"You will not be troubled," he said, "it hath a bad name. Spirits of the dead are said to haunt this moor."
"The Killigrews fear not man nor devil, especially Otho," I replied.
"Come, you have much to tell me," was his answer. "At present no man is in sight, but come. The lady Nancy and her serving-maid will want food and rest, and there is trouble in your eyes."
I followed him as he climbed towards the summit of his hiding-place, but I found it a difficult task, for it was almost perpendicular; the foot-places were but narrow, too, and the holding-places few. But Uncle Anthony went easily, like one who had ascended and descended many times, as indeed he had.
I discovered that the building in which the old man lived was divided into two apartments. The one he had used for domestic purposes, and the other for prayer and meditation. The latter was the one known at St. Michael's Chapel.
"It is but little I can offer," remarked he; "but such as I have give I unto thee. Come, we will go where the lady and her serving-maid resteth."
As I entered the strange hiding-place, Mistress Nancy looked eagerly towards me as if expecting danger, but I quickly dispelled her fears, and a few minutes later we were all eating such fare as Uncle Anthony had been able to provide. Little was said during the meal; all of us were apprehensive of danger, and, when we had eaten, the old man led me into the chapel.
"I can guess much," he said, "perchance you will wish to tell me more."
I hesitated, for in truth I wot not how much to tell. I knew next to nothing of the story-teller, who led such a strange existence. Who was the man who masqueraded one day as a traveling droll, and the next as hermit? Moreover, how came he to know my name? That he was a man possessed of great powers of penetration was easily to be seen, and I felt almost afraid as he fixed his keen gray eyes upon me.
I looked from the window and saw three horsemen coming along the road we had travelled, and pointed towards them.