utely still; the rain
running from the eaves, and the rather wild but very low whistle of the
wind round the chimneys and through the boughs were the sole sounds in
its neighbourhood.

This building passed, the fields, hitherto flat, declined in a rapid
descent. Evidently a vale lay below, through which you could hear the
water run. One light glimmered in the depth. For that beacon Malone
steered.

He came to a little white house--you could see it was white even through
this dense darkness--and knocked at the door. A fresh-faced servant
opened it. By the candle she held was revealed a narrow passage,
terminating in a narrow stair. Two doors covered with crimson baize, a
strip of crimson carpet down the steps, contrasted with light-coloured
walls and white floor, made the little interior look clean and fresh.

"Mr. Moore is at home, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir, but he is not in."

"Not in! Where is he then?"

"At the mill--in the counting-house."

Here one of the crimson doors opened.

"Are the wagons come, Sarah?" asked a female voice, and a female head at
the same time was apparent. It might not be the head of a
goddess--indeed a screw of curl-paper on each side the temples quite
forbade that supposition--but neither was it the head of a Gorgon; yet
Malone seemed to take it in the latter light. Big as he was, he shrank
bashfully back into the rain at the view thereof, and saying, "I'll go
to him," hurried in seeming trepidation down a short lane, across an
obscure yard, towards a huge black mill.

The work-hours were over; the "hands" were gone. The machinery was at
rest, the mill shut up. Malone walked round it. Somewhere in its great
sooty flank he found another chink of light; he knocked at another
door, using for the purpose the thick end of his shillelah, with which
he beat a rousing tattoo. A key turned; the door unclosed.

"Is it Joe Scott? What news of the wagons, Joe?"

"No; it's myself. Mr. Helstone would send me."

"Oh! Mr. Malone." The voice in uttering this name had the slightest
possible cadence of disappointment. After a moment's pause it continued,
politely but a little formally,--

"I beg you will come in, Mr. Malone. I regret extremely Mr. Helstone
should have thought it necessary to trouble you so far. There was no
necessity--I told him so--and on such a night; but walk forwards."

Through a dark apartment, of aspect undistinguishable, Malone followed
the speaker into a light and bright