“A remarkable woman, gentlemen,” said he, “a very noteworthy woman.  I had prided myself that my willpower was the most powerful in the country—­I had never met any to match it—­but I do not mind admitting that, for firmness and tenacity, this lady is my equal.  She was anxious that I should adopt one course of action.  I was determined to adopt another.  Your presence here is a proof that she has prevailed.”

He paused for breath, and she gave him another small sip of the brandy.

“I execute her will ungrudgingly and with the conviction that it is the right and proper course for me to take,” he continued.  “You will forgive me some of the ill which I have done you, Maisie, when I tell you that I really died this morning—­all unknown to Cumberledge and you—­and that nothing but my will force has sufficed to keep spirit and body together until I should carry out your will in the manner which you suggested.  I shall be glad when I have finished, for the effort is a painful one, and I long for the peace of dissolution.  It is now a quarter to seven.  I have every hope that I may be able to leave before eight.”

It was strange to hear the perfect coolness with which he discussed his own approaching dissolution.  Calm, pale, and impassive, his manner was that of a professor addressing his class.  I had seen him speak so to a ring of dressers in the old days at Nathaniel’s.

“The circumstances which led up to the death of Admiral Scott Prideaux, and the suspicions which caused the arrest of Doctor Yorke-Bannerman, have never yet been fully explained, although they were by no means so profound that they might not have been unravelled at the time had a man of intellect concentrated his attention upon them.  The police, however, were incompetent and the legal advisers of Dr. Bannerman hardly less so, and a woman only has had the wit to see that a gross injustice has been done.  The true facts I will now lay before you.”

Mayfield’s broad face had reddened with indignation; but now his curiosity drove out every other emotion, and he leaned forward with the rest of us to hear the old man’s story.

“In the first place, I must tell you that both Dr. Bannerman and myself were engaged at the time in an investigation upon the nature and properties of the vegetable alkaloids, and especially of aconitine.  We hoped for the very greatest results from this drug, and we were both equally enthusiastic in our research.  Especially, we had reason to believe that it might have a most successful action in the case of a certain rare but deadly disease, into the nature of which I need not enter.  Reasoning by analogy, we were convinced that we had a certain cure for this particular ailment.