The message was in these words:

'Lady Montbarry, Venice. To Stephen Robert Westwick,
Newbury's Hotel, London. It is useless to take the journey.
Lord Montbarry died of bronchitis, at 8.40 this evening.
All needful details by post.'

'Was this expected, sir?' the lawyer asked.

'I cannot say that it has taken us entirely by surprise, Henry answered.
'My brother Stephen (who is now the head of the family) received a
telegram three days since, informing him that alarming symptoms had
declared themselves, and that a second physician had been called in.
He telegraphed back to say that he had left Ireland for London,
on his way to Venice, and to direct that any further message
might be sent to his hotel. The reply came in a second telegram.
It announced that Lord Montbarry was in a state of insensibility,
and that, in his brief intervals of consciousness, he recognised nobody.
My brother was advised to wait in London for later information.
The third telegram is now in your hands. That is all I know, up to the
present time.'

Happening to look at the courier's wife, Mr. Troy was struck
by the expression of blank fear which showed itself in the woman's face.

'Mrs. Ferrari,' he said, 'have you heard what Mr. Westwick has
just told me?'

'Every word of it, sir.'