At the head of the stairs he was met by Mrs Matthews. She was dressed in a becoming black frock, and greeted him in a voice rather more fading than usual. She was not a patient of his, because she mistrusted all General Practitioners, but as a man (as she frequently observed) she liked him very well. Now that Gregory Matthews' opposition had been cut short in this summary fashion she was even prepared to accept the doctor as a son-in-law. So there was just a suggestion of sympathetic understanding in the smile she bestowed on him, and she said: “I expect Stella has told you. We can't realise it yet—perhaps mercifully. And yet, when I woke this morning, I had a sort of presentiment. I can hardly describe it, but I think that people who are rather highly-strung, which I'm afraid I am, are more sensitive than others to—what shall I call it?—atmosphere.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied the doctor, who knew her of old.

“It was of course a heart-attack, following on acute indigestion,” stated Mrs Matthews. “My poor brother-in-law was sometimes very headstrong, as I expect you know.”

“Yes,” agreed the doctor, edging his way past her. “Very headstrong, I'm afraid.”

She let him go, and proceeded on her way downstairs while Beecher unlocked the door of Gregory Matthews' room, and ushered the doctor in.

He did not say anything when he saw the body lying on the bed, but bent over it with his brows drawn close. Beecher stood watching him while he made his examination, and presently said: “I suppose it was a natural death, sir?”

Dr Fielding looked up quickly. “Have you any reason to think that it was not?”

“Oh no, sir, only that he does look awful, and his eyes being open like that don't look right, somehow.”

“Is that all! If you take my advice you won't spread that kind of rumour about. It might get you into trouble.” Dr Fielding transferred his attention to the bed again, finished his examination, and straightened himself.