'I thought I had more command over myself,' she said. 'I did not know I was so weak. But when there is any occasion for me to act, I shall be found strong enough. Tell me, sir, if you please, where is he? When will they bring him home?' Martin Gurwood was not prepared for this question; it was not one of those which he had talked over with Statham. Its being put so straightforward and direct, was a contingency which he never contemplated, and he knew not how to meet it. 'Where is he?' repeated Alice, observing his hesitation. 'There is perhaps some difficulty about his being brought here.' 'There--there is,' said Martin Gurwood, catching at the chance. 'Then I will go to him. I will be taken to him at once.' 'There will be some difficulty about that, my dear madam,' said Martin. 'I am afraid it cannot be managed so easily as you seem to anticipate.' 'Difficulty! Cannot be managed! I do not understand what you mean, sir.' 'Why,' said Martin, hesitating worse than ever, 'you see that--in these matters--' 'In these matters, who should be with them, who should be by them,' cried Alice, 'but their nearest and dearest? Who shall tell me not to go to my husband? Who shall gainsay my right to be by him at such a time? He had no relatives; he was mine--mine alone, and I was all the world to him! O, my dear old John!' And again she burst into an agony of tears. Martin Gurwood was almost at his wits' end. He foresaw that if the question were put to him again--as it would be put, he knew, so soon as her access of grief was over--if Alice again called upon him to take her to her husband, in default of any reasonable excuse he should probably be forced to confess the truth, and then he must be prepared to take the consequences, which he knew would be serious. This girl's utter prostration and humiliation, Mrs. Calverley's first outburst of rage, and subsequent malignant revenge, the shattering of the dead man's reputation, and the despicable slander and gossip which would ensue, Martin Gurwood thought of all these; knew that their being called into action was dependent on how to manage to get through the next few minutes. Why on earth had he undertaken this business? Why had not Statham, whose experience in such matters ought to have forewarned him that such a point was likely to arise--why had he not instructed him how to deal with it? From her point of view, this poor girl was, no doubt, strictly right. She considered herself to be the dead man's widow (Martin had now not the smallest doubt on that point), and was therefore perfectly justified in demanding to be taken to him. Even if Martin Gurwood's conscience would have absolved him from telling a white lie on the occasion, his inventive powers were not of calibre sufficient to devise the necessary fiction; he felt there was no chance for him but to tell Alice as little of the truth as would satisfy her, in as roundabout a manner as he could manage, and then to risk the result.