The man's death sealed her doom. She had made that entirely plain to me. I now distinguished that her dress was dusty, her dark hair slightly dishevelled, and she bore traces of long travel. She had evidently, on arrival from the Continent, come straight from Charing Cross out to Shepherd's Bush. Therefore, by some secret means, she knew of Massari's intention of hiding himself at Mrs Gilbert's. "You do not reply," she said, in a voice full of reproach. "Do you really refuse to render me assistance, sir? Remember, I am a helpless woman who begs her life of you. You have seen and spoken with that man. Where is he now?" For a moment I hesitated. Then seeing that she must sooner or later know the truth I drew my breath and said:-- "Come, follow me." And opening the door we ascended the stairs. "Ah!" she cried excitedly. "He is still here! That woman lied when she told me he had gone, eh? He is still in the house!" I made no reply, but went on, she following closely behind. Then a few moments later, having gained the top landing, I threw open the door of the darkened chamber of death and drew aside the curtains. She dashed to the bed and tore the sheet from the dead, white face. Then she staggered back as though she had received a blow. "My God!" she cried. "Too late!--_too late_!" Dull, dazed, she stood there, with the stare of blank despair in her eyes and pale as ashes. The dead white face seemed to wear a smile--the smile of cheerful resignation, as though his body had parted with its spirit in gladness and in triumph. For a little while she stood stock-still and speechless--the living dead! Suddenly--ah! it is nothing in the telling; one should have heard and seen to realise--suddenly there welled up from the depths of her heart the sigh of its aching, the sob of its breaking. Then she shrieked with the ghastly laughter of despair. Then she lashed out to a cursing of the dead man and all his deeds; and her execrations were the most shocking because they proceeded from the tongue of a sweet-mouthed woman. Of a sudden her eyes fell upon the stranger's two portmanteaux, and dashing across she knelt to open them. "No," I said quietly, "I cannot permit you to touch anything there." "You cannot permit--_you_!" she cried, facing me. "And who, pray, are you? Have I not more right to know what he has here than you?" And with a sudden wrench she broke the hasp of the weak, foreign-made lock, and next instant turned the whole of the contents, clothes and papers, out upon the floor. Quickly she searched among the quantity of papers, as though looking for something. Yet she was disappointed. I took up several of the folded documents and found that they were bonds and other securities. It almost seemed as though the mysterious Massari had fled at an instant's warning and taken all the valuables he had at hand.