“Idiot! what would you die for this moment?” cried the old lord; “and if you did die, what information would I get from that? Begin at the beginning, I tell you: what happened? none of your adjurations. What do you _know_?” “If your lordship will let me speak,” said Harding, aggrieved. “I don’t know from Adam who brought him. It was close upon dark, and the storm raging. I thought it was nothing but the wind that swept in, and a blast of rain that came full in my face. There hasn’t been such a wind that I recollect since the year Mr Richard went first to college--when there was a hawful storm, as your lordship may remember----” “Never mind the storm,” said Lord Eskside, with an effort of patience, “think a little.--When did this occur. Fix upon the hour. Now--that’s something definite. We’ll get on from that.” “_That_ there can be no doubt about, my lord,” said Harding, promptly. “The bell was ringing for the servants’ hall supper--which made it a little hard at first to hear the door-bell. We has our supper sharp at nine----” (“Trust him to mind his times of eating!” ejaculated Lord Eskside: “an Englishman never forgets that.”) “----And just then the door-bell rang. Not expecting nobody, I was a little scared-like. I said to myself, ‘Who’s this a-coming at this time of the night?’ and I called to Mrs ’Arding----” “Lordsake, man, never mind your thoughts or your Mrs Hardings! get on.” “I called to Mrs ’Arding, my lord,” said the butler, solemnly, “to wait and see who it was afore they went into supper. It might have been visitors unexpected, as I’ve known to arrive all in an ’eap and never a room ready. It might have been Mr Richard, as is always particular. Beg your lordship’s pardon, that was what passed through my ’ead. Then them as was outside rang again. I’m a bit confused with all that’s ’appened. It was that loud that it sounded like the day of judgment----” “There are to be no bells that ever I heard of at the day of judgment,” said his master; “leave metaphors, man, and give me facts--that’s all I want.” “Then they got to knocking on the door, my lord--not using the knocker like people as knows. I ain’t superstitious, though I’ve heard tales enough to make your hair stand up on your head since I’ve been in the north--warnings and that sort. But I did say to myself, if so be it’s for his lordship or my lady--spirits being in the family, so to speak---- Was it something else your lordship was pleased to want?” “Send for your wife,” growled Lord Eskside, who had rung the bell violently, and now stood impatient on the hearth with his back to the fire, working his projecting lip and shaggy eyebrows. This was so very common an interruption of the more important interviews between master and man, that Mrs Harding came without further call, not sorry of the opportunity of getting rid of a little of her own excitement, and very anxious to know, in a matter of so much moment, “what my lord would say.”