Avery stood and listened to her suggestions with grave forbearance. She never disputed anything with Miss Whalley, which may have been in part the reason for the latter's somewhat suspicious attitude towards her. They were still standing before the font while Miss Whalley unfolded her scheme when there came the sound of feet in the porch, and Lennox Tudor put his head in. His eyes fell at once upon Avery. He hesitated a moment then entered. She turned eagerly to meet him. "Oh, how is the Squire this morning? Have you been up to the Abbey yet?" "The Squire!" echoed Miss Whalley. "Is he ill? I was not aware of it." Avery's eyes were fixed on Tudor's face, and all in a moment she realized that he had been up all night. He did not seem to notice Miss Whalley, but spoke to Avery, and to her alone. "I have just come back from the Abbey. The Squire died about an hour ago." "The Squire!" said Miss Whalley again, in staccato tones. Avery said nothing, but she turned suddenly white, so white that Tudor was moved to compunction. "I shouldn't have blurted it out like that. Sit down! The poor old chap never rallied really. He had a little talk with Piers half-an-hour or so before he went. But it was only the last flicker of the candle. We couldn't save him." He bent down over her. "Don't look like that! It wasn't your fault. It was bound to come. I've foreseen it for some little time. I told him it was madness to go out riding as he did; but he wouldn't listen to me. Avery, I say! Avery!" His voice sank to an undertone. She forced her stiff lips to smile faintly in answer to the concern it held. With an effort she commanded herself. "What of Piers?" she said. He stood up again with a sharp gesture, and turned from her to answer Miss Whalley's eager questions. "Surely it is very sudden!" the latter was saying. "How did it happen? Will there be an inquest?" "There will not," said Tudor curtly. "I have been attending the Squire, for some time, and I knew that sooner or later this would happen. The Vicar is not here?" He turned to Avery. "I promised to look in on him on my way back. Shall I find him at the Vicarage?" He was gone almost before she could answer, and Avery was left on the seat by the door, staring before her with a wildly throbbing heart, still asking herself with a curious insistence, "What of Piers? What of Piers?" Miss Whalley surveyed her with marked disapproval. She considered it great presumption on Avery's part to be upset by such a matter, and her attitude said as much as she walked with a stately air down the church and commenced her own self-appointed task of decorating the pulpit.