"Look at the speaker," cried Honoria. "I am not mad, Reginald Eversleigh, though, by you and your fellow-plotter, I have been made to suffer that which might have turned a stronger brain than mine. I am not mad. I say that my husband has been murdered; and I ask all present to mark my words. I have no evidence of what I say, except instinct; but I know that it does not deceive me. As for you, Reginald Eversleigh, I refuse to recognize your rights beneath this roof. As the widow of Sir Oswald, I claim the place of mistress in this house, until events show whether I have a right to it or not." These were bold words from one who, in the eyes of all present, was a disgraced wife, who had been banished by her husband. General Desmond was the person who took upon himself to reply. He was the oldest and most important guest now remaining at the castle, and he was a man who had been much respected by Sir Oswald. "I certainly do not think that any one here can dispute Lady Eversleigh's rights, until Sir Oswald's will has been read, and his last wishes made known. Whatever passed between my poor friend and his wife yesterday is known to Lady Eversleigh alone. It is for her to settle matters with her own conscience; and if she chooses to remain beneath this roof, no one here can presume to banish her from it, except in obedience to the dictates of the dead." "The wishes of the dead will soon be known," said Reginald; "and then that guilty woman will no longer dare to pollute this house by her presence." "I do not fear, Reginald Eversleigh," answered Honoria, with sublime calmness. "Let the worst come. I abide the issue of events. I wait to see whether iniquity is to succeed; or whether, at the last moment, the hand of Providence will be outstretched to confound the guilty. My faith is strong in Providence, Mr. Eversleigh. And now stand aside, if you please, and let me look upon the face of my husband." This time, Reginald Eversleigh did not venture to dispute the widow's right to enter the death-chamber. He made way for her to pass him, and she went in and knelt by the side of the dead. Mr. Dalton, the lawyer, was moving softly about the room, putting seals on all the locks, and collecting the papers that had been scattered on the table. The parish doctor, who had been summoned hastily, stood near the corpse. A groom had been despatched to a large town, twenty miles distant, to summon a medical man of some distinction. There were few railroads in those days; no electric telegraph to summon a man from one end of the country to another. But all the most distinguished doctors who ever lived could not have restored Sir Oswald Eversleigh to an hour's life. All that medical science could do now, was to discover the mode of the baronet's death. The crowd left the hall by and by, and the interior of the castle grew more tranquil. All the remaining guests, with the exception of General Desmond, made immediate arrangements for leaving the house of death.