"I wonder who played at being Stephen de Wick," he said gently. And the silence between them was so sensitive, that neither accusation nor confession was necessary. "I wish that you had trusted me. You might have done so and you know it." Then they began to talk of what must be done about the funeral. Cymlin promised to send a quick messenger for Sir Thomas, and in many ways made himself so intimately necessary to the lonely women that they would not hear of his leaving de Wick. For Matilda was charmed by his thoughtfulness, and by the masterful way in which he handled people and events. He enforced every tittle of respect due the dead man, and in obedience to Matilda’s desire had his grave dug in the private burying-place of the de Wicks, close to the grave of the lord he had served so faithfully. As for the accusations the sheriff spread abroad, they died as soon as born; Cymlin’s silent contempt withered them, for his local influence was so great that the attending constables thought it best to have no clear memory of what passed in those last moments of Anthony’s life. "Lynn was neither here nor there," said one of them; "and what he said was just like dreaming. Surely no man is to be blamed for words between sleeping and waking—much less for words between living and dying." But the incident made much comment in the King’s favour; and when Sir Thomas heard of it, he rose to his feet and bared his head, but whether in honour of the King or of Anthony Lynn, he did not say. After Anthony was buried, his will was read. He left everything he possessed to the Lady Matilda de Wick, and no one offered a word of dissent. Sir Thomas seemed unusually depressed and his lady asked him "if he was in any way dissatisfied?" "No," he answered; "the will is unbreakable by any law now existing. Lynn has hedged and fenced every technicality with wonderful wisdom and care. It is not anything in connection with his death that troubles me. It is the death of the young Lord Neville that gives me constant regret. It is unnatural and most unhappy; and I do blame myself a little." "Is he dead? Alas! Alas! Such a happy, handsome youth. It is incredible," said Lady Jevery. "I thought he had run away to the Americas with your gold and my aunt’s jewels," said Matilda. "I wronged him, I wronged him grievously," answered Sir Thomas. "That wretch of a woman at The Hague never paid him a farthing, never even saw him. She intended to rob me and slay him for a thousand pounds, but under question of the law she confessed her crime." "I hope she is hung for it," said Lady Jevery. "She is ruined, and in prison for life—but that brings not back poor Neville." "What do you think has happened to him?"