Lord Strathland's face was pale and he was panting, but he led the way rapidly through the sitting-room into the bedroom. Zeal had undressed, extended himself on the bed, and covered his body with an eider-down quilt. Lord Strathland jerked it off, and both saw what they had expected to see, for a faint odor of burnt powder lingered in the rooms. Lord Strathland's face was ghastly, almost blue.
I will tell you, but I am no more fit to talk just now than you are to listen." His grandfather submitted, and Gwynne dropped his arm and rearranged the quilt over his cousin's body. At the same moment Lord Strathland's eyes lit on a sealed letter addressed to himself. Before Gwynne could interfere he had broken the seal. It ran: MY LORD, I murdered Brathland.