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328 I should have ignored him had I been alone, but Trevatt knew so much of other people's affairs that I rather suspected him of being a gossip, and was anxious accordingly that he should not see any lack of cordiality on my part; for the same reason I was unable to tell Smithson as I should like to have done what I thought of his behaviour as regards Valori. As graciously as I could, then, I invited him to get up behind, and for the sake of appearances exchanged a few commonplace remarks during the short drive. But I felt uncomfortable. Even now I was sure Smithson was lying to me, for he had neither sketch-book, colour-box, nor of the other paraphernalia of the painting artist. It was strange how vividly he always managed to convey the impression that he had something to conceal. Arrived at the cottage, I sent Trevatt off with the telegram, and was taking a very formal farewell of my passenger when "Doctor! Quick! He's dying!" screamed a voice. Mrs. Oakenfall, intensely excited, was calling me. I flew up the red-tiled path, but, seizing my arm, she dragged me from the stairs as I had got my foot upon the first.

"This way—in the garden!" she cried.

At the bottom of the garden, fully-dressed and clutching a hand-bag, the Italian lay prone against the fence which bordered the