dr. samson sat late with lilian in her bedroom the next night. it was the middle of the night. he was taller than felix, and not so old; his face was more flat and milder, but there was something in his expression and about the wrinkles round his eyes that reminded her of felix, and he had attached himself to her to serve her; his mournful gaze appealed to her. it was he who had made her understand that death in a hotel devoted to gaiety was an indiscretion, a lapse from good taste that must be carefully hidden. he stood faithfully between her and the world, the captive of her beauty, wanting no reward but the satisfaction of having helped her.

not that much help was needed. the routine of such episodes was apparently fixed. things moved of themselves. all requirements seemed to be met automatically. there was even an english cemetery in the region. early on the morning after the death a young woman in black had called to present the card of a great paris shop with a branch in the town, and by the evening lilian was dressed in black. the layer-out had arrived earlier yet than the dressmaker. dr. samson had interviewed the manager of the hotel. an important part of the routine was that the whole of the furniture of felix's room should be removed, and the room refurnished at the cost of the representative of the dead. dr. samson settled the price. lilian decided to give the old furniture to the alexandra hospital. the doctor had volunteered to finance lilian till she should be back in london; but afterwards the equivalent of nearly four hundred pounds in french and english money was discovered in felix's dispatch-case, the inside of which lilian had never seen. the doctor had also sent off the telegram to the mute miss grig: "felix died in the night; am returning london immediately," and got the railway ticket, and accomplished the legal formalities preliminary to the burial, and warned the english chaplain, and ordered a gravestone in a suitable design and taken lilian's wishes as to the inscription thereon. nothing remained to be done but wait. lilian was quietly packing; the doctor sat watchful to assist. they both heard a noise in the next room; and at the noise lilian was at last startled from her calm. the moment, then, had come. dr. samson went first. the room, which ought to have been in darkness, was lighted, and not by electricity but by two candles, one on either side of the bed.

"who has done this?" lilian murmured, and gave a sob.

the door into the corridor was locked; to keep it locked had been part of the unalterable routine. therefore the candles could only have been brought by somebody on the staff of the hotel. the next instant jacqueline entered, through the bathroom. she was weeping.

"pardon me, madam. i couldn't go to bed. i couldn't sleep. and i thought of the candles. it was too much for me. i had to bring them. if i was wrong, pardon me.... they will be here soon." she threw herself down on her knees at the foot of the bed. she had spoken in french. the doctor interpreted.

"tell her i thank her very much," said lilian, "and ask her to go to bed. she'll have her work to do to-morrow, poor thing!"

jacqueline rose. lilian took her hand and turned away.

"and this came," jacqueline added, pointing to a package in tissue-paper that lay on a chair. "the night porter has only just brought it up, and as i was coming in with the candles...."

lilian removed the tissue-paper and saw a magnificent wreath of lilies, far finer than anything in her experience, a wreath for an imperial monarch. in the middle was a white envelope. she opened the envelope; it contained two french bank-notes for five hundred francs each. no signature! not a word!

"she has got her money," thought lilian. "how?" and, placing the wreath on felix's feet, she burst into tears.

jacqueline had vanished. suddenly lilian began to stride to and fro across the room. she was full of youth and force. she was full of fury and resentment. the moving muscles of her splendid, healthy body could be discerned through her black dress. she frightened the doctor.

"ah!" she cried, with a gesture towards the wreath, "she is the only one that understands that i don't want to be comforted! nobody else has understood. i expect she just heard that he was dead, and she doesn't know that i killed him; but she understood. she understood." the doctor, quite mystified, seized her arm to soothe her, and was astonished at her strength as she shook him off. she was like a tigress. nevertheless, she let herself be persuaded to follow him into her own room. there her eye caught the toilet preparations which the courtesan had bestowed on her.

"and she gave me these!" lilian laughed, hesitated, and added fiercely: "i will take them back with me! i will never use them, but i will keep them for ever and ever!" and she cast them into one of the open trunks. then she said calmly: "of course i know it was because of the window of the car being broken, and it would have been all right if the engine hadn't stopped. but it was my silly, silly idea to go out for a drive at night.... i can't help it! i did kill him! he'd have been alive now if i hadn't behaved myself like a perfect child!"

the doctor offered no remark. she resumed all her old tranquillity, wiping her eyes carefully with a fine, tiny handkerchief that felix had given her. the bearers arrived a quarter of an hour later--discreet, furtive and sinister. the hotel slept in its vastness. all gaiety was asleep. but even if some devoted slave of dissipation had surprised them on their way back, he could not have guessed that it was a coffin they bore. the doctor, by using his professional prestige, kept lilian in her own room till the bearers were nearly ready to depart with more than they had brought. she went into the mortuary. the coffin was disguised. picking up the wreath, which had been forgotten or intentionally left, she placed it upon the coffin and beneath the disguise. it lay there alone in its expensive grandeur. the bearers withdrew with their burden, tiptoeing along the dim, silent corridor lest revellers should be disturbed from well-earned, refreshing sleep and open their doors to see what was afoot in the night. the cortège was lost to view round the corner at the end of the corridor. the doctor remained a little while, and he also prepared to go. the two nurses lilian would never see again.

"you should go to bed now and try to sleep. i'll call for you in good time to-morrow for the funeral."

lilian shook her head.

"no, i'm going to pack his things now." she stood at the door of his room, and watched the doctor also disappear from view round the corner at the end of the corridor.