“God bless my soul!” said Mr. Boughton, astonished out of his senses. “What has he to do with Mrs. Baines?” “You perhaps approved of his romantic marriage?” Mrs. North inquired politely. She was enjoying herself enormously. “His romantic marriage!” exclaimed the lawyer. “I know nothing about it. My dear madam, what do you mean? Is that scoundrel married?” “Most certainly he is married,” Mrs. North went on; “and, as far as I can gather particulars from Mrs. Baines, your charming niece is a dressmaker at Liphook.” “At Liphook!” exclaimed Mr. Boughton, more and more astonished; “why—why——” “Where she lives with her grandmother,” continued Mrs. North, in the most amiable voice. “Her mother, I understand, lets lodgings in the Gray’s Inn Road, and it was Mr. Wimple’s kind intention to pay the amount he owes her out of Mrs. Baines’s fortune.” “Good gracious!—that was the woman who came to me the other day. I never heard of such a thing in my life. How did he get hold of Mrs. Baines?” There was something so genuine in his bewilderment that Mrs. North began to believe in his honesty, but she was determined not to be taken in too easily. “The details are most exciting, and will be exceedingly edifying in a court of justice. Now may I inquire why you so particularly wish to see the old lady?” “I came to see her about the late Sir William Rammage,” Mr. Boughton said, finding it difficult to collect his scattered wits after Mrs. North’s information. “Is he really dead, then?” she asked politely. “Most certainly; he died on the fifth, and Mrs. Baines——” “She is much too ill to see anybody; and as I understand he burnt his will, and has not left her any money, it is hardly worth while to worry her with particulars of his unlamented death.” “Burnt his will? Yes, for some extraordinary reason he did—so Charles, the man-servant, tells me—he did it in her presence. He had no time to make another, for the agitation caused by her visit killed him.” “Or perhaps it was the mercy of Providence,” remarked Mrs. North. Mr. Boughton did not heed the remark, but asked— “May I inquire if you are in Mrs. Baines’s confidence?” “Entirely,” she answered decisively. “Then I may tell you that no former will has been found, and she is next-of-kin. There are no other relations at all, I believe, and she will therefore inherit about three times as much as if the burnt will had remained in existence.” “Really!”—and Mrs. North clapped her hands for joy. And then the tears came into her eyes. “Oh, but it is too late, for she is dying; nothing can save her; she is dying. I have telegraphed to her nephew and niece to come back from Monte Carlo. She has had a terrible shock, from which she will never recover; and besides that she has virtually starved herself and taken a hundred colds. She has not the strength of a fly left. I know she is dying,” Mrs. North added, with almost a sob. “Don’t you think that the good news I bring might save her life?”