Near the hour of ten o'clock that night, Noah drew up the fat panting
horses before Sir William's house. The porter, who had been watching all
day, opened the gate, the coach entered the courtyard, Noah uttered a
hoarse "Whoa!" and almost fell off the box to the ground. As soon as he
could get on his feet again, he went to the coach door, spoke to Frances,
ran to Sir William, who was waiting at the top of the house steps, candle
in hand, to welcome Roger, and spoke but one word: "Dead!"
Frances hurriedly came from the coach, and Sir William went to meet her.
Holding out her hands to him, she cried:--
"Oh, Sir William, they have killed your brother! Robbed him and killed
him!"
Frances was incoherently explaining to Sir William when Lady Wentworth
came down the steps and led her into the house. Then the doors were
opened wide, and poor old Roger's body was carried reverently to the best
parlor.
The following morning, when I was notified that Frances was at Sir
William's house, I went to see her and learned the particulars of the
tragedy, though she said nothing at that time about having recognized any
of the highwaymen, and seemed strangely reluctant to talk about the
affair.
On the fourth day after Roger's death he was buried in
Saint-Martin's-in-the-Fields churchyard, good Sir William taking the only
means in his power to express his love for his brother by an elaborate
funeral.
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