'But--if James were to come--and find me gone!' 'James? You mean my brother? My dear lady, he is dead.' 'You talk about all sorts of things I don't understand, like those other two, but you say nothing about the only thing I care for. I can't believe that my James is dead--unless he was killed.' 'You would have no difficulty if you'd seen him as I saw him; and as for killing, that's absurd. I don't wish to say anything to pain you, but your words make it necessary that you should be told the truth. When I saw him he was nothing but skin and bone; the mere shadow of what he had been; weak and helpless as a new-born child. The doctors agreed that he must have been dying for weeks, if not months, and that the only marvel was how he had lived so long.' 'Then--then there was witchcraft.' 'Witchcraft? What do you mean?' I couldn't tell him. I hardly knew myself. Only if what he said was true, and I felt sure that he believed it was, then somewhere there was a mystery which was beyond my understanding. I let Mr. FitzHoward talk to him instead of me. 'Excuse me, sir--or my lord, as it seems you are--but might I ask what the late Marquis is supposed to have died of?' 'Supposed? There is no supposition about it. He died of heart disease.' 'Then give me leave to tell you there's a good deal of supposition about it. Although I'm not a betting man, I'm ready to bet a thousand pounds to a brass button that he did nothing of the kind.' 'Do you add medical qualifications to those others you were speaking of.' 'I do not; but I do add common-sense. I suppose there was a medical certificate? Who signed it?' 'Sir Gregory Hancock, a physician of whom you may have heard, and Dr. White.' 'Then, between them, they made a jolly fine muddle. The day before he died he was in perfect health, and as fit as you and I--if not fitter!' 'It's incredible.' 'Is it? I'll produce half-a-dozen doctors, at least, who'll certify--I have some of their certificates at home in my desk at this minute--that his heart was sound as sound could be, and that his general health and condition were the best possible.' 'I say again it's incredible.' 'Do you? The night before he died he slept at the York Hotel. Before he left, on the morning of his death, he ate a good breakfast and had two or three goes of whisky. The landlord had a chat with him before he went, and he'll tell you, as he told me, that he never saw him in better health or spirits; and you can bet your life that that wasn't the first time he'd seen him.' 'If what you say is correct, then there's something which I fail to understand.' 'There's a good deal which I fail to understand. I believe there's only one person who does understand, and that's the Hon. Douglas Howarth.' 'Your tone seems to convey something injurious to Mr. Howarth.' 'I don't know about injurious, only I should just like to know how he managed it, that's all.' 'Managed what?'