“My house has been burnt. If John Exton didn’t do it, who did?”
“I dunno.”
“Exactly.”
Grimshaw moved nearer to her.
“I think I know,” he said, almost in a whisper, because he was humbly aware that inspiration had descended upon him. Lady Selina repeated his words:
“You think you know, Mr. Grimshaw?”
He beckoned to Nick, saying in his kindliest tone:
“Come you here, my lad.”
The softy shambled up to him. Grimshaw sat down upon a chair near the fireplace, assuming an easy attitude, but his eyes caught and held the eyes of the boy.
“I bain’t afeard of ’ee, I bain’t.”