“If you don’t mind, sir, I will get back to town. I would sooner. I don’t think I can be of any further use.” He did not press me to remain, and I went back to town carrying messages for his managing clerk. I did not witness the meeting between Miss Gascoyne and himself, but it must have been quite satisfactory, for he stayed away over a week, and I learnt that Mrs. Gascoyne had joined them. I fancied that Miss Gascoyne would be rather surprised at the dignity and well-bred restraint of the tradesman’s daughter, and would find it a little difficult to account for her father’s prejudice; in fact, his objection could not fail to strike her as having something in it of unreasoning snobbery. I would have given a great deal to be at the inquest, but although there was no particular reason why I should not be, I thought Mr. Gascoyne might deem it a little officious. Neither did I go down to the funeral, but wrote a sympathetic note and sent a wreath. I let it fully appear that my reason for not going was diffidence, and a desire not to assume too intimate an attitude. The morning of Mr. Gascoyne’s return he called me into his office. “Close the door, Israel.” He motioned me to a chair. “Did you see any account of the inquest?” “No, sir; I have been waiting for you to tell me.” As a matter of fact, I had followed the case most carefully in the papers. “It appeared that there was a serious doubt as to how my nephew received his injuries.” “Really?” “Yes. In the first place, both doctors were a little surprised that they should have caused death at all. The whole case became quite complicated. There were distinct traces of blood on the horse’s hoof, and yet one of the doctors absolutely refused to admit that the injuries could have been inflicted by the horse at all.” “How very extraordinary!” “Did you at any time exchange confidences with my nephew on love affairs?” I swiftly reflected. Had he the least proof of our having done so? It would not do to give a direct answer. “I dare say we did, sir, but I cannot remember anything definite.” “Some letters were found in his pocket.” I almost started. How was it that it had never occurred to me to search young Gascoyne’s pockets? “Were they love-letters?” “Yes.” “It is not very unusual for a young fellow of his age.” “No, and I am afraid that what they contained is also not unusual. It appears that he had accomplished the ruin of a girl in a neighbouring village.” I looked thoughtful. “Do you mean to suggest that there is a mystery?” “I am afraid there is. I cannot help thinking that the doctor who refused to accept the theory of his having been killed by the horse was right.” “Why did they not call in a third doctor?” “They did, and he was evidently under the influence of the man who believed in the horse theory.” “What was the verdict?” I had forborne to satisfy myself on this point in order to be able to ask the question with easy unconcern. “Accidental death.”