MacGowan, after many expressions of gratitude, went on board, and the steamer, which was already crawling at a snail’s pace past the wharf, slowly worked her way to the entrance at the further end of the dock. With the help of her tug she got quickly through the dock-gates, and Beattie stood watching her as she glided out into the river, until she was hidden in the sea-mist and the gathering darkness. CHAPTER XXVI. THE RICH MAN DIED, AND WAS BURIED. On a gloomy winter morning the invisible hand was stretched forth, and James Lindsay was taken behind the veil. Then hired people came and went silently. The blinds were drawn, and the house was almost in darkness. The servants, knowing that little would be expected of them, gathered round their fire and told each other what steps they would take to gain new places. Miss Lindsay informed Mr. Hatchett of what had happened, that he might seal up the dead man’s desk and the drawers of his writing-table; and Mr. Hatchett sent a trusty old clerk named Drake, who had performed that service for scores of deceased clients, to do what was necessary. After Mr. Drake’s departure Miss Lindsay locked the doors of the library, and of the room where the dead man was lying, and betook herself to her own room on the third floor. Laura followed her example. Early in the afternoon Semple, finding that existence at No. 21, Claremont Gardens was, under the circumstances, an insupportable burden, wandered off towards the City, leaving word that he would not be back to dinner. About three in the afternoon Laura crept downstairs, and finding that the drawing-room fire was lighted, she sat down before it, and wondered for the hundredth time that day whether her guardian had left her anything in his will. She wished Semple had not gone out. She would have made him tell her. She wished Alec would come, that she might ask him--it would have been some relief, some breach in the monotony, even to see him for five minutes--but he did not come to the house all day. As it happened, he was confined to the house with influenza. An hour passed, and Laura felt that she could not stand it any longer. She went to the library for a book, but the door was locked. Then she put her hand on the bell, meaning to send out one of the servants for a novel; but before ringing she withdrew her hand and went up to her own room. Very quietly she put on her hat and boots. She knew she was committing a breach of propriety, and that was in great part the attraction for her. Slipping quietly, with an inward shudder, past the chamber where death held his court, she reached the hall, and in another minute she was in the open air. The fog was thick, but not too thick for her to find her way.