she and Pigott, who was undressing her--for she was wearied out--were
weeping. She did not appear surprised at his appearance; the shock of
the old man's death extinguished all surprise. It was he who broke the
silence.

"He is dead," he said.

"Yes, I have heard."

"If you are at liberty for a few minutes, I wish to talk to you," he
said savagely.

"I, too," she answered, "have something to say, but I am too weary and
upset to say it now. I will see you to-morrow."

He turned and went without answering, and Pigott noticed that no kiss
or word of endearment passed between them, and that the tone of their
words was cold.

Soon after Philip got downstairs the doctor came. Philip met him in
the hall and accompanied him into the study, where the body was. He
made a rapid examination, more as a matter of form than anything else,
for his first glance had told him that life was extinct.

"Quite dead," he said sorrowfully; "my old friend gone at last. One of
a fine sort too; a just man for all his temper. They called him
'devil,' and he was fierce when he was younger, but if I never meet a
worse devil than he was I shall do well. He was very kind to me once--
very. How did he go?--in pain, I fear."