The old Italian woman looked very ill. Her form was shrunken, her face thin and white, her eyes unnaturally large. Evidently the misty climate of the midlands chilled her to the bone. She had developed a hacking cough, and shook with ague when the east wind tormented Beorminster. Herrick was shocked at the change which had taken place in her appearance during these few short weeks. Apparently Petronella was not long for this world. But the near approach of death did not appal her; she was terribly lonely, now that her mistress was gone.

"Signor Dottore," she croaked when Herrick made his appearance, "you have come to see me. That is good. But you will not cure me. No. I am dead Signor. Dio mio! what does it matter?" and she ended with a characteristic shrug, punctuated with a cough.

"Indeed you do look ill Petronella," said Dr. Jim sympathetically. "I must ask the Squire to send over someone to look after you."

"No," replied the old woman obstinately, "I am well here. And it will not be for long signor. Soon shall I be in my beautiful Italy."

"At least, come over to 'The Pines' Petronella. You will be better attended to there, and it is warmer."

But Petronella crossed herself with pious horror. "Go to that devil casa Signor! Not me. He had the evil eye, that man who died. Si Signor. I went one day with the padrona, and he swore at me. I had an accident the next day. Cospetto; a jettatura that Signor. But come in, come in, Signor Dottore. This is the best room," she led Herrick into what had once been the drawing-room. "Un bicchiére de Chianti Signor. Signor Stefan sent me some Chianti."

"No thank you Petronella," replied Herrick sitting down on a dusty seat, "I want to have a chat with you. We will talk in your own language if you like."

"Ah no, Signor, I speak the English well, thanks be to the saints. My padrona was fond of speaking the English. So, we will talk Signor Dottore."

Herrick acquiesced with a shrug. He was quite prepared to talk any language she chose provided he got what he wanted. He was not very certain how to go about the matter. Petronella was a shy bird, and inclined to be obstinate. He felt his way in a round-about fashion, so as to take her by surprise.

"You will be glad to get back to Italy Petronella?"

"Si! Si. To the little town by the Adriatic. There I was born Signor, and there will I die--if I die not here. Ah Dio!"

"You are in pain I fear?"

Petronella shrugged her lean shoulders "I am always in pain," she said, "my legs and body--all pain. But the padrona left me something to take thanks be to her, povera signora, and the pain goes."

"Not chloral, I hope?"

"Si Signor. A little bottle of chloral. I take not much, only when I am bad, so bad. Then the pain goes."

"Be careful what you do Petronella. Remember your mistress died from taking too much."

"I shall be careful," muttered the old woman, "eh Dio mio! what does it matter if I die? All alone in this big house, and Signor Stefano away."

"You saw him the other day he told me," said Dr. Jim carefully approaching his business, "he told me you had some message for me."

Petronella nodded and screwed up her thin lips. "Only when he is in danger Signor. Not now. He is too well."

"What do you mean Petronella?" asked Herrick puzzled by her nods.

"Signor Dottore," said Petronella standing very straight, "my padrona before she died called to me. She gave me a large letter, and told me to give it to the Signor Dottore when Signor Stefano was in danger."

"Oh!" Herrick's eyes flashed. He had always wondered how it was that Mrs. Marsh had died without making any sign. After the conversation she had had with him he quite expected that she would have left him a farewell message. It appeared that she had done so, but that the letter had been withheld by Petronella, according to instructions. "When did she write this Petronella? You said nothing about it at the time."

"No. I did what I was told to do Signor. Ecco Signor Dottore, it was in this way. After my padrona got the letter from the postman in the middle of the day, she was very angry and afraid."

"Afraid! Why was she afraid?"

"Chi lo sa," shrugged Petronella, "she said nothing to me. But she told me to bring pen and ink and paper. All the afternoon she was writing. Eh, how she did write! Then she put all the writing into an envelope Signor, and wrote our name on it. She told me to give it to the Signor Dottore when Signor Stefano was in danger. She said the Signor Dottore was a good man." I give it to you Signor, but not now; "No," and Petronella closing her mouth firmly shook her aged head.

"I think you had better give it to me this very minute Petronella," said Herrick rising, "for Signor Stefano is in very great danger indeed!"

"As how Signor Dottore?"

"He may be accused of murdering his uncle, Colonel Carr!"

"Eh Dio mio!" crowed the old women. "Did I not say that the dead man had the evil eye! Did I not tell the Signora that evil would come to the young Signor from this death?" She caught Herrick's arm and fixed her glittering eyes on his face. "You swear to me that this is true what you say? Signor Stefano is in danger. Eh? Eh?"

"I swear he is Petronella," replied Herrick earnestly, "and this packet you talk of may save him."

"Ah si! Well do I know Signor Dottore that is so. My padrona said that it told how the danger could be set aside. You understand. In this letter Signor, there is a strange story."

"Do you now what it is Petronella?"

"No, Signor Dottore. The padrona did not tell me. But she said it was a strange story. And to be read when my young Signor was in danger. I will go and bring it. La! La! La! It is danger. Dio mio! That wicked Signor who is dead--birbanti--ladroni. The evil eye--the evil eye."

Coughing as she went the old woman hobbled out of the room. Dr. Jim sat still wondering if he was about to learn the truth at last. If Pentland Corn was to be believed, Mrs. Marsh had been at "The Pines" about the hour when the crime had been committed. Herrick did not now believe that she had killed the man herself, as she had been possessed of the modern revolver with which the three shots had been fired. It was impossible to imagine that she had fired one shot with an old-fashioned weapon, and had then reverted to the use of the new revolver. No! The first shot,--the death shot had been fired by some one else, possibly by Frisco. Mrs. Marsh had met the assassin in the house, but for reasons of her own had not divulged the name.

Also judging from her conversation she had known a great deal about Carr and Frisco, especially about the latter, seeing that she had warned Jim that Frisco might attempt to kill Stephen. As a matter of fact although the man had not struck the blow himself, he had guided the hand of Santiago to strike it. Herrick wondered if Mrs. Marsh would say anything about the Mexican. "At all events I shall know the truth at last," he said. "After reading this letter, the mystery will be one no longer. But why did Mrs. Marsh delay such important information all this time?"

This was a question he could not answer. He was still puzzling over it when Petronella entered the room carrying a large blue envelope, sealed with the Carr crest. This she handed to Herrick with much ceremony. "There is my trust Signor," she croaked, "bear witness by all the saints that I gave it only when the young Signor was in danger."

"That is all right Petronella. I shall read it here. Will you stay?"

"No, Signor Dottore. I do not want to hear the secrets of my padrona. I go to make myself a meal Signor. You stay here and read. A glass of wine Signor Dottore. Eh, pour l'amor di Dio, un bicchiére de Chianti?"

Herrick politely refused the attention, and Petronella went grumbling out of the room. She was a hospitable old soul, and liked the doctor. When he was alone in that dismal, deserted, apartment, he drew up his chair close to the window and opened the envelope. Five or six sheets of closely-written paper fell out; also a typewritten letter. After a glance at this last, Dr. Jim smoothed out the paper and began to read. The story---as it might be called--commenced abruptly. This impetuosity was extremely characteristic of Mrs. Marsh. After a glance round the room Dr. Jim settled to read. The manuscript was as follows:--

"I am a wicked woman and an evil woman. There you see Mr. Herrick I place my character before you in 'the first line. I know you are no fool, or I should not make such a confession. But when you read these pages I shall be in my grave, so what you say or think does not matter. If these pages are made public, there will be blame enough from other people. To save my boy they must be made public. I can foresee that he 'will be accused of the murder of that beast Carr. I swear that he is innocent. He knows nothing. From the grave I send out my voice to defend him. And you are a clever man Herrick. The defence of my poor boy I confide to you. If you do not do your best I swear to haunt you if it be possible for the dead to return. But after all, you are too sensible to be frightened by this 'talk. Let me get to the facts of the case. Those will interest you more than the ravings of a dying woman. So I begin:--"

"I have said that Colonel Carr was a beast. I repeat 'it. He was a cruel tiger. Rolling in wealth, he refused 'to give me any money. Yet he knew that I was accustomed to luxury, and that Stephen was his nephew. No wonder I hated the man. Again and again I implored 'him almost on my knees to allow me sufficient to live on. He always refused with his sneering laugh. Often I wonder that I did not kill him. Yet he had one good point. He had loved his sister, and out of love for her memory, he made Stephen his heir. He also caused him to be educated, but when that was done, he refused to 'allow him an income to live like a gentleman. I hated Carr for that. Even if he had not allowed me money, still his own sister's child should not have felt the pinch of poverty. I love Stephen. He is a kind, good boy, and has put up with my vile temper all these years. Now that he is rich I hope he will marry Ida (if she does not 'prefer you, and I do not think that is likely), and live the happy life of a country gentleman. My blessings on them both.

"To come to the point which I know you want to reach. On the night of Carr's murder I was at the rectory. It came to my ears through some words dropped by Frisco when he was intoxicated, that Ca............