"It's a nice change for him, sir," answered the landlady. "He's kept pretty close at it all day in the office yonder at Mallathorpe's Mill, and it does him good to get a bit o' fresh air at nights, now that the fine weather's coming on. That was one reason why we took this old place—it's a deal better air here nor what it is in the town."
"So your husband is at Mallathorpe's Mill, eh?" asked Collingwood.
"Been there—in the counting-house—boy and man, over thirty years, sir," replied Mrs. Cobcroft.
"Did he see that terrible affair then—was it two years ago?"
The landlady shook her head and let out a weighty sigh.
"Aye, I should think he did!" she answered. "And a nice shock it gave him, too!—he actually saw that chimney fall—him and another clerk were looking out o' the counting-house window when it gave way."
Collingwood said no more then—except to remark that such a sight must indeed have been trying to the nerves. But for purposes of his own he determined to have a talk with Cobcroft, and the next evening, seeing him in his garden again, he went out to him and got into conversation, and eventually led up to the subject of Mallathorpe's Mill, the new chimney of which could be seen from a corner of the garden.
"Your wife tells me," observed Collingwood, "that you were present when the old chimney fell at the mill yonder?"
Cobcroft, a quiet, unassuming man, usually of few words, looked along the hillside at the new chimney, and nodded his head. A curious, far-away look came into his eyes.
"I was, sir!" he said. "And I hope I may never see aught o' that sort again, as long as ever I live. It was one o' those things a man can never forget!"