The footman left the room almost without a sound, for the door was opened and closed noiselessly. The only thing that broke the terrible silence that seemed to reign was the faint clink of the silver tray against one of the metal buttons of the man's coat. As for the magnificently furnished room, with its heavy curtains and drawn-down blinds, it seemed to have grown darker, so that the faint gleams of light that had hung in a dull way on the faces of the great mirrors and the gilded carving of console and cheffonier, had died out. It required no great effort of the imagination to believe that the influence of the dead man who had passed so many solitary years in that shut-up house was still among them, making itself felt with a weight from which they could not free themselves. Paul Capel looked across at the beautiful face of Katrine D'Enghien, thinking of her creole extraction, and the half French, half American father who had married his relative. He expected to see her looking agitated as her cousin, Lydia Lawrence, but she sat back with one arm gracefully hanging over the side of the chair, her lustrous eyes half closed; and a pang strongly akin to jealousy shot through him as it seemed that those eyes were resting on the young elegant at his side. "Yes," said the old solicitor, suddenly, and his voice made all start but Miss D'Enghien, who did not even move her eyelids; "as I was saying," he went on, tapping his snuff-box, "I can tell you very little, Mr Capel, until the will is read." "Then there is a will?" said Miss D'Enghien. The old lawyer's brows wrinkled, as he glanced at her in surprise. "Yes, my dear young lady, there is a will." "And it will be read, of course, directly after the funeral?" said the dark young man. The lawyer did not reply. "I suppose you think it's bad form of a man asking such questions now; but really, Mr Girtle, it would be worse form for a fellow to be pulling a long face about one he never saw." "But he was your father's friend." "Oh, yes, of course." "Hence you, sir, are here," continued the lawyer. "My instructions were clear enough. I was to invite you here at this painful time, and take my old friend's place as your host." "You have been most kind, Mr Girtle," said Miss D'Enghien. "I thank you, madam, and I grieve that you should have to be present at so painful a time. My next instructions were to send for the Italian professor, who is here to carry out the wishes of the deceased." "Horrible idea for a man to wish to be embalmed," said Artis, brutally. Lydia Lawrence shuddered, and turned away her face. Paul Capel glanced indignantly at the speaker, and then turned to gaze at Katrine D'Enghien, who sat perfectly unmoved, her hand still hanging from the side of the chair, as if to show the graceful contour of her arm. "Colonel Capel had been a great part of his life in the East, Mr Artis," said the old lawyer, coldly. "He had had the matter in his mind for some time."