ire dies, is entitled to the money.
This man has spent the greater part of his life in Australia, is badly
off, and evidently belongs to a rowdy set. He has been to see me two or
three times, and I must say frankly that I am not taken with his
appearance."

"Had he anything to do with the death?" I interrupted.

"Nothing whatever, as you will quickly perceive. Wentworth has been
accustomed from time to time to go alone on sketching tours to different
parts of the country. He has tramped about on foot, and visited odd,
out-of-the-way nooks searching for subjects. He never took much money
with him, and always travelled as an apparently poor man. A month ago he
started off alone on one of these tours. He had a handsome commission
from Barlow & Co., picture-dealers in the Strand. He was to paint
certain parts of the river Merran; and although he certainly did not
need money, he seemed glad of an object for a good ramble. He parted
with his family in the best of health and spirits, and wrote to them
from time to time; but a week ago they heard the news that he had died
suddenly at an inn on the Merran. There was, of course, an inquest and
an autopsy. Dr. Miles Gordon, the Wentworths' consulting physician, was
telegraphed for, and was present at the post-mortem examination. He is
absolutely puzzled to account for the death. The medical examination
showed Wentworth to be in apparently perfect health at the time. There
was no lesion to be discovered upon which to base a different opinion,
all the organs being healthy. Neither was there any trace of poison, nor
marks of violence. The coroner's verdict was that Wentworth died of
syncope, which, as you know perhaps, is a synonym for an unknown cause.
The inn where he died is a very lonely one, and has the reputation of
being haunted. The landlord seems to bear a bad character, although
nothing has ever been proved against him. But a young girl who lives at
the inn gave evidence which at first startled every one. She said at the
inquest that she had earnestly warned Wentworth not to sleep in the
haunted room. She had scarcely told the coroner so before she fell to
the floor in an epileptic fit. When she came to herself she was sullen
and silent, and nothing more could be extracted from her. The old man,
the innkeeper, explained that the girl was half-witted, but he did not
attempt to deny that the house had the reputation of being haunted, and
said that he had himself begged Wentw