'Well, as I can't find it I imagine that the woman won't; so I suppose I make take it that the money's safe. There's only one other topic on which I wish to touch--the funeral. The undertaker's man will come and measure you to-day. The shell, and, I presume, the coffin also, will arrive to-morrow morning. You'll be placed inside, and, in the afternoon, the coffin will be closed. It will be taken down in the evening by a special train to Cressland--where you may, or may not, be aware is the family vault--the interment taking place on Wednesday. As we are none of us particularly proud of you, the interment will be as private as possible. As, I take it, you don't want to be inside the coffin when it's placed in its last resting-place, I'll look in before the undertaker's fellows; you must give up being dead, and, between us, we'll screw down the lid. I'll find an excuse which will satisfy them. I have an idea in this fertile brain of mine.--You clearly understand and agree. Say so if you don't!' He said nothing, nor signified in any way whatever that he had attained to even a glimmer of comprehension. But I knew him. Taking his immobility to signify acquiescence, I left him asleep upon the bed. But though I left him he was with me all the time. I could not get him out of my head. I interviewed the landlord, with whom I made arrangements on a very liberal scale to compensate him for the inconvenience the affair was causing him; and all the while that we were talking I saw, with my mental eye, the silent figure on the bed! Thence I went to Tattenham, the funeral furnisher. The figure was with me there. I wondered what my feelings would be if I knew that I was being measured for my coffin. With what amount of ceremony would the measurer treat me? To be touched for such a purpose by such hands! I feared that under his kind offices I should not lie so still as I trusted Mr. Montagu Babbacombe would do. At home I found, as I expected, Edith and Reggie confabulating with Violet. As I also expected, Vi began at me at once--though her tone and bearing were alike surprising. She was unwontedly meek. 'Doug'--it was very rarely that she called me 'Doug,' I had rather she had not done so then. I had too recently heard the abbreviation proceeding from other lips--'Doug, I'm sorry I behaved so badly. I know I was a wretch. Edith has made me see that, and it's no use Reggie pretending that I wasn't.' My manner was brusque. It was a subject about which I wished to hear nothing more. 'That's all right. I wouldn't be too penitent if I were you. There was no harm done.' 'But it prevented him making his will?' 'If it did it did; and what's done can't be undone. Not that I think it matters.' 'Don't you really think it matters? Supposing any of those things happen at which it seems that Mr. Foster hinted; what then?' 'What then? Wait till then. Till then say nothing.'