He had married within the time, choosing for himself the buxom daughter of a lodgekeeper, whose wife had long been laid at rest in Grasmere churchyard. The buxom girl had grown into a bulky matron, but she was a colourless personage, and her existence made hardly any difference in James Steadman's life. She had brought him no children, and their fireside was lonely; but Steadman seemed to be one of those self-contained personages to whom a solitary life is no affliction. 'I hope I see you in better health, my lady,' he said, standing straight and square, like a soldier on parade. 'I am better, thank you, Steadman; better, but a poor lifeless log chained to this sofa. I sent for you because the time has come when I must talk to you upon a matter of business. You heard, I suppose, that a stranger called upon me just before I had my attack?' 'Yes, my lady.' 'Did you hear who and what he was?' 'Only that he was a foreigner, my lady.' 'He is of Indian birth. He claims to be the son of the Ranee of Bisnagar.' 'He could do you no harm, my lady, if he were twenty times her son.' 'I hope not. Now, I want to ask you a question. Among those trunks and cases and packages of Lord Maulevrier's which were sent here by heavy coach, after they were landed at Southampton, do you remember two cases of books?' 'There are two large cases among the luggage, my lady; very heavy cases, iron clamped. I should not be surprised if they were full of books.' 'Have they never been opened?' 'Not to my knowledge.' 'Are they locked?' 'Yes, my lady. There are two padlocks on each chest.' 'And are the keys in your possession?' 'No, my lady.' 'Where are the cases?' 'In the Oak Room, with the rest of the Indian luggage.' 'Let them remain there. No doubt those cases contain the books of which I have been told. You have not heard that the person calling himself Rajah of Bisnagar has been here since my illness, have you?' 'No, my lady; I am sure he has not been here.' Lady Maulevrier gave him a scrutinising look. 'He might have come, and my people might have kept the knowledge from me, out of consideration for my infirmity,' she said. 'I should be very angry if it were so. I should hate to be treated like a child.' 'You shall not be so treated, my lady, while I am in this house; but I know there is no member of the household who would presume so to treat you.' 'They might do it out of kindness; but I should loathe such kindness,' said Lady Maulevrier, impatiently. 'Though I have been smitten down, though I lie here like a log, I have a mind to think and to plan; and I am not afraid to meet danger, face to face. Are you telling me the truth, Steadman? Have there been no visits concealed from me, no letters kept from me since I have been ill?' 'I am telling you nothing but the truth, my lady. No letter has been kept from you; no visitor has been to this house whose coming you have not been told of.'