"But I never burnt the--the other one's letters. I always meant to, and I always didn't. It has been in my mind ever since I was ill to burn them. I never thought I should die like this. I put it off. The truth is, I could not bear to look at them, and remember how I'd--but I meant to do it. I knew when I came to myself at the foot of the stairs that I was dying, but I did not really mind--except for leaving Arthur, for he told me all our flat was burnt and everything in it, and I only grieved at leaving him. But this morning, when the place was cold enough for people to go up, Arthur told me--he thought it would please me--that my sitting-room, and part of the other rooms, were still standing with everything in them, and he heard that my picture was not even touched. It hangs over the Italian cabinet. But when I heard it I thought my heart would break, for the letters are in the Italian cabinet, and I knew that some day when I am gone--perhaps not for a long time, but some day--Arthur would open that cabinet--my business papers are in it, too--and would find the letters." Cuckoo's weak, metallic voice weakened yet more. "And he would see I had deceived him for years, and that Arty is not his child. Arthur was so pleased when Arty was born." There was an awful silence; the ice dripped in the pail. "I don't mind what happens to me," said Cuckoo, "or what hell I go to, if only Arthur might stay loving me when I'm gone, as he always has--from the very first." "What do you want me to do?" said Janet. "I want you to go up to the flat without being seen, and burn those letters. Try and go up by the main staircase. They may let you if you bluff them; I could do it;--and it may not be burnt out at the top as they say. If it really is burnt out, you must go up by the iron staircase. If they won't let you pass, bribe the policeman: you must go up all the same. The letters are in the lowest left-hand drawer of the Italian cabinet. The key--O my God! The key! Where is the key?" Cuckoo's mind, brought to bay, rose unflinching. "The key is on the pearl chain that I wear every day. But where is the chain? Let me think. I had it on. I know I had it on. I wear the pearls against my neck, under my gown. I was in my dressing-gown. Then I had it on. Look on the billiard-table." Janet looked. "Look on the mantelpiece. I saw the nurse put something down there which she took off me." Janet looked. "There is a miniature of Arty on a ribbon." "I had it in my hand when the alarm reached me. Look on me. Perhaps I have got it on still." Janet unfastened the neck of the dressing-gown, which, though lacerated by the nurse's scissors, still retained the semblance of a garment. After an interminable moment she drew out a pearl chain.