Before Petronella could recover her breath for another howl, she found herself on one of the dining-room chairs with Marsh standing over her. The young man was so shaken that he could hardly speak. The prophecy of Sidney, the hurried journey to Beorminster on a grocer's cart which he had met near Saxham, and now the terrible confirmation of the death; these things shook him to the soul. He hardly recognised his own voice. "Tell me everything that happened," he said slowly, "do not make any mistake. I must know all." Petronella crossed herself. "Holy Virgin," she muttered, "his eyes are like coals." Then after a muffled wail, she burst out into rapid Italian which Stephen understood easily from his habit of talking to her and to Mrs. Marsh. "After you left at mid-day Signor Stephano, the padrona tried to get a little sleep. When the postman came at two o'clock, he brought one letter for her. I took it up, and woke her. Then I went out of the room. In a quarter of an hour the Signora called me. She looked white, so white. The letter was before her. She told me to give her the chloral as she wanted to sleep. I asked her if she had bad news in the letter. She said no, but that she felt suddenly sick. I gave her the medicine in the little bottle, and went away. She took some I think, for when I went up again an hour later she was asleep. I went again and again--she was still asleep. Then I took up her tea, and wanted to waken her. Gran' Dio--she was dead--dead!" "What time was that Petronella?" "At half past five Signor, the hour when I always take up the Signora's tea. Oh, she is dead and I nursed her. Cursed be it that I live still." While the old woman wailed on, Stephen shuddered. The hour was that which Sidney had named. "Are you sure she died at that time?" he asked. "Quite sure Signor Stephano. When I went in before she was only asleep; I saw her breathing. I was up at a quarter past five and she still breathed, and had a colour in her poor cheek. When I set down the tray I turned to see that she was quite still, her face pale as snow. I put my hand to her heart. She was dead. Ah Dio mio, she must have passed away when I entered the room. I heard a sigh at the door," said Petronella beginning to embellish. "It was her spirit that passed. What could I do but open the window to let the soul go free? Ah Holy Virgin!" and the old woman crossed herself again. By this time Stephen had somewhat recovered his composure. Without a word he went up to the room. Petronella had drawn a sheet over the dead. He drew it down gently, and saw the waxen face beneath. Every wrinkle had been smoothed away, and there rested a peaceful expression on that once stormy countenance. As Marsh stood tearlessly looking at the dead, he heard a light step enter the room. Herrick appeared, almost as pale as the dead woman. After a glance at the corpse, he recognised that all was over, and looked at Marsh with a shudder.