IT was arranged between Lord St. Amant and the coroner—who was his lordship's own medical attendant (when he required a medical attendant, which was seldom)—that the inquest should be held at Freshley Manor.

The body had been placed in Mrs. Tropenell's own room, that is, in the very room, as the cook, who had been in the house close on thirty-five years, explained to some of the members of the jury, where poor Mr. Oliver had been born.

So it was there, in that peaceful, old-fashioned, lady's bedchamber, that the twelve good men and true of Pewsbury had to view the body. It was remembered afterwards that the expression on the dead man's face showed how completely he had been taken by surprise: it bore an expression of absolute serenity—almost as if he had died in his sleep.

Rather to the disapproval of some of the Pewsbury people, but with the sympathetic understanding of others, Mrs. Tropenell, by her own desire, was present at the inquest; and, supporting her on the painful occasion, was her nearest neighbour and almost daughter, Mrs. Pavely.

The chief witness was Mr. Robert Buckhurst, the gentleman who had been host to the ill-fated shooting party.

His evidence was quite simple and straightforward—indeed, there was nothing at all strange or mysterious about the sad affair.

"Lord St. Amant shot a bird," he said, "and we hunted for it for some time. We were engaged in beating up the next field, when some one said, 'Where is Tropenell?' Just at that moment I heard a shot." He waited a moment, and then went on: "It sounded as if it were fifty yards away."

Again the witness paused, and then he continued gravely: "I said in jest, 'I hope he has not shot himself!' And Lord St. Amant said, 'Hold my gun, Buckhurst, and I'll walk along behind the hedge, and see if I can find him.' He got through a gap, and he could only have gone a very few yards before we heard him call out. 'Come at once! He's shot!' With this we got through a gap, and ten paces on we saw Mr. Oliver Tropenell lying on his back, parallel with the hedge. The gun was lying across his body, the muzzle towards the hedge. At first we could not find the wound, but soon we discovered that he had been shot through the heart."

In reply to various questions, the witness explained how he raised Mr. Oliver Tropenell's left hand, fancying he could detect a slight flutter of the pulse. He called out for Dr. Turner, who happened to be a member of the party. That gentleman came up, and after a brief examination, said that Mr. Tropenell was certainly dead. The charge had gone through the heart, and death must have been practically instantaneous. Some one, probably the keeper, opened the breech of Mr. Tropenell's gun, and found that the cartridge in the right-hand chamber had been exploded.

At this point, in answer to a word from a juryman, Mr. Buckhurst said very decidedly that there could be no doubt at all that the shot had been fired by Mr. Tropenell's own gun. If he might venture to give an informal opinion, it was perfectly plain what had happened. The ground was rough just there, and twilight was falling. Without doubt Mr. Tropenell, on getting through the hedge, had stumbled heavily, the gun had fallen forward, and then had occurred one of those accidents which occasionally do happen out shooting, and which no amount of care or experience can prevent.

There was some little doubt as to what had been the exact position of the body, and while this was being discussed every one felt particularly sorry for the dead man's mother.

Following Mr. Buckhurst, Lord St. Amant went into the witness-box, and then some inquisitive juryman asked his lordship a question as to the mental condition of the deceased. In answer to that question, Lord St. Amant explained, with a good deal of emotion, that just before he and Mr. Tropenell had started out on their fatal expedition they had had a pleasant little talk together, during which Mr. Tropenell had seemed particularly well and cheerful. Further, the witness threw in, as an after-thought, the statement that the deceased gentleman had expressed considerable gratification at the fact that his mother, Mrs. Tropenell, and he, Lord St. Amant, had just entered together into an engagement of marriage.

This announcement of a forthcoming alliance which so closely touched the whole neighbourhood naturally overshadowed the rest of the purely formal medical evidence at the inquest. Very soon there remained nothing for the jury to do but to return a verdict of "death by misadventure," and to express the deepest sympathy with Mr. Tropenell's mother.

A great deal of deep, unaffected sympathy, more sincere in this case perhaps than a great deal of the sympathy which is lavished on the bereaved in this world, was felt for Mrs. Tropenell.

Her son had not only been the most devoted and excellent of sons, but he had been such a success, such a man to be proud of! It was also remembered that he had done many a kindly turn to the good folk of Pewsbury in the last eighteen months or so, since he had come home to make the first long stay he had made in their neighbourhood for over ten years. His manner, if reserved, was always kindly and pleasant, without any touch of that patronage which is sometimes irritating in gentlemen of his sort. The townspeople recalled, too, the dead man's intimacy with the late Mr. Godfrey Pavely, and the more sober among them did not fail to remind one another how curious it was that in under a year those two men, still both young as youth is counted nowadays, had been gathered to their fathers.

And then, before Pewsbury had had time to recover from the excitement of poor Oliver Tropenell's tragic end, and from the announcement, given under such painful and dramatic circumstances, of his mother's forthcoming marriage to Lord St. Amant, yet another thrilling sensation was provided for the inhabitants of the little town. This was the surprising news that Mrs. Winslow had married again!

The fortunate man was, it seemed, a certain Mr. Greville Howard, one of the largest subscribers to the Prince of Wales's Hospital Fund, a gentleman, therefore, of evident social standing and wealth.

The ceremony had taken place at St. James's, Piccadilly, in the presence of a few friends of the bridegroom, and the happy pair had gone straight off to Mr. Howard's villa in the South of France. There Harber, Mrs. Winslow's faithful factotum, was to join her mistress as soon as she had made the necessary arrangements for the disposal, by auction, of the furniture at Rosedean. Of that furniture two objects were at the last moment withdrawn from the sale—one was a china cabinet, and the other a rather curious-looking old chandelier, both associated, so it was understood, with the new Mrs. Greville Howard's youth.

The auctioneer regretted these omissions from the catalogue, for by bad luck they were the only objects in the house which a big London dealer had come specially down to see, and for which he had intimated that he was prepared to give a very good price.