himself. The cups and saucers were laid ready. He poured it out, and handed me a cup.

‘Wash away your spleen,’ he said. ‘And help your own naughty pet and mine. It is not poisoned, though I prepared it. I’m going out to seek your horses.’

Our first thought, on his departure, was to force an exit somewhere. We tried the kitchen door, but that was fastened outside: we looked at the windows - they were too narrow for even Cathy’s little figure.

‘Master Linton,’ I cried, seeing we were regularly imprisoned, ‘you know what your diabolical father is after, and you shall tell us, or I’ll box your ears, as he has done your cousin’s.’

‘Yes, Linton, you must tell,’