'My name is Darcy,' the other replied. 'Besides being Tudor's friend, I
was his physician.'

'Yet even for a physician,' Hugo pursued, 'it seems to me that you have
been able to decide very quickly that your friend and patient is dead. I
have always understood that to say with assurance that death has taken
place means a very careful and thorough examination.'

'You are right,' Darcy agreed, stroking his short, bright, silky beard.
'There is only one absolute proof of death.'

'And that is?'

'Putrefaction. Nevertheless, the inquest will show whether or not I have
been in error.'

'There will have to be an inquest?'

'Certainly. In such a case as this no doctor in his senses would give
his certificate without a post-mortem, and though I am an enthusiast, I
am in my senses, Mr. Hugo.'

'An enthusiast?'

'Let me explain. My friend Tudor was suffering from one of the rarest of
all maladies--malignant disease of the heart. The text-books will tell
you that malignant disease of the heart has probably never been
diagnosed. It is a disease of which there are no symptoms, in which the
patient generally suffers no pain, and for which there is no treatment.