But he spoke to no one in the village, and soon, in answer to inquiries by one or two of Sir Jeremiah’s faithful friends and cronies, the reply came regularly from Mr. Philip Baddock that the invalid was disinclined for company. Only Doctor Thorne, the local practitioner, saw the patient. Sir Jeremiah, it was understood, was slowly sinking towards the grave; but his mind was quite clear, even if his temper was abnormal. One day Mr. Philip Baddock made inquiries in the village for a good chauffeur. George Taylor presented himself, and was at once told off to drive the car as quickly as possible to Carlisle, to the office of Mr. Steadman, solicitor, and to bring that gentleman back to the Castle as soon as he could come. The distance from Appledore to Carlisle is over fifty miles. It was seven o’clock in the evening before George Taylor was back, bringing Mr. Steadman with him. The solicitor was received at the Castle door by old Bradley, and at Sir Jeremiah’s door by Felkin, the new attendant, who showed him in. The interview between the invalid and Mr. Steadman lasted half an hour, after which the latter was driven back to Carlisle by George Taylor. That same evening a telegram was sent off by Mr. Philip Baddock to Captain de Mazareen in London, containing the few words: “Sir Jeremiah very ill. Come at once.” Twenty-four hours later Captain Hubert arrived at Appledore Castle--too late, however, to see his grandfather alive. Sir Jeremiah Baddock had died an hour before the arrival of his once so tenderly cherished grandson, and all hopes of a reconciliation had now been mercilessly annihilated by death. The end had come much more suddenly than Doctor Thorne had anticipated. He had seen the patient in the morning and thought that he might last some days. But when Sir Jeremiah had heard that Captain de Mazareen had been sent for he had worked himself into a state of such terrible agitation that the poor, overtaxed brain and heart finally gave way. 2 The events of those memorable days--in the early spring of 1904--are so graven on my memory that I can recount them as if they happened yesterday. I was maid to Lady Molly Robertson-Kirk at the time. Since then she has honoured me with her friendship. Directly after Captain Hubert’s first estrangement from his grandfather, she and I came down to Cumberland and lived very quietly at Kirk Hall, which, as you know, is but a stone’s throw from Appledore. Here Captain Hubert paid my dear lady several visits. She had irrevocably made up her mind that their engagement was to be indefinitely prolonged, for she had a vague hope that, sooner or later, Sir Jeremiah would relent towards the grandson whom he had loved so dearly. At any rate, there was a chance of it whilst the marriage had not actually taken place.