"It was a fearful ordeal for you," I said, "and you behaved very bravely; but you must not think too much about your mother's condition, nor about any words which she happened to say. She is highly feverish at present, and is not accountable for her actions. Sit down now, please, and take a glass of wine yourself." "No, thank you--I never take wine." "I'm glad to hear you say so, for in that case a glass of this good claret will do wonders for you. Here, I'm going to pour one out--now drink it off at once." She obeyed me with a patient sort of smile. She was very pale, but the wine brought some colour into her cheeks. "I am interested in your story," I said, after a pause. "Particularly in what you told me about your poor father. He must have been an interesting man, for you to treasure his memory so deeply. Do you mind describing him to me?" She flushed up when I spoke. I saw that tears were very near her eyes, and she bit her lips to keep back emotion. "My father was like no one else," she said. "It is impossible for me to make a picture of him for one who has not seen him." "But you can at least tell me if he were tall or short, dark or fair, old or young?" "No, I can't," she said, after another pause. "He was just father. When you love your father, he has a kind of eternal youth to you, and you don't discriminate his features. If you are his only child, his is just the one face in all the world to you. I find it impossible to describe the face, although it fills my mind's eye, waking and sleeping. But, stay, I have a picture of him. I don't show it to many, but you shall see it." She rushed out of the room, returning in a moment with a morocco case. She opened it, and brought over a candle at the same time so that the light should fall on the picture within. It represented a tall, slight man, with deep-set eyes and a very thin face. The eyes were somewhat piercing in their glance; the lips were closely set and firm; the chin was cleft. The face showed determination. I gave it a quick glance, and, closing the case, returned it to Gabrielle. The face was the face of the man I had seen in the garden. * * * * * My patient passed a dreadful night. She was no better the next morning. Her temperature was rather higher, her pulse quicker, her respiration more hurried. Her ravings had now become almost incoherent. Mackenzie and I had an anxious consultation over her. When he left the house I accompanied him. "I am going to make a strange request of you," I said. "I wish for your assistance, and am sure you will not refuse to give it to me. In short, I want to take immediate steps to have Heathcote's coffin opened." I am quite sure Mackenzie thought that I was mad. He looked at me, opened his lips as if to speak, but then waited to hear my next words. "I want to have Heathcote's body exhumed," I said. "If you will listen to me, I will tell you why."