rtly after came another medical man, who had been summoned at
the same time. Whilst waiting impatiently for the result of their
visits, Lashmar mused on the fact that May Tomalin certainly had not
taken her departure; it was not likely now that she would quit the
house; perhaps at this moment she was mistress of Rivenoak.

Fatigue compelled him at length to enter, and in the hall he saw
Constance. Involuntarily, she half turned from him, but he walked up to
her, and spoke in a low voice, asking what the doctors said. Constance
replied that she knew nothing.

"Are they still in the library?"

"No. Lady Ogram has been carried upstairs."

"Then I'll go in and wait."

He watched the clock for another half hour, then the door opened, and a
servant brought him information that Lady Ogram remained in the same
unconscious state.

"I will call this evening to make inquiry," said Lashmar, and thereupon
left the house.

Reaching his hotel at Hollingford, he ordered a meal and ate heartily.
Then he stepped over to the office of the _Express_, and made known to
Breakspeare the fact of Lady Ogram's illness; they discussed the
probabilities with much freedom, Breakspeare remarking how add it would
be if Lady Ogram so soon followed her old enemy. At about nine o'clock
in the evening, Dyce inquired at Rivenoak lodge: he learnt that there
was still no change whatever in the patient's condition; Dr. Baldwin
remained in the house. In spite of his anxious thoughts, Dyce slept
particularly well. Immediately after breakfast, he drove again to
Rivenoak, and had no sooner alighted from the cab than he saw that the
blinds were down at the lodge windows. Lady Ogram, he learnt, had died
between two and three o'clock.

He dismissed his vehicle, and walked along the roads skirting the wall
of the park. Now, indeed, was his life's critical moment. How long must
elapse before he could know the contents of Lady Ogram's will? In a
very short time he would have need of money; he had been disbursing
freely, and could not face the responsibilities of the election,
without assurance that his finances would soon be on a satisfactory
footing. He thought nervously of Constance Bride, more nervously still
of May Tomalin. Constance's position was doubtless secure; she would
enter upon the "trust" of which so much had been said; but what was her
state of mind with regard to _him_? Had not the consent to marry him
simply been forced from her? May, who wa