'Was? Where is he?'
'My dear, he's dead. Your boy is the Marquis now.'
'Dead?--dead?--dead? My James--dead?'
'He died on the day following that on which you saw him last.'
'Died? He died? And--you knew it?'
'I did not know that you were his wife; or, indeed, that he had a wife at all, until just now.'
'And--he knew it?'
'Mr. Howarth knew that the late Marquis was dead; whether he knew that he was your husband is another matter. My dear, you must judge him leniently. When you know the whole strange story you will think better of us all than you may be disposed to do at present.'
'You say--my James is dead? Then--he killed him?'
'Hush! You mustn't utter such wild words; you mustn't think such dreadful thoughts. Your husband died in his bed--in my presence, and in the presence of other persons, among whom were two doctors.'