"I don't require it," she replied coldly. "I'm used to the atmosphere of this house. You are not." "It's like a charnel-house," he said, with a look of disgust. "Well, I've done my part of the affair. Now, all you've got to do is to swear Reginald is Fanny Blake's son. I'll leave it to your ingenuity to tell a good story." "You can be certain of that," she replied coldly. "I've done with all scruples, and since it is to enrich my son, you may be sure I will do my best. And now I suppose in order to avert all suspicion, you'd better see Miss Una." "Yes, of course. I want to return her these keys," he replied, jingling the bunch. "If any questions are asked, of course you can swear I have not been out of the room. But I don't think you need be afraid, everything will go quite smooth. There is a strong motive." "And the motive?" "Una's love for Reginald. Now go and tell her I am here." When Patience left the room on her errand he dusted his boots with his handkerchief, pulled down his shirt-cuffs and settled his tie and hair in the mirror over the fireplace. By the time Patience returned he had quite recovered his nonchalant manner, and was humming a tune when she entered. "Well?" he asked, facing round. "It's all right. She will see you," replied the housekeeper, and, catching up his hat and stick, Beaumont followed her along the passage to the oak parlour. Una and Miss Cassy, both in deep mourning, were seated at the breakfast-table when he entered, and as the door closed on Patience, he apologised for disturbing them. "Of course I would not have thought of intruding on your grief," he said, in a courtly manner, "but the fact is, Miss Challoner, I have a message for you from Doctor Nestley." "Ah, poor, dear doctor," whimpered Miss Cassy, dabbing her red eye-lids with a pocket handkerchief. "He's gone away--so very odd." "I don't think so, aunt," observed Una quietly. "He had done all he could for my poor cousin, and now it would be merely wasting his time for him to remain. What is the message, Mr. Beaumont?" "Just to give you these keys," he said, handing the bunch to her. "They belonged to the squire, and Nestley picked them up after the death, intending to give them to you, only he forgot all about them till it was too late, so asked me to bring them to you." Una took the keys with a grave bow. "Thank you very much, Mr. Beaumont," she said, putting them in her pocket. "It was very kind of you to bring them. I trust Doctor Nestley is well?" Beaumont shrugged his shoulders, the meaning of which action she understood with feminine quickness. "Let us hope he will be quite well when he returns home," she said with emphasis, her colour rising. "I am truly sorry for him. Where did he contract this unfortunate habit?"