promised to meet Brabazon downstairs at an early hour."
I went back to my own room, where I sat in anxious thought until the time which Brabazon had appointed for us to meet arrived. I then went down to the smokingroom, where I found him.
He looked harassed and ill—no wonder. The subject we had met to discuss was how best the news of their only son's death was to be broken to Lord and Lady Hartmore. The Hartmores' place was situated about a hundred miles away. Brabazon said that there was nothing whatever for it but to telegraph the unhappy circumstance to them.
"And I fear doing so very much," he added, "for Hartmore is not strong: he has a rather dangerous heart affection."
"Don't telegraph," I said, impulsively; "I will go and see them."
"You!" exclaimed Brabazon. "That would be an immense relief. You will know how to break the news in the least startling way. I should recommend you to see Lady Hartmore if possible first—she is a strong-minded woman, and has a fine character. But, at best, the shock will be terrible—it is good of you, Halifax, to undertake so fearful a mission."
"Not at all," I replied. "Will you come with me?"
"I fear I cannot. My wife is very much shaken, and I ought not to leave her with a house full of people."
"I suppose most of your guests will leave to-day?"
"Probably; still, for the time being, they are here. Then there is the inquest, which will most likely take place to-day."
"I was going to propose," I said, "that a post-mortem examination should precede the inquest."
Brabazon raised his brows—he looked annoyed.
"Is that necessary?" he asked—"a postmortem examination will only add needlessly to the sufferings of the unfortunate parents. In this case, surely, the cause of death is clearly defined—fracture of the skull?"
"The cause of death is clearly defined," I answered, "but not the cause of the sudden vertigo."
"The sudden vertigo, according to Carleton's account," corrected Brabazon. He did not say anything further for a moment—nor did I. After a pause, he continued: "As you are good enough to say you will go to Tregunnel, I will ask you to take poor Randall's last letter with you. I went into his room yesterday evening, and found one directed to his mother on the writing-table. She will prize it, of course. Now I had better look up your train."
He did so, and half an hour afterwards I was driving as fast as a pair of horses could take me to the nearest railway station. I caught an early train to Tregunnel, and arrived there between nine and ten that morning. A cab conveyed me to the castle, which stood on a little eminence above the sleepy-looking town.
My errand was, in truth, a gloomy one. During the journey I had made up my mind for every reason to see Lady Hartmore first. When the servant opened the door, I asked for her, and giving the man my card, told him that I wished to see his mistress alone on a matter of urgent importance. I was shown into a morning-room, and in a very short time Lady Hartmore came in. She was a tall, fine-looking woman, with a likeness to her dead son about her kindly, well-opened eyes and pleasant mouth.
My name and the message I had sent to her by the servant naturally startled her. She gave me a keen glance when she entered the room, which I returned with interest. I saw at once that her heart was strong enough, her nature brave enough, to stand the full weight of the terrible calamity without breaking down.
"I have come to see you on a most painful matter," I began at once. "I am just now visiting the Brabazons at Penporran."
"Then it is something about my son," she exclaimed, instantly. Her face grew very pale; she pressed her hand to her left side, and looked hurriedly towards the door.
"Lord Hartmore may come in, if you are not quick," she said. "He was in the breakfast-room when the servant brought me your card and message. Please tell what you have got to say at once—I can bear a shock, but he cannot."
Poor wife! poor mother! Her eyes looked at me with dumb entreaty, while her lips uttered the words of courage.
"Women like you, Lady Hartmore," I could not help uttering, impulsively, "are always brave. It is my terrible mission to inflict a great blow upon you—your son has met with an accident."
"Is he dead?" she asked. She came close to me as she spoke, her voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper.
