"The facts, if you please?"
The Master's voice had of a sudden become cold, even stern. He flung the words much as one dashes a cupful of water in the face of an hysterical woman. They brought Mr. Simeon to himself. His gaze shivered and fixed itself on the Master's, as in a compass-box you may see the needle tremble to magnetic north. He gripped the arms of his chair, caught his voice, and went on desperately.
"This afternoon it was.… On my way here I went around, as I go daily, by the Cathedral, to hear if the workmen have found any fresh defects.… They had opened a new pit by the south-east corner, a few yards from the first, and as I came by one of the men was levering away with a crowbar at a large stone not far below the surface. I waited while he worked it loose, and then, lifting it with both hands, he flung it on to the edge of the pit.… By the shape we knew it at once for an old gravestone that, falling down long ago, had somehow sunk and been covered by the turf. There was lettering, too, upon the undermost side when the man turned it over. He scraped the earth away with the flat of his hands, and together we made out what was written."
Mr. Simeon fumbled in his waistcoat, drew forth a scrap of paper, and handed it to the Master.
"I copied it down then and there: no, not at once. At first I looked up, afraid to see the whole building falling, falling upon me—"
The Master did not hear. He had unfolded the paper. Adjusting his spectacles, he read: "God have Mercy on the Soul of Giles Tonkin. Obiit Dec. 17th, 1643. No man can serve two masters."
"A strange text for a tombstone," he commented. "And the date—1643? That is the year when our city surrendered in the Parliament wars. … Who knows but this may have marked the grave of a man shot because he hesitated too long in taking sides… or perchance in his flurry he took both, and tried to serve two masters."
"Master, I am that man.… Do not look at me so! I mean that, whether he knew it or not, he died to save me… that his stone has risen up for witness, driving me to you. Ah, do not weaken me, now that I am here to confess!"
And leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands spread to hide his face, Mr. Simeon blurted out his confession.
When he had ended there was silence in the room for a space.