Bill was silent for some time, It had never occurred to him that this letter would be brought home to him.
“Come, Bill, you must tell me,” Ned said. “Do not be afraid. I promise you that I will not use it against him. Mind, if I can bring it home to him in any other way I shall do so; but I promise you that no word shall ever pass my lips about the letter. I want to know who is the man of whose crime the world believes me guilty. The secret shall, as far as he is concerned, be just as much a secret as it was before.”
“But oi dunno who is the man, Maister Ned. If oi did oi would ha' gone into the court and said so, even though oi had been sure they would ha' killed me for peaching when oi came back. Oi dunno no more than a child.”
“Then you only wrote that letter to throw them on to a false scent, Bill? Who put you up to that, for I am sure it would never have occurred to you?”
“No,” Bill said slowly, “oi should never ha' thought of it myself; Luke told oi what to wroit, and I wroited it.”
“Oh, it was Luke! was it?” Ned said sharply. “Then the man who did it must have told him.”
“Oi didn't mean to let out as it waar Luke,” Bill said in confusion; “and oi promised him solemn to say nowt about it.”
“Well,” Ned said, turning sharp round and starting on his way back to the village, “I must see Luke himself.”
Bill in great perplexity followed Ned, muttering: “Oh, Lor'! what ull Luke say to oi? What a fellow oi be to talk, to be sure!”
Nothing further was said until they reached Luke's cottage. Ned knocked and entered at once, followed sheepishly by Bill.