‘Nothing!’ he said, anger in his voice. ‘And why was he here? He knows there’s no work at present and I’ve given him and the other workers money to make up for loss of earnings.’

‘He was watching by the gate and saw you leave,’ she told him. ‘He came up ’office steps after you’d gone. I saw him from the window, Mr Tannerson. There’s a good view over ’yard.’

He gave a sudden grin. ‘I know there is. I placed the desk there deliberately.’

She gave a grim laugh. ‘Thoughtful indeed,’ she agreed. ‘But if I’m to keep this desk it needs to be moved slightly nearer, as I’m a few inches shorter than you are and I was standing by the window when I saw him. And by the way, he might not come back unless he really is brass-necked.’ She wondered if he understood the local term for shameless, but he did, so she went on. ‘Because I told him that I’d be vetting a new workforce when ’milling begins again.’

He looked at her and she saw admiration in his eyes. ‘Mm,’ he said. ‘You remind me of my late wife. She was fearless too.’

He told her that he’d been to see the vicar of St Mary’s regarding the funerals of Jim Smith and the young boy whose name he thought was Benny. ‘They maybe could be buried together, though I might have to visit the workhouse to ask if they know anything more about him. He can’t be buried if we’re not even sure of his name.’

Lizzie gazed at him; he must be a decent sort of man to take the trouble to do that for an unknown child; especially, she thought, as it seemed likely that the young lad had climbed up and closed all the vents in the mill so that he could keep warm, thus inadvertently probably causing the disaster.

‘Poor little lad,’ Tannerson muttered. ‘A short life, but not a merry one. It makes you wonder why he was alone except for Jim Smith … and to die in such a way.’

He looked very downcast and Lizzie guessed that he was sorry that such a tragedy had happened on his premises, so she said gently, ‘It would have been quick, you know. He wouldn’t have known much.’

He nodded. Then he suddenly straightened his shoulders. ‘Have you much else to do, Mrs Robson? Because if you haven’t I suggest we lock up the office – securely,’ he added, ‘and go to a nearby hostelry where they cook a very good meat pie.’