The utter unsuspiciousness of Lilia’s cousin cut him to the quick. Yet, what was he to do? As he opened the door of the bedroom, he consoled himself by thinking how lightly Captain Pym had but a few minutes previously spoken of death. Turning to hold open the door of the darkened room, he saw Roderick pause—his expression change. He looked sternly, distrustfully, at Hugh. “What does this mean?” he said, entering and glancing from the bed, where a still, straight figure was visible under a sheet, to Paull. “The man, whoever he may be, is dead, and you must have known it.” “I did know it,” said Hugh, calmly drawing up the blind of the window nearest the bed. “Do you take me for a coward, then?” sneered Roderick. “I will answer your questions presently,” said Hugh, watching Captain Pym closely, and throwing back the sheet to disclose the waxen, lovely face of the girl. There was a calm about the large sunken eyelids, with their dark lashes blackly defined against the ivory cheek—about the pale forehead, surrounded by a glossy wreath of black plaits—about the arms, crossed upon her breast over sprays of white lilies; and upon the closely-shut, beautiful dead lips was the set, strange smile that seems to express: “Fear not—none can harm me, now.” For one instant, Roderick swerved. He could not be said to shudder, or to start—he swerved, as if he had made a false step. Then, visibly paler, but perfectly composed, he leant forward, his arms upon the brass rail. “You—recognize her?” asked Hugh. Either this young man was the most accomplished and hardened hypocrite—or he was not the villain of the story. He felt puzzled. “I—do,” said Roderick, straightening himself and looking Hugh full in the face. “But—excuse me—I cannot understand why it should have fallen upon me to identify her. Where are her friends?” “The only person connected with her whose name we have—is yours, Captain Pym.” Roderick shrugged his shoulders. “It is a mystery,” he said. “I knew her brother and her sister. I knew her—also—slightly.” Evidently he began to feel that this was a verbal duel. He spoke cautiously, choosing his words, and he kept his eyes fixed upon Hugh. “Slightly?” asked Hugh, doubtfully. “Perhaps you will be so good as to explain?” “You will be so good as to explain first, if you please, Mr. Paull. I cannot tell what this lady may have led you to understand. She was, as far as I can judge, impulsive and imaginative to a degree.” “Do not asperse the dead, Captain Pym,” said Hugh, contemptuously. “A corpse is but a poor shield for a man’s conduct. To shorten matters, let me tell you that this young lady has told me—all.”