As the lawyer had failed in the old time the doctors failed now. But they were resolved to leave no stone unturned in their attempt to get him to settle his affairs. The dying man's daughter was too young, and too timid, and too closely interested in the execution of the document to think of asking her aid; so they resolved to summon Mrs. Grant, and request her to press the matter home to the mind of the invalid. In the great banqueting-room the three physicians in attendance sat when it was resolved to invoke Mrs. Grant. The vast apartment had been allowed to fall almost into ruins. It was the finest room in the house, and few houses in either county that claimed the banks of the Weeslade at this point could boast so noble a chamber. But twenty years of neglect had defiled and defaced the room. The curtains were faded and worn, the hair grinned through the torn covers of the fine old oak chairs. Damp had attacked the moulding of the picture frames, and here and there the moulding had fallen off, leaving the bones of the discoloured frames exposed to view. The ceiling, formed of oak cross-beams, with flowers and fruit pieces in the panels, had felt the corroding touch of wilful Time. Here and there the canvas bulged off the panel, and hung in loose flabby blisters from the roof. The fine oak floor had grown dull and woolly for want of use and care. Sir Alexander kept no servants to look after the apartments he did not make use of, and refused to allow even beeswax for the floors. The dog-irons, which had stood watch over the home-fire of generations of his name and blood, were rusted. The tapestries hanging across the doors, here and there torn from their hooks, hung in neglected disorder from the rods. The hospitable greeting "Welcome," in blue enamel in the wreath of carved vine-leaves round the top of the huge sideboard, had lost some of its letters. The glasses of the lamps held by the bronze Nubian slaves at the doors were reduced to half their number. The leather thongs lacing the suits of armour that held the groups of candles at either end of the sideboard had rotted and parted, and the helmets and back and breast plates gaped at the sutures. The chamber smelt like a vault just opened, and, although the weather was bright and fine, all the furniture, the walls, the floor, felt damp and slimy. As soon as the doctors had finished luncheon, Mrs. Grant was sent for. She arrived in a state of great agitation; she feared that Sir Alexander was in the last extremity. Dr. Hardy, the senior physician, a pale, soft-voiced, self-contained man of few words, was the spokesman. He said: "You will be glad to hear, and you will be kind enough to inform Miss Midharst, that there is no cause for any alarm on account of the present condition of Sir Alexander." Mrs. Grant looked infinitely relieved. Strange and unsympathetic a father as the invalid had been, she did not like the thought of having to tell anything dreadful about him to Maud.