The old man followed Holmes out.
"Marster Holmes"——
"Have done with this," said Holmes, sternly. "Whoever breaks law abides by it. It is no affair of mine."
The old man clutched his hands together fiercely, struggling to be quiet.
"Ther' 's none knows it but yoh," he said, in a smothered voice. "Fur God's sake be merciful! It'll kill my girl,—it 'll kill her. Gev me a chance, Marster."
"You trouble me. I must do what is just."
"It's not just," he said, savagely. "What good'll it do me to go back ther'? I was goin' down, down, an' bringin' th' others with me. What good'll it do you or the rest to hev me ther'? To make me afraid? It's poor learnin' frum fear. Who taught me what was right? Who cared? No man cared fur my soul, till I thieved 'n' robbed; 'n' then judge 'n' jury 'n' jailers was glad to pounce on me. Will yoh gev me a chance? will yoh?"
It was a desperate face before him; but Holmes never knew fear.
"Stand aside," he said, quietly. "To-morrow I will see you. You need not try to escape."
He passed him, and went slowly up through the vacant mill to his chamber.