'
'Why, where else should he sit?' asked Hugh, holding the lantern to his
breast, to keep the candle from the wind, while he trimmed it with his
fingers. 'It's snug enough, an't it?'
'Snug!' said John indignantly. 'You have a comfortable idea of snugness,
you have, sir. Do you know what was done in that room, you ruffian?'
'Why, what is it the worse for that!' cried Hugh, looking into John's
fat face. 'Does it keep out the rain, and snow, and wind, the less for
that? Is it less warm or dry, because a man was killed there? Ha, ha,
ha! Never believe it, master. One man's no such matter as that comes
to.'
Mr Willet fixed his dull eyes on his follower, and began--by a species
of inspiration--to think it just barely possible that he was something
of a dangerous character, and that it might be advisable to get rid
of him one of these days. He was too prudent to say anything, with the
journey home before him; and therefore turned to the iron gate before
which this brief dialogue had passed, and pulled the handle of the bell
that hung beside it. The turret in which the light appeared being at
one corner of the building, and only divided from the path by one of
the garden-walks, upon which this gate opened, Mr Haredale threw up the
window directly, and demanded who was there.
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