Oh, my lord,' with a sudden burst of sobbing, 'I'm afraid he's dead.'
'Mary, despatch some one for Horton,' said Lord Hartfield. Keeping his
wife back with one hand, he closed the door against her, and then
followed Mrs. Steadman through the long low corridor to her husband's
sitting-room.
James Steadman was lying upon his back upon the hearth, near the spot
were Lord Hartfield had seen him sleeping in his arm-chair a month ago.
One look at the distorted face, dark with injected blood, the dreadful
glassy glare of the eyes, the foam-stained lips, told that all was over.
The faithful servant had died at his post. Whatever his charge had been,
his term of service was ended. There was a vacancy in Lady Maulevrier's
household.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE DAY OF RECKONING.
Lord Hartfield stayed with the frightened wife while she knelt beside
that awful figure on the hearth, wringing her hands with piteous
bewailings and lamentations over the unconscious clay. He had always
been a good husband to her, she murmured; hard and stern perhaps, but a
good man.
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