then he said, in a terse voice:--

"Perhaps you will advise me what to do after you know the nature of the
malady which afflicts me. First of all, however, I wish to speak of
my wife."

"I am ready to listen," I replied.

"You see," he continued, "that she is very delicate?"

"Yes," I replied; "to be frank with you, I should say that Lady Studley
was consumptive."

He started when I said this, and pressed his lips firmly together. After
a moment he spoke.

"You are right," he replied. "I had her examined by a medical man--Sir
Joseph Dunbar--when I was last in London; he said her lungs were
considerably affected, and that, in short, she was far from well."

"Did he not order you to winter abroad?"

"He did, but Lady Studley opposed the idea so strenuously that I was
obliged to yield to her entreaties. Consumption does not seem to take
quite the ordinary form with her. She is restless, she longs for cool
air, she goes out on quite cold days, in a closed carriage, it is true.
Still, except at night, she does not regard herself in any sense as an
invalid. She has immense spirit--I think she will keep up until
she dies."

"You speak of her being an invalid at night," I replied. "What are her
symptoms?"

Sir Henry shuddered quite visibly.

"Oh, those awful nights!" he answered. "How happy would many poor mortals
be, but for the terrible time of darkness. Lady Studley has had dreadful
nights for some time: perspirations, cough, restlessness, bad dreams,
and all the rest of it. But I must hasten to tell you my story quite
briefly. In the beginning of October we saw Sir Joseph Dunbar. I should
then, by his advice, have taken Lady Studley to the Riviera, but she
opposed the idea with such passion and distress, that I abandoned it."

Sir Henry paused here, and I looked at him attentively. I remembered at
that moment what Lady Studley had said about her husband refusing to
leave the Grange under any circumstances. What a strange game of
cross-purposes these two were playing. How was it possible for me to get
at the truth?

"At my wife's earnest request," continued Sir Henry, "we returned to the
Grange. She declared her firm intention of remaining here until
she died.

"Soon after our return she suggested that we should occupy separate
rooms at night, reminding me, when she made the request, of the
infectious nature of consumption. I complied with her wish on condition
that I slept in the room next hers, and that