Hollingford, of course, was full of gossip about the dead woman.  The old, old scandal occupied tongues malicious or charitable.  Rivenoak domestics had spread the news of the marble bust, to which some of them attached a superstitious significance; Breakspeare heard, and credited, a rumour that the bust dated from the time when its original led a brilliant, abandoned life in the artist world of London; but naturally he could not speak of this with Lashmar.  Highly imaginative stories, too, went about concerning Miss Tomalin, whom everyone assumed to be the heiress of Lady Ogram’s wealth.  By some undercurrent, no doubt of servant’s-hall origin, the name of Lord Dymchurch had come into circulation, and the editor of the Express ventured to inquire of Lashmar whether it was true that Miss Tomalin had rejected an offer of marriage from this peer.  Perfectly true, answered Dyce, in his discreet way; and he smiled as one who, if he would, could expatiate on the interesting topic.

He saw Mrs. Gallantry, and from her learnt—­without betraying his own ignorance—­that callers at Rivenoak were received by Lady Amys, from whom only the barest information concerning Lady Ogram’s illness was obtainable.  Neither Miss Tomalin nor Miss Bride had been seen by anyone.

The day of the funeral arrived; the hour appointed was half-past two.  All the morning rain fell, and about mid-day began a violent thunder storm, which lasted for an hour.  Then the sky began to clear, and as Lashmar started for Rivenoak be saw a fine rainbow across great sullen clouds, slowly breaking upon depths of azure.  The gates of the park stood wide open, and many carriages were moving up the drive.  Afterwards, it became known that no member of the Ogram family had been present on this occasion.  Half-a-dozen friends of the deceased came down from London, but the majority of the funeral guests belonged to Hollingford and the immediate neighbourhood.  In no sense was it a distinguished gathering; mere curiosity accounted for the presence of nearly all who came.

Lashmar had paid his respects to Lady Amys, who received him frigidly, and was looking about for faces that he knew, when a familiar voice spoke at his shoulder; he turned, and saw Mrs. Toplady.

“Have you come down this morning?” he asked, as they shook hands.

“Yesterday.  I want to see you, and we had better arrange the meeting now.  Where are you staying in Hollingford?  An hotel, isn’t it?”

She spoke in a low voice.  Notwithstanding her decorous gravity, Lashmar saw a ghost of the familiar smile hovering about her lips.  He gave his address, and asked at what hour Mrs. Toplady thought of coming.

“Let us say half-past five.  There’s an up train just before eight, which I must catch.”

She nodded, and moved away.  Again Lashmar looked about him, and he met the eye of Mr. Kerchever, who came forward with friendly aspect.