Pelham’s engagement to Barbara Evershed had just been bruited abroad in society, and she was heartily congratulated. The whole thing was almost like a story. Nothing could have happened in a more opportune way. Of course, the death of the child was dreadful, and those who knew the little fellow were heartily sorry; but few people did know him, and Barbara had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. Amongst these people the general rumor was that the child had been removed at a most crucial and happy moment. Mrs. Evershed’s monetary affairs would be put straight, and she would be the mother-in-law of one of the richest men in England. The match was a splendid one for her handsome daughter. Yes, Barbara was in luck, but as she happened to be a popular girl, as the voice of society pronounced her fine-spirited, and even noble, there was not one who grudged her the happiness which was now assuredly to be hers. As to the mother of the dead boy, the terrible shock had brought on a sharp attack of nervous fever. A nurse had to be called in to look after her. As a matter of course, Nurse Ives had been asked to undertake the case, but, much to Barbara’s surprise, she absolutely refused to nurse Mrs. Pelham. “I cannot do it,” she said. “I will stay in the house until another nurse arrives, but I do not wish to have anything to do with the case.” Tarbot was much annoyed at this decision, but he could not shake Nurse Ives’s resolve. Forty-eight hours after the death of the child his coffin arrived. The undertaker’s men brought it into the room. Nurse Ives was the only one present. The men lifted the little body from the bed and laid it in the coffin. They then turned to view their work. “He makes a pretty corpse, don’t he?” said one to the other. In truth he did. His face was like a flower, for the color had not quite left his cheeks. “You’d a’most fancy he was alive still,” said one of the men. “See that touch of pink?” He touched the cheek reverently. Nurse Ives went up and stood at the head of the bed. She gave the man an angry glance and he apologized for what he had done. “We will come in if you like later on to screw down the lid,” he said. “The lid had better be screwed on now,” said the nurse. “There are signs of mortification already setting in, and it would be unwise to leave the coffin uncovered any longer. Miss Evershed or Mrs. Pelham might come up to see the corpse; it would not be safe, and I wish to have the lid screwed on at once.” “All right, Miss, we’ll soon put things straight.” The men put on the lid and screwed it down, and then they went away. The moment they did so a queer look came over Nurse Ives’s impassive face. She went quickly to the door of the room and locked it. Then, taking a turnscrew, she hastily unfastened the screws and removed the lid from the top of the coffin. Having done this, she lifted the body out.