he said to Mr. Westwick
politely. 'I wish you good evening.'
Henry turned to Mrs. Ferrari as the
lawyer closed the door.
'I have heard of your trouble, Emily, from Miss Lockwood. Is there
anything I can do to help you?'
'Nothing, sir, thank you. Perhaps, I had better go home after
what has happened? I will call to-morrow, and see if I can be of
any use to Miss Agnes. I am very sorry for her.' She stole away,
with her
formalcurtsey, her noiseless step, and her obstinate
resolution to take the gloomiest view of her husband's case.
Henry Westwick looked round him in the
solitude of the little
drawing-room.
There was nothing to keep him in the house, and yet he lingered in it.
It was something to be even near Agnes--to see the things belonging
to her that were scattered about the room. There, in the corner,
was her chair, with her
embroidery on the work-table by its side.
On the little easel near the window was her last
drawing, not quite
finished yet. The book she had been
reading lay on the sofa,
with her tiny pencil-case in it to mark the place at which she
had left off. One after another, he looked at the objects that
reminded him of the woman whom he loved--took them up tenderly--
and laid them down again with a sigh. Ah, how far, how unattainably
far from him, she was still! 'She will never forget Montbarry,'
he thought to himself as he took up his hat to go. 'Not one of us
feels his death as she feels it. Miserable,
miserable wretch--how she
loved him!'
In the street, as Henry closed the house-door, he was stopped
by a passing
acquaintance--a wearisome
inquisitive man--
doubly
unwelcome to him, at that moment. 'Sad news, Westwick,
this about your brother. Rather an
unexpected death, wasn't it?
We never heard at the club that Montbarry's lungs were weak.
What will the insurance offices do?'
Henry started; he had never thought of his brother's life insurance.
What could the offices do but pay? A death by bronchitis, certified by
two
physicians, was surely the least disputable of all deaths. 'I wish
you hadn't put that question into my head!' he broke out irritably.
'Ah!' said his friend, 'you think the widow will get the money?
So do I! so do I!'
CHAPTER VII
Some days later, the insurance offices (two in number)
received the
formalannouncement of Lord Montbarry's death,
from her ladyship's London solicitors. The sum insured in each
office was five thousand pounds--on which one year's
premium only
had been paid. In the face of such a pecuniary
emergency as this,
the Directors thought it
desirable to consider their position.
The
medical advisers of the two offices, who had recommended
the insurance of Lord Montbarry's life, were called into council
over their own reports. The result excited some interest
among persons connected with the business of life insurance.
Without
absolutely declining to pay the money, the two offices
(
acting in concert)
decided on sending a
commission of
inquiryto Venice, 'for the purpose of obtaining further information.'
Mr. Troy received the earliest
intelligence of what was going on.
He wrote at once to
communicate his news to Agnes; adding, what he
considered to be a
valuable hint, in these words:
'You are
intimatelyacquainted, I know, with Lady Barville, the late
Lord Montbarry's
eldest sister. The solicitors employed by her
husband are also the solicitors to one of the two insurance offices.
There may possibly be something in the report of the
commissionof
inquirytouching on Ferrari's
disappearance. Ordinary persons
would not be permitted, of course, to see such a document.
But a sister of the late lord is so near a
relative as to be an exception
to general rules. If Sir Theodore Barville puts it on that footing,
the
lawyers, even if they do not allow his wife to look at the report,
will at least answer any
discreet questions she may ask referring
to it. Let me hear what you think of this
suggestion, at your
earliest convenience.'
The reply was received by return of post. Agnes declined to avail
herself of Mr. Troy's proposal.
'My
interference,
innocent as it was,' she wrote, 'has already