The walls were all down,—at least, those of the main building; for not only had the fire overthrown them, but the pick and shovel had been busy for several weeks after the catastrophe, turning over the principal ruins in search of plate and other articles of value which had not been carried out during the fire.
There the gentlemen dismounted. The servants tied the horses to the iron gates, and the whole party entered the grass court and looked around. At that moment an old wizened face appeared at one of the small lozenges of a cottage-window, and the next a chink of the door was opened the mean and the same face gazed out. In time Mr. Sykes, with his riding-whip in his hand, was pointing out to Soubise all the wonders of the place, telling him where the great hall used to stand, where the guest-chambers were, and where were the private apartments of the Lady of Langley. Never before in his life was he so eloquent. While he went on, an old man of perhaps eighty hobbled across the road and came close up to the side of Dr. Winthorne. Just at that moment Mr. Sykes pointed with his whip to a tower a little detached from the main building, and apparently of more ancient architecture, saying, "That was the wine and ale cellar; and I have heard people say that during the fire the casks burst with an explosion like so many cannon."
"That is not true," said the old man, who had just come up; "for there had not been a thing or a body in that tower for thirty years before. Why, the stairs were half worn away; and Sir Richard would have pulled it down if it had not been for my lady, who liked the look of it."
"Ah, is that you, old Grimes?" said Mr. Sykes. "Why, you look younger than ever."
"I shall live to bury you yet," said the old sexton. "Don't make me wait long, for I am tired enough of life, I am sure. Who is that you have got with you, Sykes?"
"This is a French nobleman, the Prince de Soubise," replied the attorney. "As he cannot live in his own country, on account of the troubles, he has come over to England. We have been talking about his buying this place. Indeed, it is almost a bargain. He will have all these ruins cleared away," he continued, in a confidential tone, and somewhat dropping his voice, to prevent Dr. Winthorne from hearing too much.
The old sexton's face had turned a little pale; but the next instant he said, a little gruffly, "You can't sell him the place, Sykes."
"No; but Sir Richard can," replied the lawyer.
The old man grunted forth something which nobody heard distinctly, but which had some reference to "Sir Richard," and to "not paying a pension," and "giving no orders."
Sykes kept his eye fixed upon him steadily, and thought he saw an uneasy look come upon the old man's face, which was turned at that moment toward the ruined tower; and, looking round, the attorney saw that the servants, having left the horses at the gate, were sporting about the court-yard, and that Pierrot had mounted upon a pile of stones which had fallen from the tall wall above.