“He raised his eyes to the old man’s countenance, and paused. He lifted the light to his face, set it gently down, and left the apartment.

“ ‘You had better see to the old man,’ he said to the woman, as he opened the door, and motioned the officer to follow him into the street. ‘I think he is ill.’ The woman closed the door, ran hastily upstairs, and found him lifeless.

“Beneath a plain gravestone, in one of the most peaceful and secluded churchyards in Kent, where wild flowers mingle with the grass, and the soft landscape around forms the fairest spot in the garden of England, lie the bones of the young mother and her gentle child. But the ashes of the father do not mingle with theirs; nor, from that night forward, did the attorney ever gain the remotest clue to the subsequent history of his queer client.”