And now there lay before me a duty which, in my present frame of mind, I confess I had no stomach for. Propriety demanded that I should look my last on the good friend who was gone, and I prepared to do so. Slowly I ascended the stairs and hesitated at the bed-chamber door before going into the presence of death. At this moment I felt no sorrow at hearing a soft foot-fall in the apartment. Martha Prescott was evidently within, and I entered, somewhat relieved at not having to undergo the ordeal alone. My horror, as may be supposed, was very great then to find the room empty. All I saw of life set my heart thumping at my ribs, and fastened me to the spot upon which I stood. There was another door at the further end of this room, and through it I just caught one glimpse of Joshua Beakbane's broad back as he vanished, closing the door after him. There could be no mistake. Two shallow steps led up to the said door, and it only gave access to a narrow apartment scarce bigger than a cupboard. The dead lady, with two wax candles burning at her feet, lay an insignificant atom in the great canopied bed. The room was tidy, and everything decent and well ordered, save that the white cerement which was wrapped about the corpse had been moved from off her face. But death so calm and peaceful as this paled before the terror of what I had witnessed. I dare not convince myself by rushing to the door through which my enemy had disappeared. My hair stood upon end. A vile sensation, as of ants creeping on my flesh, came over me. I turned, shuddering, and somehow found myself once more with the men I had left. I told my adventure, only to be politely laughed at by both. The young clerk, whose name was Sorrell, offered to make careful search of the premises, and calling the Prescotts, we went up with haste to seek the cause of my alarm. The door through which, as I believed, Joshua Beakbane had made his exit from the death-chamber yielded to us without resistance, and the small receptacle into which it opened was empty. Some of the dead lady's dresses were hung upon the walls, and these, with an old oaken trunk containing linen, which had rosemary and camphor in it to keep out the moths, were all we could find. The window was fastened, and the wooden shutters outside in their place. Young Sorrell had some ado to keep from laughing at my discomfiture, but we silently returned past where the two candles were burning and rejoined Mr. Plenderleath. That gentleman at my request consented to stay and dine, after which meal he and I would return to town together. He urged me to drink something more generous than claret, which, being quite unstrung, I did do, and was gradually regaining my mental balance when a circumstance occurred that threw me into a greater fit of prostration than before. A telegram arrived for Mr. Plenderleath, and was read aloud by him. It ran as follows:--