We went round to the back of the house and entered by the kitchen. Old Mrs Brynd was seated in her usual chair by the fire. She started up as we entered. 'What's happened?' she asked in a quavering voice. 'I know something terrible has happened. What is it? T'edn't no use lyin' to me. I can tell from the looks of 'ee that something's happened.'
'It's all right, Mrs Brynd,' Kitty said.
The old woman sat down in her chair again. 'The Master's come back,' she muttered. 'In a dreadful state, he was.'
'Now, don't you fret,' Kitty said.
'Better get some dry clothes on,' I told Kitty. 'Anything you want to take bundle into an oilskin. We'll have to swim for it, unless there's some place where a boat can come in.'
'Not with the wind in the sou'-west,' she answered. 'I'll do as you say. What about you? I'll get you some of old Mr Manack's clothes.'
'No, I'll get them,' I said.
'All right,' she said. 'It's the first on the left at the top of the stairs.'
I lit a spare lamp and went out into the corridor. A light glowed on the landing above. I started up the stairs, but as I reached the bend I stopped. The old man was standing there, a lamp in his left hand and the little mining pick held in his right.
We stood there looking at each other for a moment. Then I started up the stairs again. He half-raised the pick. The steel of it gleamed in the lamplight. It was a vicious little weapon. His eyes watched me as I came up the stairs. He was trembling and he kept passing his tongue across his lips.