"Sir William Lakington—the great heart specialist," I answered, and at that moment clear and distinct through the still night came the thrumming of a motor-car. "Is it—my husband?" She listened tensely, and I crossed to the window. The car had stopped outside the gate, and already a man was striding up the narrow path to the front door. "He has come, Mrs. MacDerry," I said, cheerfully.... "Now I want you to have another drink of this...." I poured out the dose, and as I held the glass to her lips, the bedroom door gently opened and a man came in. I glanced up at him to ensure silence, and met a pair of piercing eyes, which were staring at me from under great bushy eyebrows. His huge frame seemed to fill the whole doorway; then, on tiptoe he crept towards the bed. I laid the glass down, and turned away. My part was over, save for a word of warning. And so I beckoned to him, and he followed me to the window. "You have not got long, Mr. MacDerry," I whispered. "The sands are very low." It was then that I noticed a huge roll of illustrated papers under his arm. "I shall be downstairs: call me if you want me." "Is it the end?" he whispered, and I bowed gravely. "It is the end," I answered. I heard him whisper, "Thank God I was in time"; and then I left them together. For maybe half an hour I sat in the room downstairs. Once the maid came in to know if I would have anything to eat, and after that the house grew very silent. Only the murmur of a man’s deep voice above broke the stillness, and at length that, too, ceased. And then suddenly I heard him calling me from the landing, and went upstairs. One glance was enough, and he looked at my face and understood. Mechanically I stooped and picked up one of the papers that had slipped off the bed: then I moved away ... I could do no more for the sweet old lady: she had passed beyond all earthly aid. I put the paper on the table within the circle of light thrown by the lamp. It was a copy of the _Tatler_ open at the page of photographs taken at the big wedding. There was one of young Landon and his bride—a good photo: and then I found myself staring foolishly at one of the others. I bent forward to examine it closer; there was no mistaking the great spare frame and thick eyebrows. Why had Robert, Sixteenth Earl of Fingarton, rushed post-haste from the wedding of his son to the death-bed of Mrs. MacDerry? And why had she called him—husband?... *III* It was the following day that, closely muffled up, he came into my room as I worked. "Do I disturb you, Sir Richard?" he asked as I rose. So he had made inquiries about my name.... "Not at all," I answered, gravely. "Sit down." He took the chair I indicated, and for a while he stared at me in silence. "It was unfortunate that Doctor Lee was out," he said at length. "And Hannah—the maid—had naturally no idea who you were. I, on the contrary, know you well by reputation...." I bowed silently.