“The proofs,” he whispered, and started when the word was out. It seemed to Hildegarde that he held the weather-beaten bundle tighter still, and still he put off telling what she wanted most to know. As if he couldn’t bring himself, after all, to yield the secret up. “Think,” he whispered. “We could set the world ringing with it, Ky. Only we mustn’t.”
“Yes, yes, but you must!” Hildegarde half started to her feet.
“No. Not after—I swore an oath, you see.”
“To—”
That motion of the wild head: “The One up yonder.”
CHAPTER XXV
“What One up yonder?” Hildegarde’s voice was as hushed as his own.