For she had no doubt that his daughter would inherit the whole of his wealth, and with his wealth his hold over his debtors. She knew little or nothing of business, but she knew that she, like all the princes and lords who had been his debtors, would see her financial relations with him exposed to the light of day; unless he had had mercy enough in him to provide for her safety, which was not probable. She passed the hours miserably, though having summoned her women she had taken her bath and had tried to sleep. She could get no rest even from chloral. When some semi-unconsciousness came over her she saw in her dreams the ghost of Massarene with a smile upon his face. “Here I am again!” his shade said, like a clown in a pantomime. “Here I am again, my pretty one!”--and he laid his icy grip on her and grinned at her with fleshless skeleton jaws. Early in the morning she was awakened from a late and heavy slumber by the cries of the newspaper boys passing down the street and shouting, as their precursors had done on the previous evening: “Murder of a Member of Parliament! Assassination by an Anarchist! Awful crime at the gates of Harrenden House!” Then it was true, and not a nightmare, which the day could dissipate! She felt torn in two between relief and apprehension; with her breakfast they brought her the morning papers, which announced the ghastly event in large capital letters. There were no details given because there were none to give; the papers said that there was great activity at Scotland Yard, but at present nothing had transpired to account for the crime. Later in the day she drove to Harrenden House and left two cards for the widow and the daughter. On that for Margaret Massarene she had written: “My whole heart is with you. So shocked and grieved for the loss of my good friend.” “That’s very sweet of her!” said Mrs. Massarene with tremulous lips and red eyelids. Katherine Massarene took the cards and tore them in two. “Why do you do that, Kathleen?” said her mother between her sobs. “Your poor dear father was always so good to her. ’Tis only pretty of her to sorrow for him.” Katherine did not reply. The man who killed him was not discovered. No one had noticed the lean bent dark figure which had mingled with the crowd behind Harrenden House. “But, oh! for certain sure ’twas one of the many as he wronged,” said his wife, with the tears running down her pale cheeks. “I allus thought, though I didn’t dare to say so, that this was how your father would end some day, my dear. He always thought as he was God Almighty, did your poor father, my dear, and he never gave a back glance, as ’twere, to the tens and hundreds and thousands as he’d ruined.” Katherine Massarene, very calm, very grave, listened and did not dissent. “What he might have done!” she murmured. “Oh, what he might have done!--how much good, how much kindness!--what blessings might have gone with him to his grave!”