"You are mistaken, Mr. Rosewarne. Undoubtedly they followed the Northern Lights; but their purpose you Will hardly guess. It was to intercede for an old man of eighty, whom, it appears, I have been cruel enough to lock up in prison." Mr. Sam's face expressed annoyance and something more. "I sincerely trust, my lady, they have not succeeded in distressing you." "I suppose I may thank Heaven, sir, that they at least succeeded so far." Her tone completely puzzled Mr. Sam, who detected the displeasure beneath it, but in all honesty could not decide whether she blamed him or the children. "A painful business, my lady. The poor man was past his work--a nuisance to himself and to others. These last scenes of our poor mortality-- often, as it seems to us (could _we_ be the judges), so unduly protracted--But some steps had to be taken. The ferry was becoming a scandal. I felt called upon to act, and to act firmly. If I may use the expression, your ladyship's feelings in the matter would naturally be those which do honour to your ladyship's sex; they would be, shall I say--er--" "Why not say 'womanly,' Mr. Rosewarne?" "Ha, precisely--womanly. I did my best to spare them." "We will talk of that later. Just now, you will please instruct us how best to release the poor man, and at once. May I remind you that the horses are taking cold?" "The horses?" Mr. Sam stared from Lady Killiow to Sir George. "Her ladyship doesn't tell me that she was actually proposing to drive to Bodmin?" "I start within five minutes." "But it is useless!" "Useless?" "The man is dead." "Mr. Rosewarne--" Mr. Sam drew a telegram from his pocket. "I received this as I was leaving home. The governor of the prison very kindly communicated with me as soon as the office opened. The prisoner--as I heard from the policeman who escorted him--collapsed almost as soon as they admitted him. I telegraphed at once to the governor, assuring him of my interest in the case and requesting information. This is his reply: '_ Vro died three-thirty this morning. Doctor supposes senile decay._' It was considerate of him to make this addition, for it will satisfy your ladyship that we acted, though unwillingly, with the plainest possible justification. The man was hopelessly past his work." Sir George, who had been staring out of window, wheeled about abruptly, lifted his head, and gazed at Mr. Sam for some twenty seconds with a wondering interest. Then he turned to Lady Killiow. "Shall I send back the carriage?" "Thank you," she said; and he went out, with a glance at her face which silently expressed many things.