e call it--positive determination of blood to the head, occasioned by a
low way he got into, just before his attack--a confirmed case of
hypochondriasis, as that _ould_ book Sir Piers was so fond of terms the
blue devils. He neglected the bottle, which, in a man who has been a
hard drinker all his life, is a bad sign. The lowering system never
answers--never. Doctor, I'll just trouble you"--for Small, in a fit of
absence, had omitted to pass the bottle, though not to help himself.
"Had he stuck to _this_"--holding up a glass, ruby bright--"the elixir
vitae--the grand panacea--he might have been hale and hearty at this
present moment, and as well as any of us. But he wouldn't be advised. To
my thinking, as that was the case, he'd have been all the better for a
little of your reverence's sperretual advice; and his conscience having
been relieved by confession and absolution, he might have opened a fresh
account with an aisy heart and clane breast."

"I trust, sir," said Small, gravely withdrawing his pipe from his lips,
"that Sir Piers Rookwood addressed himself to a higher source than a
sinning creature of clay like himself for remission of his sins; but, if
there was any load of secret guilt that might have weighed heavy upon
his conscience, it is to be regretted that he refused the last offices
of the church, and died incommunicate. I was denied all admittance to
his chamber."

"Exactly my case," said Mr. Coates, pettishly. "I was refused entrance,
though my business was of the utmost importance--certain
dispositions--special bequests--matter connected with his sister--for
though the estate is entailed, yet still there are charges--you
understand me--very strange to refuse to see _me_. Some people may
regret it--may live to regret it, I say--that's all. I've just sent up
a package to Lady Rookwood, which was not to be delivered till after Sir
Piers's death. Odd circumstance that--been in my custody a long
while--some reason to think Sir Piers meant to alter his will--ought to
have seen _me_--sad neglect!"

"More's the pity. But it was none of poor Sir Piers's doing!" replied
Titus; "he had no will of his own, poor fellow, during his life, and the
devil a will was he likely to have after his death. It was all Lady
Rookwood's doing," added he, in a whisper. "I, his medical adviser and
confidential friend, was ordered out of the room; and, although I knew
it was as much as his life was worth to leave him for a moment in