There was no need for an inquest; the great physician who had been in
attendance, quite vainly, was prepared to certify to the cause of
death, and Stafford's feelings were spared thus far. Someone high in
authority suggested the idea of a public funeral, through Howard, whom
alone Stafford saw, but Stafford declined the honour, and the first
Earl of Highcliffe was carried to his last rest as quietly as
circumstances would permit.

The press and the men of the city, with whom the dead man had worked,
kept silence about the catastrophe that had happened until after the
funeral; then rumours arose, at first in whispers and then more loudly,
and paragraphs and leaderettes appeared in the papers hinting at
something wrong in connection with Lord Highcliffe's last great scheme,
and calling for an enquiry.

The morning after the funeral, Howard found Stafford sitting in a
darkened room of the great house, his head in his hand, a morning paper
lying open on the table before him. He raised his white and haggard
face as Howard entered and took his friend's hand in silence. Howard
glanced at the paper and bit his lip.

"Yes," said Stafford, "I have been reading this. You have seen it?"

Howard nodded.

"You know what it means? I want you to tell me. I have been putting off
the question day by day, selfishly; I could not face it until--until he
was buried. But I can put it off no longer; I must know now. What was
that cablegram which they brought him just before--which you tried to
keep from him?"