What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. "I shall state my suspicions to the governor. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him.
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