"If you have been to Blackstone, you have heard that the inquest is over, James," observed Mrs. Chattaway, anxious to turn the conversation from the subject of last night. "Did you hear the verdict?"
"I heard it," he growled.
"It is not an agreeable verdict," remarked Miss Diana. "Better you had made these improvements in the mine—as I urged upon you long ago—than wait to be forced to do them."
"I am not forced yet," retorted Chattaway. "They must——Halloa! What's that?"
His sudden exclamation called them both to the window. A bright light, a blaze, was shooting up into the sky. At the same moment a shrill scream of terror—the scream from Bridget—arose with it.
"The rick-yard!" exclaimed Miss Diana. "It is on fire!"
Mr. Chattaway stood for an instant as one paralysed. The next he was leaping down the stairs, something like a yell bursting from him.