eld, knowing that his
daughter was here, do you see, sought her out and told her all about it.
She came to me and asked me if I knew where they could get rooms. Well
now, I had my drawing-room floor empty that week, and as it was only for
two or three days that they wanted rooms I offered to take Mr. Chatfield
and the young man in. Of course, if I'd known how ill he was, I
shouldn't. What I understood--and mind you, I don't say they wilfully
deceived me, for I don't think they did--what I understood was that the
young man simply wanted a real good rest. But he was evidently a deal
worse than what even Dr. Valdey thought. He'd stopped at Dr. Valdey's
surgery while Mr. Chatfield went to see about rooms, and they moved him
from there straight in here. And as I say, he was a deal worse than they
thought, much worse, and the doctor had to be fetched to him more than
once during the afternoon. Still Dr. Valdey himself never said to me that
there was any immediate danger. But that's neither here nor there--the
young fellow died that night."

"That night!" exclaimed Gilling, "the night he came here?"

"Very same night," assented Mrs. Salmon. "Brought in here about two in
the afternoon and died just before midnight--soon after Miss Chatfield
came in from the theatre. Went very suddenly at the end."

"Were you present?" asked Copplestone.

"I wasn't. Nobody was with him but Mr. Chatfield--Miss Chatfield was
getting her supper down here," replied Mrs. Salmon. "And I was busy
elsewhere."

"Was there an inquest then, inquired Gilling?"

"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Salmon, shaking her head. "Oh, no!--there was no need
for that--the doctor, ye see, had been seeing him all day. Oh, no--the
cause of death was evident enough, in a way of speaking. Heart."

"Did they bury him here, then?" asked Gilling.

"Two days after," replied Mrs. Salmon. "Kept everything very quiet, they
did. I don't believe Miss Chatfield told any of the theatre people--she
went to her work just the same, of course. The old gentleman saw to
everything--funeral and all. I'll say this for them.--they gave me no
unnecessary trouble, but still, there's trouble that is necessary when
you've death in a house and a funeral at the door, and they ought to have
given me something for what I did. But they didn't, so I considered it
very mean. Mr. Chatfield, he stayed two days after the funeral, and when
he left he just said that his daughter would settle up with me. But when