'Well, Marchioness--I don't know if that's the proper way in which to address a lady in your position, but if it isn't you'll have to excuse me till I do know--you are now one of the greatest ladies in the land, and I shall have to behave to you as such. As for my lord the Marquis, I shall have to mind my p's and q's with a vengeance when I'm talking to him. I suppose he'll give up his taste for hardbake, and won't look at anything under chocolate creams. Which is a pity--because I happen to have some hardbake in my pocket at this very moment--My Lord Marquis!' Spoken to like that, Jimmy wouldn't go. 'Pardon me if I'm over familiar just this once, but--Jimmy!' Jimmy went. Mr. FitzHoward was mistaken if he really did think hardbake wasn't good enough; because Pollie and the boy began to get rid of what he gave them in a style which I knew meant sticky fingers and dirty faces. 'There is only one remark, my dear Marchioness--if you'll allow me to make so bold as to call you so--which I wish to make, and that is that it's a pretty sure thing that you'll do honour to the high position to which you have so suddenly been called. You'll look the part just as well as you will act it, And if there's any woman who's more worthy of being the great lady than you are, I've yet to come across her. In a man who's had such a varied experience of the profession as I have had, that's saying something, as you know.' 'Mr. FitzHoward, you forget one thing.' 'What's that?' 'James is dead.' 'I don't forget it. I remember it all the time. But there are visitations of Providence, Marchioness, which we must all put up with; the lowly like me, as well as the great like you.' 'He was killed.' 'Killed! Mrs. Merrett! I mean, Marchioness!' 'Mr. Howarth killed him.' 'I say! My dear lady--if you'll pardon my dropping the title for just this once--don't you go taking foolish words of mine as if they'd been meant. As I explained to you yesterday, I've a professional way of talking and an unprofessional; and when I'm talking professionally, I'm not, between you and me, to be taken as meaning just exactly what I say. Now this is an unprofessional moment, in which we're dealing with the cold, dry truth; so let me take this opportunity to tell you that what I was saying about Mr. Howarth, in my professional manner, was just tommy rot, and nothing more. A man in Mr. Howarth's position is no more likely to kill your husband, or any one else, than he is to ride on a broomstick to the moon.' 'But he did kill him.' 'Now, my dear, my esteemed Marchioness, what grounds have you for saying that? What tittle of evidence--outside my balderdash, which, mind, was balderdash, and nothing else--have you which points that way?' 'I haven't told you how they say he died.' 'Well, let's hear.' 'They say he died of heart disease.' 'Of what?' 'Of heart disease--on the day after he left home.'