‘A fire! Where?’ asked Kilpatrick. ‘At the old mill up by the burn,’ said Peebles. ‘’Twas burned to the ground, I’m told, and there’s some talk of an old peasant woman, a gangrel strange body that they had gien shelter to, having been burned wi’ it.’ ‘God bless my soul!’ murmured his lordship. ‘Has the body been found?’ Richard emitted an involuntary gasp, and clung with his feet to the leg of the table. ‘No,’ returned Peebles, ‘not yet. There’s just the chance it never may be. A good part o’ the blazing timbers fell into the burn and were carried awa’, and it’s like eneuch the body went wi’ them--or maybe they’ll come upon it digging among the ruins.’ ‘Who was the woman?’ asked Dulcie, ‘Does anybody know her?’ ‘Nobody that I ken o’,’ returned Peebles, with an immovable face. ‘A bit tramp body.’ ‘Deuced odd,’ said Kilpatrick. ‘How could a place like that, miles away from anywhere, catch fire? Is there any suspicion of arson?’ ‘’Deed,’ said Peebles, ‘I don’t know why there should be. Who is there that wad do siccan mischief? To be sure,’ he added, with a reflective air, ‘the woman might have enemies. Those tramps are a waesome lot to deal wi’--but it’s most likely that she did it hersel’ by accident, poor thing. We’ll just hope so, for the sake o’ human charity--till we get further information, anyway.’ He looked at Richard again as he spoke the last words, and had some difficulty in repressing any sign of the angry scorn he felt at sight of the young man’s livid face. ‘It’s hard on Larry, dacent lad,’ he continued. ‘I’m thinking that your lordship might do worse than start a subscription for him.’ ‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Kilpatrick. ‘I’ll give five pounds. You have my leave, Peebles, to say so, and to ask for subscriptions in my name.’ ‘I’ll give five,’ said Dulcie. ‘I shall be glad to follow so good an example,’ said Conseltine. He strove hard to speak in his usual smooth fashion, but his voice sounded harsh and unsteady to his own ears. He gave Richard an angrily prompting look, and the boy tried to speak, but his tongue rattled against the roof of his mouth. ‘I thought you would,’ said Conseltine, quickly interpreting the inarticulate sound issuing from his son’s throat as an expression of charitable sympathy. ‘Put Richard and myself down for ten pounds, if you please, Mr. Peebles.’ ‘I thank ye, Lady Dulcie and gentlemen,’ said Peebles. ‘It’s good to hae feeling hearts, and the means of proving that ye hae them. I’ll let ye know any later news--if the body’s found, or anything o’ that kind.’ ‘What the devil’s the matter with you?’ his lordship asked of Richard, with sudden acerbity. Richard was as white as death, and shivering like a leaf. ‘It’s the heat, or--or something,’ he managed to stammer out. ‘Let me help you to your room, my boy,’ said his father. He rose, and supported Richard from the table, hiding as well as he could his pitiable condition.