Ernest eagerly pressed his father and brother for information; the doctor, however, would not allow Francis Eversleigh to speak, and Gilbert said that he would presently tell them all, but that he must first attend to his father, who was far from well. "Just one word, Mr. Gilbert," said Williamson. "Is it true that the body of Mr. Morris Thornton was found in Mr. Silwood's sitting-room?--that is the rumour." "Yes, it is quite true." Williamson, on hearing this, fell back, with a look of the profoundest astonishment on his face. Up to this time he had not believed it, because, if it were true, then the suspicions which he had for some time entertained appeared to be more than confirmed, but he had not looked for so startling a confirmation. "I was right," he told himself. "I wish I could get to the bottom of it." Francis Eversleigh meanwhile went up to his room on the second floor, and now the doctor insisted that he must remain quiet. Further, the doctor said that he himself would go out to obtain some suitable nourishment for him. As he withdrew from the room, he beckoned to Gilbert. "Do not leave your father," he said to Gilbert, in the passage. "I am afraid he is ill--of what I cannot say, but it is easy to see that his vitality is very low. Has he suffered from some severe illness--some bad attack recently?" "No. He has been ailing slightly for a few weeks past--that is all." "He seems to me to be very much run down," the doctor went on. "You must make a point of getting him to see his own physician--the family doctor. In the mean time, I'll fetch him a strong pick-me-up and some light, nourishing food of which he stands much in need. After he has had it, he should be taken home at once, and put to bed as soon as possible." "Very well," agreed Gilbert; and the doctor went on his way down the stairs. Gilbert returned to his father's room. Father and son, now left alone for the first time since the discovery of Morris Thornton's body, looked at each other strangely. Gilbert's gaze seemed to ask the question, "What is the meaning of all this?" His father understood him but darkly, for he was suffering from a frightful obsession which numbed his brain. He was powerless to think coherently; all that he could fix his mind upon was merely what was nearest him, or what was immediately happening. It was this which explained his next words. "What was the doctor saying to you, Gilbert?" he asked. "Well, he said you were run down, and wanted bracing up," replied Gilbert. "Was that it?" "Yes; and I must say that it is not surprising you're ill, after two such shocks as you have received to-day." Then there was silence between them. Strange thoughts, half-formed suspicions crowded upon Gilbert in that pause. He glanced at his father, uncertain whether to speak to him or not.