y
answered: "Nowt of the sort, John; it's a fate, I tell, tha." The
peddler's pony was standing by the hasp of the gate.

Never once lifting his eyes, with head bent and compressed lips, Hugh
Ritson rode on in the teeth of the coming storm. There was another storm
within that was uprooting every emotion of his soul. When he came to the
vicarage he drew up sharply and rapped heavily on the gate. Brother
Peter came shambling out at the speed of six steps a minute.

"Mr. Christian at home?" asked Hugh.

"Don't know as he is," said Peter.

"Where is he?"

"Don't know as I've heard."

"Tell him I'll call as I come back, in two hours."

"Don't know as I'll see him."

"Then go and look for him!" shouted Hugh, impatiently bringing down the
whip on the flank of the horse.

Brother Peter Ward turned about sulkily.

"Don't know as I will," he grumbled, and trudged back into the house.

Then Hugh Ritson rode on. A thin sleet began to fall, and it drove hard
into his face. The roads were crisp, and the horse sometimes stumbled;
but the rider pressed on.

In less than half an hour he was riding into the town. The people who
were standing in groups in the market-place parted and made space for
him. They hailed him with respectful salutations. He responded curtly or
not at all. Notwithstanding his long ride, his face was still pale, and
his lips were bloodless. He stopped at the court-yard leading to the
front of the Pack Horse. Old Willie Calvert, the innkeeper, stood there,
and touched his cap when Hugh approached him.

"My brother Paul slept here a few nights ago, I hear?" said Hugh.

"So he did," said the innkeeper.

"What night was it?"

"What night? Let me see--it were a week come Wednesday."

"Did you see him yourself?"

"Nay; I were lang abed."

"Who did--Mistress Calvert?"

"Ey--she did for sure--Janet" (calling up the court). "She'll tell ye
all the ins and oots."

A comfortable-looking elderly body in a white cap and print apron came
to the door.

"You saw my brother--Paul, you know--when he slept at your house last
Wednesday night?"

"Yes, surely," said Janet.

"What did he say?"

"Nay, nowt. It was verra late--maybe twelve o'clock--and I was bolting
up and had the cannel in my hand to get me to bed, and a rap came, and
when I opened the door who should it be but Mister Paul. He said he
wanted a bed, but he seem't to be in the doldrums and noways keen for a
crack, so I ax't na questions, b