A dry ditch was dug deep about it; but it was now choked with masonry, and bridged by a fallen rafter.

The two farther walls still stood, the sun shining through their empty windows; but the remainder of the building had collapsed, and now lay in a great cairn of ruin, grimed with fire.

Already in the interior a few plants were springing green among the chinks.
"Now I bethink me," whispered Dick, "this must be Grimstone.

It was a hold of one Simon Malmesbury; Sir Daniel was his bane! 'Twas Bennet Hatch that burned it, now five years agone.

In sooth, 'twas pity, for it was a fair house." Down in the hollow, where no wind blew, it was both warm and still; and Matcham, laying one hand upon Dick's arm, held up a warning finger.
"Hist!" he said.
Then came a strange sound, breaking on the quiet.