"I am afraid," he said in a low voice to Andrieff, "that we can do nothing for her. It is a bad business. Heaven forgive her for anything she has done amiss! She did her best to make amends." Then he drew Alexis out of the room and told him to fetch a lamp. When he had fetched the lamp Paul took it and began rapidly to examine round the ground floor of the rambling building. He was seeking for the court-yard into which Boris had fallen. At last they found it, and found, too, all that remained of Boris Ivanovitch. He was battered and crushed and bruised almost beyond recognition. Paul set his face and straightened the twisted and distorted body out. Then he straightened himself, and picking up the lamp led the way back into the house. By this time Natalie, though very pale and still shaken, was quite composed. Indeed, she was now more self-possessed than her brother. She was doing her utmost to quiet his still painful agitation. Paul looked into her face, and seeing how strong and resolute it was, felt no hesitation in speaking before her. "Sir," he said very quietly to Peter, "Boris is dead." Peter glanced at him quickly and then turned to his sister. "Thank heaven!" he cried. "Hush," said Natalie, gently, and taking her brother by the arm she pointed to Madame Estelle. Andrieff had done what he could, and the unhappy woman had, to some extent, come back to consciousness. She was indeed sufficiently alive to catch Paul's words. She brought her fast fading eyes down from the ceiling and searched his face. "Boris!" she muttered to herself: "Boris!" Paul drew near and knelt down by the couch. He took one of her hands, which was even then growing cold. "Boris?" she asked again in a voice scarcely above a whisper. Paul put his mouth down to her ear and said slowly, "He is dead." The shock of the news acted on the woman in a most extraordinary way. With a convulsive movement she suddenly gathered herself together and sat bolt upright on the couch. She would have fallen back again had not Paul caught her in his arms. The woman opened her mouth and made two or three efforts before she spoke again, and then she only breathed the word "Boris!" Paul's gaze wandered over the side-board. "See if you can find any brandy," he said to Andrieff, who instantly produced a decanter. Paul took the glass from his hand and pressed it to Madame Estelle's lips. She revived a little, and suddenly spoke clearly and in almost her normal voice. "Sir Paul," she said, "forgive!" Then her eyes became fixed and staring, and it was Paul who drew the dead woman's eyelids down. "Sir Paul," said Peter, earnestly, "it is simply impossible that I shall ever be able to repay you the great service you have rendered me. But, believe me, if there is anything in the world it is within my power to give you, you have but to ask to receive it."