He overheard a little of the gossip about the boy’s escape. The most popular belief was that he had flown out of the window with the devil. Those who prided themselves on their superior intellects said that some one had obviously opened the door and hidden him in their house, just as they had clearly done at his first disappearance. An orphan boy, however, was not of much value one way or the other, and the thing as a practical question was a nine days’ wonder; although a favourite topic of gossip, relating to things mysterious, for many a long day. CHAPTER XVII CARLISLE Luckily Matthew Musgrave, who had given Wilfred permission to go, asked no questions beyond inquiring whether he had settled things to his satisfaction. “I had some difficulties,” said Wilfred, “but everything is all right now.” Wilfred lodged with Musgrave, but they would often both come round to the hostelry where Ian was. On one of these occasions a number of men were seated round the fire with tankards of ale, when a big burly fellow came in and asked mine host to draw him a tankard. Catching sight of Matthew, he went up to him and clapping him on the back, he asked how things were going. “Well enough, thank you, Andrew, and how is all with you, now that you have settled down near the old place again?” “Oh, not so badly; it is harder work than at Holwick, but it’s good being near one’s own folk.” Ian started slightly at the name of Holwick, but no one noticed and he guessed that this must be Andrew Woolridge. He waited a moment and then cautiously entered the conversation. “Where is Holwick?” he questioned. “It’s not very far south from here,” said Andrew, “on the Tees a few miles from Middleton.” “What were you doing there?” asked Ian. “Oh, I was working at Holwick Hall, Master Richard Mowbray’s place.” “What sort of a place was that?” “A fine big place, but they had not the money that the family used to have.” “What were they like?” inquired Ian. “Yes, tell us something about them,” said Matthew; “you have never told us much.” “Oh, they were all right. Master Mowbray was excellent and so were the young mistresses, but Mistress Mowbray herself was a tartar.” “Was that why you left?” asked little Wilfred. “Well, no, not exactly,” said Andrew. “I had a bit of a quarrel with them. These things will happen, you know”; and he laughed. “In fact, now that I think over it, I believe they were in the right. They were decent people, but queer in some ways, and so I thought I had better shift over here.” “What was the quarrel about?” asked Matthew. “Oh, that is too long a story; but I thought they should supply me with enough corn for the winter and they were not willing. Maybe I wanted too much; anyhow I came away, but I am sorry sometimes too.” “Why?” said Ian.