“It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Spurling was standing near the fire superintending some culinary preparation; but she no sooner perceived him, than hastily quitting her occupation, she elbowed a way for him and the knight through the crowd, and ushered them, with much ceremony, into an inner room, where they found the objects of their search, Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok, seated at a small table, quietly smoking.
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