"Last night," went on Mrs. Fennel, after a pause, "when Flore had left me and I could only shiver in my bed, and not expect to sleep, I became calm enough to ask myself _why_ Lavinia should come back again, and what it is she wants. Can you think why, Mary?" "Not I," said Madame Carimon lightly. "I shall only believe she does come when she shows herself to me." "And I happened on the thought that, possibly, she may be wanting us to inquire into the true cause of her death. It might have been ascertained at the time, but for my stopping the action of the doctors, you know." "Ann, my dear, you should exercise a little common sense. I would ask you what end ascertaining it now would answer, to her, dead, or to you, living?" "It might be seen that she could have been cured, had we only known what the malady was." "But you did not know; the doctors did not know. It could only have been discovered, even at your showing, after her death, not in time to save her." "I wish Monsieur Dupuis had come more quickly on the Monday night!" sighed Nancy. "I am always wishing it. You can picture what it was, Mary--Lavinia lying in that dreadful agony and no doctor coming near her. Edwin was gone so long--so long! He could not wake up Monsieur Dupuis. I think now that the bell was out of order." "Why do you think that now? Captain Fennel must have known whether the bell answered to his summons, or not." "Well," returned Nancy, "this morning when Flore returned with the fish, she said I looked very ill. She had just seen Monsieur Dupuis in the Place Ronde, and she ran out again and brought him in----" "Did you mention to him this fancy of seeing Lavinia?" hastily interrupted Madame Carimon. "No, no; I don't talk of that to people. Only to you and Flore; and--yes--I did tell Mrs. Smith. I let Monsieur Dupuis think I was ill with grieving after Lavinia, and we talked a little about her. I said how I wished he could have been here sooner on the Monday night, and that my husband had rung several times before he could arouse him. Monsieur Dupuis said that was a mistake; he had got up and come as soon as he was called; he was not asleep at the time, and the bell had rung only once." "What an extraordinary thing!" exclaimed Mary Carimon. "I know your husband said he rang many times." "That's why I now think the bell must have been out of order; but I did not say so to Monsieur Dupuis," returned Nancy. "He is a kind old man, and it would grieve him: for of course we know doctors _ought_ to keep their door-bells in order." Madame Carimon rose in silence, but full of thought, and they continued their walk. It was low water in the harbour, but the sun was sparkling and playing on the waves out at sea. On the pier they found Rose and Anna Bosanquet; and in chatting with them Nancy's mood became more cheerful.