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Before I leave you； tell me one thing； and try to tell me plainly； I
implore you。 Have you seen； or heard of Emma？’
‘No！’ said Mr Willet。
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‘Nor any one but these bloodhounds？’
‘No！’
‘They rode away； I trust in Heaven； before these dreadful
scenes began；’ said Mr Haredale； who； between his agitation； his
eagerness to mount his horse again； and the dexterity with which
the cords were tied； had scarcely yet undone one knot。 ‘A knife；
Daisy！’
‘You didn’t；’ said John； looking about； as though he had lost his
pocket…handkerchief； or some such slight article—‘either of you
gentlemen—see a—a coffin anywheres； did you？’
‘Willet！’ cried Mr Haredale。 Solomon dropped the knife； and
instantly becoming limp from head to foot； exclaimed ‘Good
gracious！’
‘—Because；’ said John； not at all regarding them； ‘a dead man
called a little time ago； on his way yonder。 I could have told you
what name was on the plate； if he had brought his coffin with him；
and left it behind。 If he didn’t； it don’t signify。’
His landlord； who had listened to these words with breathless
attention； started that moment to his feet； and； without a word；
drew Solomon Daisy to the door； mounted his horse； took him up
behind again； and flew rather than galloped towards the pile of
ruins； which that day’s sun had shone upon； a stately house。 Mr
Willet stared after them； listened； looked down upon himself to
make quite sure that he was still unbound； and； without any
manifestation of impatience； disappointment； or surprise； gently
relapsed into the condition from which he had so imperfectly
recovered。
Mr Haredale tied his horse to the trunk of a tree； and grasping
his companion’s arm； stole softly along the footpath； and into what
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had been the garden of his house。 He stopped for an instant to
look upon its smoking walls； and at the stars that shone through
roof and floor upon the heap of crumbling ashes。 Solomon glanced
timidly in his face； but his lips were tightly pressed together； a
resolute and stern expression sat upon his brow； and not a tear； a
look； or gesture indicating grief； escaped him。
He drew his sword； felt for a moment in his breast； as though he
carried other arms about him； then grasping Solomon by the wrist
again； went with a cautious step all round the house。 He looked
into every doorway and gap in the wall； retraced his steps at every
rustling of the air among the leaves； and searched in every
shadowed nook with outstretched hands。 Thus they made the
circuit of the building： but they returned to the spot from which
they had set out； without encountering any human being； or
finding the least trace of any concealed straggler。
After a short pause； Mr Haredale shouted twice or thrice。 Then
cried aloud； ‘Is there any one in hiding here； who knows my voice！
There is nothing to fear now。 If any of my people are near； I
entreat them to answer！’ He called them all by name； his voice was
echoed in many mournful tones； then all was silent as before。
They were standing near the foot of the turret； where the
alarm…bell hung。 The fire had raged there； and the floors had been
sawn； and hewn； and beaten down； besides。 It was open to the
night； but a part of the staircase still remained； winding upward
from a great mound of dust and cinders。 Fragments of the jagged
and broken steps offered an insecure and giddy footing here and
there； and then were lost again； behind protruding angles of the
wall； or in the deep shadows cast upon it by other portions of the
ruin； for by this time the moon had risen； and shone brightly。
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As they stood here； listening to the echoes as they died away；
and hoping in vain to hear a voice they knew； some of the ashes in
this turret slipped and rolled down。 Startled by the least noise in
that melancholy place； Solomon looked up in his companion’s
face； and saw that he had turned towards the spot； and that he
watched and listened keenly。
He covered the little man’s mouth with his hand； and looked
again。 Instantly； with kindling eyes； he bade him on his life keep
still； and neither speak nor move。 Then holding his breath； and
stooping down； he stole into the turret； with his drawn sword in
his hand； and disappeared。
Terrified to be left there by himself； under such desolate
circumstances； and after all he had seen and heard that night；
Solomon would have followed； but there had been something in
Mr Haredale’s manner and his look； the recollection of which held
him spellbound。 He stood rooted to the spot； and scarcely
venturing to breathe； looked up with mingled fear and wonder。
Again the ashes slipped and rolled—very； very softly—again—
and then again； as though they crumbled underneath the tread of
a stealthy foot。 And now a figure was dimly visible； climbing very
softly； and often stopping to look down； now it pursued its difficult
way； and now it was hidden from the view again。
It emerged once more； into the shadowy and uncertain light—
higher now； but not much； for the way was steep and toilsome； and
its progress very slow。 What phantom of the brain did he pursue；
and why did he look down so constantly？ He knew he was alone。
Surely his mind was not affected by that night’s loss and agony。
He was not about to throw himself headlong from the summit of
the tottering wall。 Solomon turned sick； and clasped his hands。 His
Charles Dickens