"Oh yes. Her husband was a dear friend of mine. We were like--" Mr. North hesitated, but brought the suggestive word out, as he had led to it--"like brothers."
"Was there anything peculiar in his death?" asked Mr. Castlemaine. "Madame Guise seems to shrink so much from all mention of the subject that we can hardly help fancying there was: and it is a topic that we cannot question her upon. He died suddenly, she said one day, when some allusion was made to him, and that is all we know. Mrs. Castlemaine observed that she shivered perceptibly as she said it.
"That is what I heard--that he died suddenly," assented Mr. North. "I was roaming about Italy at the time, and did not know of it for some months afterwards. Madame Guise had left for England then. I procured her address; and, being so near, called to see her yesterday."
Mr. Castlemaine slightly nodded--as if this part scarcely needed explanation. "Then you do not know what Monsieur Guise died of, Mr. North? She has not told you?"
"No, she has not. I do not know what he died of. They were very much attached to one another, and her avoidance of the subject may be perhaps natural. He was an estimable young man, and my very good and dear friend."
Thus talking, the fields were traversed and they gained the road. Here their routes lay in opposite directions: that of the Master of Greylands and Ethel to the right, Mr. North's to the left. He was returning to the Dolphin before starting on his walk to Stilborough.
"You are staying at the inn, I presume," observed Mr. Castlemaine to him.
"Yes, I am comfortable there, and the charges are very moderate. I called for my bill this morning."
"Called for your bill! Are you going away?"
"Only to come back again this afternoon. I left my portmanteau and pencils at Stilborough."