painful that Fred stood
still, and his eyes felt dim.

"Poor Lady Markham! poor little Lil!" he said in a low voice. "What
will they say?"

"Yes, and your mother, Master Fred, sir; she'll be terribly cut up too."

"Well, Fred, my lad," said a grave voice, "have you, too, come to see?"

Fred started round, to find that his father was leaning against one of
the fine old beeches with his arms folded, gazing at the still smoking
ruins.

He did not wait to be answered, but sighed deeply, and walked slowly
away.

"Don't he know?" whispered Samson.

Fred shook his head, and stood gazing after his father till his follower
touched his sleeve.

"Aren't you going to tell him, Master Fred?"

"I was wondering whether I ought."

"So was I, sir; and you oughtn't."

"You think that?"

"Yes, sir. If you tell him, he'll feel it's his duty to send in search
of them, and make 'em prisoners."

"Yes," said Fred, thoughtfully.

"And that's just what we want done, of course, Master Fred; only they
ought to be our prisoners, and we want to do just what we like about
'em, not be enterfered with--eh?"

"Don't talk to me, please," said Fred, as he watched his father go where
his horse was being held, and saw him mount and ride thoughtfully away.

"Now, Samson, quick! and don't point or seem to be taking any particular
notice."

"I understand, sir."

"Let us look as if we were walking round just out of curiosity, and do
nothing to excite the attention of any sentinel who may have us under
his eye."

Fred led the way, and Samson followed, as he walked completely round the
ruins of the old building, apparently indifferent, but taking in
everything with the most intense eagerness. But, look as he would, he
could see no trace of any opening in the skeleton of the fine old Hall.
Every vestige of roof had gone, and in its fall parti-walls had been
toppled over, and where they still stood it was in such a chaos of ruins
that the eye soon grew confused.

As to finding the entrance to the passage, that was impossible. It was
easy enough to trace the entrance hall, but the carven beams of the roof
had entirely gone, and there was not the slightest trace visible of the
grand staircase or the corridor which ran to right and left.
Smouldering ashes, calcined stone, and here and there the projecting
charred stump of some beam; but no sign of a passage running between
walls, and at last Samson, who had edged up closely, whispered-