seen pass under his window were machinating some trouble for him, and an
uneasy suspense made him lift his eyes now and then to the door,
fancying sounds and footsteps; and after a resultless wait he would say
to himself, "If any one is coming, why the devil don't he come?" and
then he would apply himself again to his letters.

But on a sudden he heard good Mrs. Julaper's step trotting along the
lobby, and the tiny ringing of her keys.

Here was news coming; and the Baronet stood up looking at the door, on
which presently came a hurried rapping; and before he had answered, in
the midst of a long thunder-clap that suddenly broke, rattling over the
house, the good woman opened the door in great agitation, and cried with
a tremulous uplifting of her hands.

"O, Sir Bale! O, la, sir! here's poor dear Philip Feltram come home
dead!"

Sir Bale stared at her sternly for some seconds.

"Gome, now, do be distinct," said Sir Bale; "what has happened?"

"He's lying on the sofer in the old still-room. You never saw--my
God!--O, sir--what is life?"

"D--n it, can't you cry by-and-by, and tell me what's the matter now?"

"A bit o' fire there, as luck would have it; but what is hot or cold
now? La, sir, they're all doin' what they can; he's drowned, sir, and
Tom Warren is on the gallop down to Golden Friars for Doctor Torvey."