Bede stood up, facing the fire; his elbow on the mantelpiece, his back partially turned to his father, while he told it: he did not care to watch the anguish and horror of the usually placid face. He concealed nothing: relating how he had reached the City and held an interview with his cousin; how he had left him after the lapse of an hour, promising to be with him in the morning before starting for town; and how he had been aroused from his bed by the tidings that John was dead. He described the state of the room when found; the pistol lying underneath the hand; the note on the table. As well as Bede Greatorex could repeat the details, as testified to before the coroner--and we may be very sure they were implanted with painful exactitude on his memory--he gave them all faithfully. "It might have been an accident," urged Mr. Greatorex, in an imploring kind of tone, as if he wanted to be assured that it was. Bede did not answer. "I forgot the writing, Bede; I forgot the writing," said Mr. Greatorex, with a groan. "Whatever it might be, whether accident or self-intended, it is an awful shame to bury him as they are going to do," burst forth Bede, in a sudden access of anger. And the words served to tell Mr. Greatorex what the verdict had been. "It is a sin, sir; yes, it is. I could not stay to see it." "So it may be, Bede; but that's the least of it--that's the least of it. I'd as soon have believed myself capable of such a thing as that John Ollivera was. Oh, John! John!" A painful silence. Bede felt glad that his task was so far over. "His motive, Bede? What could have been his motive?" "There was no motive, father; as far as I can see." "You were young men together, Bede; of the same pursuits--frequent companions; did you ever suspect he had any care, or embarrassment, or trouble?" "No. He had none, I feel sure." "Those first words of the note, as you have related them, sound curious," resumed Mr. Greatorex. "What was it that he was trying to accomplish?" "We cannot discover; no clue whatever has come to light. It would almost seem as though he had written them to the air, without foundation." "That would be to say his senses had deserted him." "Kene thinks that the headache of which he had complained may have proceeded from some disordered function of the brain, and induced insanity." "Do _you_ think it?" asked Mr. Greatorex, looking at his son. "You were the last person who saw him alive." "I should be glad to think it if I could. He was quite calm and collected when I was with him; just as usual." "The extraordinary thing to me is, that nobody should have heard the discharge of the pistol." "The people of the house were all out. Even the servant-girl had gone about the neighbourhood gossiping." "It might have been heard in the street." "If the street were quiet, perhaps yes. But on assize nights, they tell me, there is an unusual deal of outdoor bustle."