"Yes, she was. But I think he caught fire accidentally. There was some scuffle, and I fancy his white pinafore set alight."
"But she bolted the door upon him?"
Prance actually for a moment looked distressed. "I'm afraid she did, sir: the one door. The other, I have always believed, and always shall believe, the child fastened himself."
"She bolted it on him when he was burning?"
"Ah, I don't know that, sir; I don't know it for certain."
"You have feared it."
"Yes; only that."
Mr. Pym sat down in a chair opposite Prance, the table being between them. "Begin at the beginning, Prance," he said. "This is a waste of time. How much of that night's occurrences did you see and hear?"
"You--you are not asking for the purpose of proving the crime against her, are you, sir?" demanded Prance.
"Of proving the crime against her, woman!" echoed Mr. Pym,served wrathfully. "Your mistress is past having anything of that sort proved against her: past its consequences, for that is, I presume, what you mean. Had I wished to bring it home to her, I should have stirred in it at the time. I have been as quiet and careful as you. Now then, begin. Let us hear what you had to do with it, and what brought you in the niche. You have not forgotten, I suppose?"