"And I ought to tell you, mother, that there is no will. Aunt Jane and Roger have looked everywhere, and made inquiries. I am afraid there is no longer any doubt that Dick has died without making one. So you will have your wish." The gentle voice had a tinge of bitterness. "Everything will go to Harry." When Janey came downstairs again she found Roger sitting in the library with a hand on each knee. He looked worn out. She made fresh tea for him, and he drank it in silence, while she mended his split glove. "Well, it's over," he said at last. "All the arrangements were so carefully made," she said softly, putting her little thumb into the big thumb of his glove, and finding where the mischief had started. He watched her without seeing her. "I think everything went right," he said. "I hope it did, and Black did his part. I never heard him read so well." "I thought the same." Roger was so accustomed to hear this expression from Janey whenever he made a statement that he had long since ceased to listen to it. "I'm thankful there was no hitch. I could not sleep last night, earache or something, and I had an uneasy feeling--very silly of me, but I could not get it out of my head--that one of those women would turn up and make a scene." "From what you've told me, Mary Deane would never have done a thing like that." "No. She was too proud, but there was the other one, the Fontainebleau one. I had a sort of idea _she_ might have been in the church. Queer things happen now and then. I didn't like to look round. Mustn't be looking about at a funeral. I suppose you didn't see anyone that might have been her?" Janey laid down the glove. "I didn't look round either," she said. CHAPTER XXXIV "Others besides Moses have struggled up the mountain only to be shown the promised land, and to hear the words: Thou shalt see it with thine eyes, but shalt not pass over." The following morning saw Janey and Roger sitting opposite each other once more, but this time in his office-room, staring blankly at each other. In spite of her invariably quiet demeanour, she was trembling a little. "I am afraid you _must_ believe it, Roger." "Good Lord!" was all Roger could say, evidently not for the first time. There was a long silence. "When did she tell you?" "This morning, after breakfast. She and Harry came in together when I was writing letters, hand in hand, as if they were in a novel, and she said they had been married three months." "Three months!" "Yes." "Why, they must have been married in June." "Yes." "Good Lord!" Janey told him how they had been married at Ipswich at a Registry Office. "Her brother, who is a solicitor, was one of the witnesses. She showed me a copy of the certificate. She seems to have been very--methodical." "It won't hold. Poor Harry is a loony."