"No. Nugent has been seen walking towards the hills."
He took my hand again. "Be merciful to me," he said. "Let me go."
"Home? To Browndown?"
"Yes."
"Let me go with you."
He shook his head. "Forgive me. You shall hear from me later in the day."
No tears! no flaming-up of the quick temper that I knew so well! Nothing in his face, nothing in his voice, nothing in his manner, but a composure miserable to see—the composure of despair.
"At least, let me accompany you to the gate," I said.
"God bless and reward you!" he answered. "Let me go."
With a gentle hand—and yet with a firmness which took me completely by surprise—he separated himself from me, and went out.