the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He looked round for the tea-caddy.
"Up there," said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and pointing to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf.
Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce.
"Old country, eh?"
"My mother's," said Bruce, soberly.
"I could have sworn it was my aunt's in Balleymena," said Moore. "My aunt lived in a little stone cottage with roses all over the front of it." And on he went into an enthusiastic description of his early home. His voice was full of music, soft and soothing, and poor Bruce sank back and listened, the glitter fading from his eyes.
The Duke and I looked at each other.
"Not too bad, eh?" said The Duke, after a few moments' silence.
"Let's put up the horses," I suggested. "They won't want us for half an hour."
When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just finished washing the blood stains from Bruce 's arms and neck.
