"He could not have done that," Jim replied. "In his inmost heart he must have known that your affection was one that could never change."
She shook her head, however.
"Will you take me to him?" she enquired, and Jim, feeling that it would not be wise not to do so, consented to go with her to the Dower House. Side by side they crossed the park by the path they had come to know so well, entered the house by the little postern door, and were met in the hall by the village doctor whom Isaac had summoned.
"My dear Miss Decie," he said as they shook hands, "will you accept my heartfelt sympathy for you in your trouble. I fear it must have been a terrible shock."
"It has affected me more than I can say," she answered. "I had no idea, though I was aware that his heart was in a very weak state, that the end was so near."
"One thing I can tell you if it will make you any happier," said the doctor, "and that is, that I am certain his end was a peaceful and painless one."
Thanking the doctor for his sympathy, Helen left the room and went upstairs to the dead man's bedroom. Jim and the doctor went into the study.
"I suppose it will be necessary to hold an Inquest," said Jim, when they were alone together.
"I am very much afraid so," the doctor replied. "But it will be quite a formal affair. There are two circumstances, however, Mr. Standerton, about the affair, that I must confess puzzle me more than a little."
Jim felt himself turning cold. Had he left anything undone, or had he made any mistake?