A common staircase led to all the floors, but I encountered no one as I toiled to the top of all, where stood Biddy, with her finger up, motioning to me to be silent.
It went to my heart to see the two poor rooms into which I was ushered-- one occupied as a bedroom and sitting-room by the old couple, the other as a kitchen and bedroom by Biddy.

The walls were plain plaster, behind which you could hear rats running.

The ceiling was low and black with smoke, the windows small and broken.

The furniture, once good, was faded and in rents; and the few luxuries, such as books and pictures, looked so forlorn that the place would have seemed more comfortable without them.
All this I took in as I advanced into the room at Biddy's heels.
"Plaze, yer honour, this is Barry Gallagher from Knockowen with a message for yez." Mr Lestrange sat dozing beside the fire, with a _Moniteur_ on his knee.
His wife, a sweet and placid-looking woman, sat opposite him knitting.
At the sound of Biddy's announcement both started to their feet.
"A message!" exclaimed Mr Lestrange; "what message ?" "None too cheery," said I, anxious not to raise false hopes.
I then recounted my adventures by the road, and ended up with reciting the contents (or most of them) of the letter from my lady at Knockowen.
I took care to omit the little sentence about Miss Kit's interest in Captain Lestrange's movements, which did not seem to me worth recalling.
Mr Lestrange's face fell heavily as he heard me out.
"No money!" he groaned.

"We are still penned here.