doubt (if doubt had still been possible)
at rest for ever. The teeth had been made for the first Lord Montbarry.

Henry never revealed the existence of this last link in the chain of
discovery to any living creature, his brother Stephen included. He
carried his terrible secret with him to the grave.

There was one other event in the memorable past on which he preserved
the same compassionate silence. Little Mrs. Ferrari never knew that
her husband had been--not, as she supposed, the Countess's victim--but
the Countess's accomplice. She still believed that the late Lord
Montbarry had sent her the thousand-pound note, and still recoiled from
making use of a present which she persisted in declaring had 'the stain
of her husband's blood on it.' Agnes, with the widow's entire
approval, took the money to the Children's Hospital; and spent it in
adding to the number of the beds.

In the spring of the new year, the marriage took place. At the special
request of Agnes, the members of the family were the only persons
present at the ceremony. There was no wedding breakfast--and the
honeymoon was spent in the retirement of a cottage on the banks of the
Thames.

During the last few days of the residence of the newly married couple
by the riverside, Lady Montbarry's children were invited to enjoy a
day's play in the garden. The eldest girl overheard (and reported to
her mother) a little conjugal dialogue which touched on the topic of
The Haunted Hotel.

'Henry, I want you to give me a kiss.'

'There it is, my dear.'

'Now I am your wife, may I speak to you about something?'

'What is it?'

'Something that happened the day before we left Venice. You saw the
Countess, during the last hours of her life. Won't you tell me whether
she made any confession to you?'

'No conscious confession, Agnes--and therefore no confession that I
need distress you by repeating.'