"The old General dead!" echoed Vivien in astonishment. "But he was not even ill. His son has been here this morning and said he was very well."
"He had a shock, and he died on the spot. Heart failure, I suppose. You are needed up there, Vivien. I want you to go to-day."
Vivien looked at him questioningly, and seemed to shrink.
"But I don't know Miss Mackinnon, Peter. I've never even seen her. She has shown us very plainly that she does not wish to know us."
"That is of no consequence. This sorrow lifts the things above all such considerations. She is a woman in need--a woman suffering acutely and terribly, and she is almost utterly alone. If mother were able she would go--you know that. You must take her place. May I go back now and order a trap."
"There is plenty of time, Peter," she said, visibly shrinking yet. "It is never quite dark in these long, delightful days. Tell me what happened. Were you there with her when her father died?"
Rosmead briefly explained how the death had occurred.
"And she thinks that it was the letter that killed him? How strange and sad! Did she give you no inkling as to what it contained?"
"No. But I have my own opinion--or rather suspicions. It has something to do with her brother. As I left the house and he entered it I heard her call him a murderer."
"Oh, how dreadful and how unlikely!" cried Vivien in deepening bewilderment. "Malcolm Mackinnon does not strike one at all as that sort of person. He is so transparent--just like a big, jolly schoolboy. I like him so much."