After a few minutes he arose, sighed heavily, and retraced his steps as he had come.
Fearing that he might harm himself, yet unwilling to arouse him, the steward followed noiselessly.

The Duke kept on his path unerringly, entered the park, and made for the house, where he let himself in by a window that stood open--the one probably by which he had come out.

Mills softly closed the window behind his patron, and then retired homeward to await the revelations of the morning, deeming it unnecessary to alarm the house.
However, he felt uneasy during the remainder of the night, no less on account of the Duke's personal condition than because of that which was imminent next day.

Early in the morning he called at Shakeforest Towers.
The blinds were down, and there was something singular upon the porter's face when he opened the door.

The steward inquired for the Duke.
The man's voice was subdued as he replied: 'Sir, I am sorry to say that his Grace is dead! He left his room some time in the night, and wandered about nobody knows where.