hould know," said the doctor. "Let the dead bury his
dead."

"Is he dead, then?"

"Before the Squire married again," said the doctor, "the poor boy went
straight to the dogs, and they made an end of him. There! let's talk of
something else. I don't know why I tell you what has never passed my
lips for twenty years."

"I wish you hadn't," said Mr Armstrong shortly, whipping up his horses.

The two men remained silent during most of that cold, laborious journey.
The doctor's few attempts at conversation fell flat, and he took refuge
finally in his pipe. As for the tutor, he had his hands full, steering
his team between the lane-side ditches, and thinking of the wrecked life
that lay waiting at the journey's end.

It was nearly ten o'clock before the dim lights of Maxfield Manor showed
ahead. The snow on the home-drive was undisturbed by the wheels of any
other vehicle. The mother and son had not returned, at any rate, yet.

As the two men entered, the hall was full of scared domestics, talking
in undertones, and feeding on the occasional bulletin which the
privileged Raffles was permitted to carry from the sick-room to the
outer world.

At the sight of the doctor and Mr Armstrong, they sneaked off
grudgingly to their own territories, leaving Raffles to escort the
gentlemen to the scene of the tragedy.

Old Roger Ingleton lay on the sofa, with eyes half-closed, upturned to
the ceiling; alive still, but no more. Cups and wine-glasses on the
table near told of the housekeeper's fruitless experiments at
restoration, and the inflamed countenance of that ministering angel
herself spoke ominously of the four hours during which the sufferer's
comfort had been under her charge.

The tutor, after satisfying himself that his mission had not been too
late, retired to the fireplace, where he leaned dismally, and watched
through his eye-glass the doctor's examination.

After a few minutes, the latter walked across to him.

"Did you say Mrs Ingleton and the boy will not be back till the
morning?"

"Probably not."

"If so, they will be too late; he will not last the night."

"I will fetch them," said Mr Armstrong quietly.

"Good fellow! you are having a night of it. I shall remain here; so you
can take whichever of my horses you like. The mare will go best."

"Thanks!" said the tutor, pulling himself together for this new task.

Before he quitted the room, he stepped up to the couch and bent for a
moment ov