” He sat like a man turned to stone. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later.
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