‘The mistress told me to remind your honour that breakfast was at seven sharp.’
‘I was aware of it,’ Richard said dryly; ‘but I thank your mistress for the reminder.’
‘An’ begging pardon, sorr, but d’ye know where it is you’re sleeping?’
‘At present,’ said Richard, ‘I’m not sleeping anywhere.’
‘Ah, sorr! Don’t joke. Mr. Featherstone slept in this room, sorr. Did ye know Mr. Featherstone?’
‘What!’ cried Richard, starting up. ‘Do you mean the man that committed suicide?’
‘The same, sorr. But speak low, your honour. It’s myself that should not have mentioned it.’
‘Why not?’ Richard asked, subduing his voice.
‘The master might not like it.’
‘Then why do you tell me?’