“Will you go instead of me?”

“On the whole I think not,” I replied, “and if I did, the story I should have to tell might not tend to your advantage.”

“That’s true, damn you!” he exclaimed and left the room.

Ten minutes later he was galloping towards Pilgrim’s Rest.  Before I departed from the death chamber I examined the place carefully to see if I could find any poison or other deadly thing, but without success.  One thing I did discover, however.  Turning the leaf of a blotting-book that was by Marnham’s elbow, I came upon a sheet of paper on which were written these words in his hand, “Greater love hath no man than this—­” that was all.

Either he had forgotten the end of the quotation or changed his mind, or was unable through weakness to finish the sentence.  This paper also I put in my pocket.  Bolting the shutters and locking the door I returned to the stoep, where I was alone, for as yet no one else was stirring.  Then I remembered the letter in my pocket and opened it.  It ran—­

“Dear Mr. Quatermain,—­

“I have remembered that those who quarrel with Dr. Rodd are apt to die soon and suddenly; at any rate life at my age is always uncertain.  Therefore, as I know you to be an honest man, I am enclosing my will that it may be in safe keeping and purpose to send it to your room to-morrow morning.  Perhaps when you return to Pretoria you will deposit it in the Standard Bank there, and if I am still alive, forward me the receipt.  You will see that I leave everything to my daughter whom I dearly love, and that there is enough to keep the wolf from her door, besides my share in this property, if it is ever realized.

“After all that has passed to-night I do not feel up to writing a long letter, so

“Remain sincerely yours,

“H.  A. Marnham.”

“PS.—­I should like to state clearly upon paper that my earnest hope and wish are that Heda may get clear of that black-hearted, murderous, scoundrel Rodd and marry Mr. Anscombe, whom I like and who, I am sure, would make her a good husband.”

Thinking to myself this did not look very like the letter of a suicide, I glanced through the will, as the testator seemed to have wished that I should do so.  It was short, but properly drawn, signed, and witnessed, and bequeathed a sum of #9,000, which was on deposit at the Standard Bank, together with all his other property, real and personal, to Heda for her own sole use, free from the debts and engagements of her husband, should she marry.  Also she was forbidden to spend more than #1,000 of the capital.  In short the money was strictly tied up.  With the will were some other papers that apparently referred to certain property in Hungary to which Heda might become entitled, but about these I did not trouble.

Replacing these documents in a safe inner pocket in the lining of my waistcoat, I went into our room and woke up Anscombe who was sleeping soundly, a fact that caused an unreasonable irritation in my mind.  When at length he was thoroughly aroused I said to him—­