A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat.
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