‘The oldest man—the old shepherd.’
‘Dead at last—how old is he?’
‘Ninety-four.’
‘And I am only seventy. I have four-and-twenty years to the good!’
‘I served under that old man when I kept sheep on Marlbury Downs. And he was on the hill that second night, when I first exchanged words with your Grace. He was on the hill all the time; but I did not know he was there—nor did you.’
‘Ah!’ said the Duke, starting up. ‘Go on—I yield the point—you may tell!’
‘I heard this afternoon that he was at the point of death. It was that which set me thinking of that past time—and induced me to search on the hill for what I have told you. Coming back I heard that he wished to see the Vicar to confess to him a secret he had kept for more than twenty years—“out of respect to my Lord the Duke”—something that he had seen committed on Marlbury Downs when returning to the flock on a December night twenty-two years ago. I have thought it over. He had left me in charge that evening; but he was in the habit of coming back suddenly, lest I should have fallen asleep. That night I saw nothing of him, though he had promised to return. He must have returned, and—found reason to keep in hiding. It is all plain. The next thing is that the Vicar went to him two hours ago. Further than that I have not heard.’
‘It is quite enough. I will see the Vicar at daybreak to-morrow.’
‘What to do?’
‘Stop his tongue for four-and-twenty years—till I am dead at ninety-four, like the shepherd.’