"One might think you cared," she said, and smiled into my face. We got into a train and as soon as it started Lord Bill broke out crying. He declared that Weldon was the best fellow in the world and that he would miss him dreadfully. Then he said in the midst of life we are in death, and laughed, and without asking permission, he began to smoke a cigarette. It is strange how differently people are affected by emotion. I was mentally dazed, and I fancy part of my brain was benumbed. Miss Ottley was poignantly awake, but her pride, and her strength of mind served her for a mask. Lord Bill, on the other hand, acted as responsively to his feelings as an infant. And yet each of us behaved naturally. I reflected on these things all the way to town. Lord Bill bade us farewell at the station. Miss Ottley and I drove to her home in a hansom. During the drive she spoke about the funeral quite calmly and mentioned poor Weldon's love for big, red roses. His coffin should be smothered in roses, she declared. When I helped her to the pavement, she pointed up at a window that was open. "Dr. Belleville's room," she said, and smiled. "He is enjoying his triumph. He kept his word to the letter. It is the seventh day. The seventh day, Hugh Pinsent; that is a terrible man. How shall I possibly withstand him?" I shook my head. "You are wrong," I answered dully. "He is not responsible for this. It was an accident." "Are you sure?" she asked. "I am sure of nothing," I replied. "But it seems to me an accident--and yet. But there. I am incapable of reasoning in my present mood. I shall see you again. In the meanwhile--think of Weldon's last words to you and do not grieve too much!" "And you?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I have never felt more miserable. And already I am beginning to fancy I might have saved him." "How?" "By going yesterday to your father and Dr. Belleville and forcing them at the muzzle of a revolver to tell me things they know and which I want to know." "You rave," she muttered coldly, and slowly climbed the steps. I followed her and rang the bell. "If you persist in thinking my father a bad man, I never want to speak to you again," she whispered. There were steps in the passage. I took off my hat to her. "I must mend my thoughts," I said. The door opened and Dr. Belleville appeared upon the threshold. The girl gave him a quick look before which he quailed. But he recovered quickly. "I sincerely trust you bring good news," he said, in tones of deep concern. "The best," answered Miss Ottley, and drawing in her gown she swept past him with a glance of bitter hate, into the house. Belleville looked after her, then turned to me, plucking at his jetty beard and frowning heavily. "Weldon is better?" he inquired. "He is dead," I said.