"To be sure, to be sure," said the squire, somewhat mollified, "but here comes Sloan."
An old man, whose erect form and sturdy step belied his grey hair and wrinkled brows, was seen approaching from the direction of the stables.
"Canst tell us anything more about this outrage, Sloan?"
The hostler was now close at hand and had removed his cap in deference to the gentlemen near him.
"A bad job, beant it, squire, as I was a-telling nephe Bob this marning. No, sir, I can't say as Hi knaws much. I 'eard Borlase barking savage-like last night, and I ups and slips quiet-like down from my room o'er the stables, and run through the paddock just in time to see the rogue on the other side of the 'edge. It was dark, squire, and I 'aven't the heye-sight I used to 'ave, and so I couldn't make un out who 'e was. This marning I looked around and found poor Borlase a-lying there and brought you word. That's all I knaws, only I 'opes the villain will be caught and 'anged."
"And did you see no person around the grounds late in the afternoon, George?" asked the parson.
"None, sir, except my nephe Bob, who comes hover to the stables to 'elp me in my work, now and then, but 'e always leaves afore evening. Now—as I think of it, Bob was a-telling me 'e 'ad seen Ande Trembath nigh the Prospidnic road gate, as 'e was going 'ome last night; 'e may 'ave seen the rogue and could tell you summat."
Blackness as of a thunder-cloud rolled across the old squire's features, and a purple stream of blood mounted and flushed his temples.
"Spawn of the traitor! He shall smart for it!"
"What a horrible oath! Squire, you are beside yourself," said the parson, with gentle, chiding reproof.