incident of the melon. But the cousins, who had returned, kept
them informed of the old man's condition. One day, about three
weeks later, Granice, on getting home, found Kate excited over a
report from Wrenfield. The Italian had been there again--had
somehow slipped into the house, made his way up to the library,
and "used threatening language." The house-keeper found cousin
Joseph gasping, the whites of his eyes showing "something awful."
The doctor was sent for, and the attack warded off; and the
police had ordered the Italian from the neighbourhood.

But cousin Joseph, thereafter, languished, had "nerves," and lost
his taste for toast and butter-milk. The doctor called in a
colleague, and the consultation amused and excited the old man--
he became once more an important figure. The medical men
reassured the family--too completely!--and to the patient they
recommended a more varied diet: advised him to take whatever
"tempted him." And so one day, tremulously, prayerfully, he
decided on a tiny bit of melon. It was brought up with ceremony,
and consumed in the presence of the house-keeper and a hovering
cousin; and twenty minutes later he was dead. . .

"But you remember the circumstances," Granice went on; "how
suspicion turned at once on the Italian? In spite of the hint
the police had given him he had been seen hanging about the house
since 'the scene.' It was said that he had tender relations with
the kitchen-maid, and the rest seemed easy to explain. But when
they looked round to ask him for the explanation he was gone--
gone clean out of sight. He had been 'warned' to leave
Wrenfield, and he had taken the warning so to heart that no one
ever laid eyes on him again."