It was at precisely this moment that Joseph was staring, trembling, into the mirror, at the foot of which lay the long white body of Lluellyn Lys, and realizing his own exact resemblance to the Man of Sorrows, Jesus Who came to save us all. CHAPTER VII THE FINANCIER Sir Augustus Kirwan, the great financier, was much disturbed by the news that his nephew Lluellyn Lys was dead. Both Sir Augustus and his wife had hoped that the recluse of the mountains might be induced to leave his solitudes and take an ordinary place in the world. The baronet was sonless. His wealth was enormous, and he could leave his daughter Marjorie enough money to make her one of the richest heiresses in England, and still endow a male heir with a huge fortune. This he would have done for his wife's nephew--his own nephew by marriage, for though not a well-born man himself, he had an immense reverence for ancient blood. He reverenced it in his wife, and was as well informed in the history of the House of Lys as she was herself. Now, however, there was no longer any chance of reclaiming Lluellyn from what Sir Augustus and Lady Kirwan had always regarded as the most incredible folly and semi-madness. The last male Lys in the direct line was gathered to his fathers. There still remained Mary Lys. "My dear," the baronet said to his wife, "Lluellyn's death has been a great blow to you, and, indeed, it has to me also, for you know that I share your enthusiasm for your family and your hopes for it. But Mary is still with us. She is young and beautiful. We can give her a dowry that will attract a duke. As soon as I am well again I shall put my foot down in no uncertain way. This time, whatever Mary may say, I shall compel her to leave this ridiculous slum-hospital work and take her proper place in society." Sir Augustus spoke of his illness. He was a man by no means indifferent to the pleasures of the table. As he himself would have expressed it, he "did himself well" in every particular. But people who like white truffles from Piedmont, caviare from the Volga, comet year port, and liqueurs of brandy at seven pounds a bottle, must expect a Nemesis. Two days before the news of Lluellyn's death arrived Sir Augustus was seized with a bad attack of gout. When Mary Lys, in uncontrollable grief, had hastened to her aunt's house in Berkeley Square, carrying the sad message from Joseph Bethune which told her of her beloved brother's death, the banker had been quite unable to move. Had it been in any way possible, the worthy man would have hastened to Wales to be present at the funeral of his nephew by marriage. But the physicians had absolutely forbidden him the journey. He would not, however, allow Mary to travel to the principality by herself. In the first place he had the not uncommon dislike of men to their womenkind attending funerals. Mary would not hear of this.