They stood in the hall for some time while Guy told her in whispers about the belladonna liniment. Then they went upstairs together and found Thomas Oscard--the great historian--dead on the floor. The liniment bottle, which Guy had left on the mantelpiece, was in his hand--empty. He had feigned sleep in order to carry out his purpose. He had preferred death, of which the meaning was unknown to him, to the possibility of that living death in which his father had lingered for many years. And who shall say that his thoughts were entirely selfish? There may have been a father's love somewhere in this action. Thomas Oscard, the eccentric savant, had always been a strong man, independent of the world's opinion. He had done this thing deliberately, of mature thought, going straight to his Creator with his poor human brain full of argument and reason to prove himself right before the Judge. They picked him up and laid him reverently on the bed, and then Guy went for the doctor. “I could,” said the attendant of Death, when he had heard the whole story--“I could give you a certificate. I could reconcile it, I mean, with my professional conscience and my--other conscience. He could not have lived thirty hours--there was an abscess on his brain. But I should advise you to face the inquest. It might be”--he paused, looking keenly into the young fellow's face--“it might be that at some future date, when you are quite an old man, you may feel inclined to tell this story.” Again the doctor paused, glancing with a vague smile towards the woman who stood beside them. “Or even nurse--” he added, not troubling to finish his sentence. “We all have our moments of expansiveness. And it is a story that might easily be--discredited.” So the “eccentric Oscard” finished his earthly career in the intellectual atmosphere of a coroner's jury. And the world rather liked it than otherwise. The world, one finds, does like novelty, even in death. Some day an American will invent a new funeral, and if he can only get the patent, will make a fortune. The world was, moreover, pleased to pity Guy Oscard with that pure and simple sympathy which is ever accorded to the wealthy in affliction. Every one knew that Thomas Oscard had enjoyed affluence during his lifetime, and there was no reason to suppose that Guy would not step into very comfortably lined shoes. It was unfortunate that he should lose his father in such a tragic way, and the keen eye of the world saw the weak point in his story at once. But the coroner's jury was respectful, and the rest of society never so much as hinted at the possibility that Guy had not tried his best to keep his father alive. Among the letters of sympathy, the young fellow received a note from Lady Cantourne, whose acquaintance he had successfully renewed, and in due course he called at her house in Vere Gardens to express somewhat lamely his gratitude.