"That is strange," said Marsh thoughtfully. "He usually keeps his mouth very much closed. However," he added in a lighter tone, "we can talk of him again. At present, we will speak of the will. I have written to my uncle's solicitors informing them of his terrible death. I expect to hear from them to-morrow or the next day--perhaps later." "Who are your uncle's lawyers--or rather I should say yours?" "Frith and Frith!" "Of Steel Lane. Cheapside?" asked Herrick in a tone of surprise. "Yes! Do you know them?" "I know of them. They are the solicitors of my friend Joyce!" "That is strange," said Marsh gaily, "the world is very small after all is it not. But I am forgetting my mother," he added sadly. "I was told that Mrs. Marsh was your step-mother." "So she is; but we get on very well together. She is devoted to me. I expect you have heard of her violent temper." "Well I have," said Herrick hesitating, "it seems to be well known, if you will excuse my saying so." "Oh, it's Town talk," replied Stephen with a vexed flush, "but she is really a good dear woman, and her own worst enemy. Since my father's death five years ago she has been my best friend. Once she nursed me through a most serious illness. There are worse women in the world than my step-mother Herrick, as you will find. She is a noble-looking woman, and I am glad to be rich if only for her sake. She is fond of luxury, but for my sake has borne poverty. And we have been very, very poor," finished Stephen with a sigh. Every word the young man uttered revealed his good heart. Jim was pleased to find such an unsophisticated youth for once in his life. The young men he knew were usually old before their time, and took a pride in being so. But Marsh talked with such candour, that Herrick saw he was as simple as the day. "You are a good fellow Marsh," said Jim. "I am glad to have met you." "I echo your compliment," said the other, "but here we are at Beorminster. I hope my mother is no worse." The vehicle stopped at the foot of the hill upon which the cathedral was built. Herrick followed his companion up a winding street, as steep as those at Malta, and after a breathless climb found himself in the great square. The vast fabric of the cathedral rose black against a saffron sky, and the bells were ringing for the evening service. Stephen led the way towards a far corner of the square, and turned into a dingy side street sloping down the other side of the hill. Stopping at a tall narrow house three doors down, he admitted himself by means of his latch-key and conducted his companion into a dark passage. A woman with a candle held high above her head appeared at the end. She was very old, with white hair and fierce black eyes, a foreigner, as Herrick guessed. "How is my mother, Petronella?" asked Stephen hurriedly. "Eh Gran' Dio, bad, very bad Signor," replied the old Italian, "she die if no doctor come!" "I have brought one, Petronella."