The first stages of our grievous task were accomplished.

We had buried Adrian in Highgate Cemetery with the yellow fog around us.

His mother had been put into a train that would carry her to the quiet country cottage wherein she longed to be alone with her sorrow.

Doria still lay in the Valley of the Shadow unconscious, perhaps fortunately, of the stealthy footsteps and muffled sounds that strike a note of agony through a house of death.

And it was many days before she awoke to knowledge and despair.