o crown this day, already the whitest of his life.
He tore the paper open and read it by the red sunset light, hotly
reflected from a wilderness of tiles.

He read it twice--thrice--caught at the window-frame to steady himself,
and stood staring vaguely at the smoke which curled upward from a
neighboring chimney. He was stunned. The words seemed to have a meaning
and no meaning. "This is not how people receive news of death, surely?"
he thought. "I suppose I am in my right senses, or is it a dream?"

He made a strong effort to regain his self-command, but all certainties
eluded him. This was not the first time that he had taken up a telegram
and believed that he read the tidings of Sissy's death. He had
misunderstood it now as then. It could not be. But why could he not
wake?

"Ashendale." Yes, he remembered Ashendale. He had ridden past the ruins
the last day he ever rode with Sissy, the day that Horace came home. It
belonged to the Latimers--to Walter Latimer. And Sissy was dying at
Ashendale!

All at once he knew that it was no dream. But the keen edge of pain
awoke him to the thought of what he had to do, and sent him to hunt
among a heap of papers for a time-table. He drew a long breath. The
express started at 10.5, and it was now but twenty minutes past eight.

He caught up his hat and hurried to the office. Mr. Ferguson, who seldom
left much before that time, was on the doorstep. While he was getting
into his dog-cart Percival hastily explained that he had been summoned
on a matter of life and death. "Sorry to hear it," said the lawyer as he
took the reins--"hope you may find things better than you expect. We
shall see you again when you come back." And with a nod he rattled down
the street. Percival stood on the pavement gazing after him, when he
suddenly remembered that he had no money. "I might have asked him to
give me my half week's salary," he reflected. "Not that that would have
paid my fare."

A matter of life and death! Sissy waiting for him at Ashendale, and no
money to pay for a railway-ticket! It would have been absurd if it had
not been horrible. What had he to sell or pawn? By the time he could go
to Bellevue street and return would not the shops be shut? It was a
quarter to nine already. He did not even know where any pawnbroker
lived, nor what he could take to him, and the time was terribly short.
He was hurrying homeward while these thoughts passed through his mind
when Judith's words came