with a beautiful wife is he dead?"

"Oh, yes--quite suddenly! He was down in Scotland, on the moors. Some
people say there is something wrong about it."

"Indeed--ha!" said Mr Marvale. "What--what do they say?"

"He was found dead in a shooting-box. His gun had gone off and killed
him; but"--

I looked at the man's face. He was trying to appear as if he scarcely
attended to what she was saying.

"Some of the friends are not quite satisfied that it was accidental,"
continued Sibylla. "How I pity poor Mrs Mopple."

"Pray, Sibylla," I said, "what was the poor woman's Christian name?"

"Her name was Isabella."

"So!" I said, and looked firmly at Mr Marvale. "Do you hear that, sir?
Her name was Isabella."

"Isabella, or the Fatal Marriage--a good thing in its time, but out of
fashion now," he answered. "A curious fact, there is an incident of
precisely the same kind, of which I claim the credit."

"Of what kind, sir?" I said. "Take care what you say."

"Oh, it's no secret! Mr Edwards and I concocted it between us; that is