There was no need to say what had happened, for in the air there was that indescribable feeling which tells of the presence of the great destroyer. Leaving Patience to the care of Beaumont, to whom she clung with convulsive terror, Dr. Larcher reverently entered as he thought the chamber of death. He bent down to the form lying so still on the floor, and turned the face to the light with tender hand. It was ghastly pale, and from the thin lips there flowed a thin stream of blood; still the vicar saw at a glance that life yet remained, so calling softly to Reginald and Dick, the three men lifted the body up gently and placed it on the bed. Beaumont had succeeded in somewhat pacifying Patience, and induced the women to go downstairs while he sent for the doctor to examine the sick man. They all re-assembled in the oak parlour, and terrified faces and subdued whispers took the place of merry looks and jocund laughter. Attracted by the housekeeper's shriek, Dr. Nestley now entered the room, and proceeded to see what he could do towards reviving the squire. Beaumont glanced keenly at him as he passed, but though his face was pale and heavy-looking, still he was perfectly sober. He caught the artist scrutinising him, and drawing himself up with an angry frown, passed him by without a word. "What is the matter, doctor?" asked the vicar anxiously, when the young man had concluded his examination. "Aneurism," he replied briefly. "The body is thoroughly debilitated--he has burst a main artery." "Is it his heart?" asked Reginald. "If he had burst any artery in the vicinity of the heart, he would have died at once--even now he cannot live very long--I expected this?" "What produced the rupture?" "Some sudden emotion, I presume, or violent exercise--here comes the housekeeper; she will tell us all about it." Patience, looking pale but composed, and in answer to the interrogatories of the doctor, told the following story: "The squire was quietly sleeping in bed," she exclaimed calmly, "and I fell asleep in the chair by the side of the bed--he must have arisen and gone to his desk, for I was awakened by a fall, and saw him lying on the floor. I was so startled that I cried out and you came up--I know nothing more." Owing to the remedies which Dr. Nestley was applying, the sick man now revived, and moaned feebly. Shortly afterwards, opening his eyes he stared wildly at the figures surrounding his bed, and tried to speak, but seemed unable to make any sound beyond an indistinct murmur. Dr. Larcher came close to the bed, and bending down spoke distinctly and slowly to the dying man. "You are very ill," he said in a pitying voice. "I hope you have made your peace with heaven." With a superhuman effort Garsworth raised himself on his elbow, and stretching out his hand pointed to the desk. "In there," he gasped. "Blake--there." The effort was too much for him, for with a choking cry he fell back on the bed a corpse.