“I follow you,” said Marsham to Sir James.  “There is a great deal to do.”

Chide assented coldly.  “I have written to Broadstone, and I have sent a preliminary statement to the papers.”

“I can take anything you want to town,” said Marsham, hastily.  “I must go up this evening.”

He handed Broadstone’s telegram to Sir James.

Chide read it and returned it in silence.  Then he entered the ambulance, taking his seat beside the shrouded form within.  Slowly it drove away, mounted police accompanying it.  It took a back way from Beechcote, thus avoiding the crowd, which on the village side had gathered round the gates.

Diana, on the steps, saw it go, following it with her eyes; standing very white and still.  Then Marsham lifted his hat to her, conscious through every nerve of the curiosity among the little group of people standing by.  Suddenly, he thought, she too divined it.  For she looked round her, bowed to him slightly, and disappeared with Mrs. Colwood.

* * * * *

He spent two or three hours at Lytchett, making the first arrangements for the funeral, with Sir James.  It was to be at Tallyn, and the burial in the churchyard of the old Tallyn church.  Sir James gave a slow and grudging assent to this; but in the end he did assent, after the relations between him and Marsham had become still more strained.

Further statements were drawn up for the newspapers.  As the afternoon wore on the grounds and hall of Lytchett betrayed the presence of a number of reporters, hurriedly sent thither by the chief London and provincial papers.  By now the news had travelled through England.

Marsham worked hard, saving Sir James all he could.  Another messenger arrived from Lord Broadstone, with a pathetic letter for Sir James.  Chide’s face darkened over it.  “Broadstone must bear up,” he said to Marsham, as they stood together in Chide’s sanctum.  “It was not his fault, and he has the country to think of.  You tell him so.  Now, are you off?”

Marsham replied that his fly had been announced.

“What’ll they offer you?” said Chide, abruptly.

“Offer me?  It doesn’t much matter, does it?—­on a day like this?” Marsham’s tone was equally curt.  Then he added:  “I shall be here again to-morrow.”

Chide acquiesced.  When Marsham had driven off, and as the sound of the wheels died away, Chide uttered a fierce inarticulate sound.  His hot Irish heart swelled within him.  He walked hurriedly to and fro, his hands in his pockets.

“John!—­John!” he groaned.  “They’ll be dancing and triumphing on your grave to-night, John; and that fellow you were a father to—­like the rest.  But they shall do it without me, John—­they shall do it without me!”

And he thought, with a grim satisfaction, of the note he had just confided to the Premier’s second messenger refusing the offer of the Attorney-Generalship.  He was sorry for Broadstone; he had done his best to comfort him; but he would serve in no Government with John’s supplanters.