“No, no, no—heart failure,” hastily interposed Mrs. Billing. “He was always troubled with a rickety heart, and on several occasions my husband attended him for rather dangerous fainting attacks; no doubt that was partly the reason why he lived so quietly, just taken up with his books, his garden, and, when he was at home, his boy. It appears that when Mr. Shafto heard of the smash, he went straight up to London, interviewed a lawyer, and learnt the worst. He returned in the afternoon, very tired and excited, broke the news to his wife, and had a serious fainting attack. My husband was sent for, but he found Mr. Shafto sinking. He died at midnight. He himself had wired for Douglas, who arrived just in time for the end. Poor boy! He feels it terribly.” “Yes,” assented Miss Mitty, “Douglas and his father were such friends. The loss of money will make a sad difference to him. There will be no going into the Army now, no more hunting and cricket; he will have to take a clerkship. Did you see him?” “Yes. He and my Freddy are great pals, so I know him pretty well. I declare he gave me a shock, he looked utterly heart-broken; and he said: ‘It is so sudden, so frightfully sudden—about the pater; the money may come back somehow or other, but he is gone for ever; I’ll never see him again. If he had only known me—or spoken to me!’ And then he just laid his head upon his arms and sobbed like a girl.” “And Mrs. Shafto, how does _she_ bear this double loss?” inquired Miss Jane magisterially. “She had one fit of screaming hysterics after another. If you ask _me_, I believe it’s the money that touches her most keenly; my husband begged me to go up this morning, and see if I could do anything. She has no intimate friends here, and I have sent to Mrs. Boomer and Mrs. Jake; they will be over from Bricklands immediately. The doctor has given a certificate, and has undertaken to see about the funeral, and sent the notice to the _Times_ and _Morning Post_. From what old Hannah told me, it seems that Mr. Shafto and his family were not on terms; I believe the quarrel had something to do”—she paused and glanced from one to the other of her eager listeners—“with Mrs. Shafto, and I am not surprised. They did not approve of the marriage—it was a mistake.” “I’m afraid it was,” agreed Miss Mitty briskly; “they never appeared a well-matched couple; he, so reserved and aristocratic, and she such a gabbling, fluffy, restless creature—crazy about bridge and dress. I wonder who she was?”