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'Well, you see, sir, your description might apply to a good many; but if
it's the man I think you mean he lives in one of the cottages behind the
church. Old Barlow, they call him.'
'There can't be two such men--he must be at least a century old. If any
one told me he were a hundred and twenty I shouldn't be inclined to
doubt the fact. I never saw such a shrivelled, wrinkled visage,
bloodless, too, as if the poor old wretch never felt your fresh mountain
air upon his hollow cheeks. A dreadful face. It will haunt me for a
month.'
'It must be old Barlow,' replied Steadman. 'Good day, sir.'
He walked on with his swinging step, and at such a pace that he was up
the side of the Fell and close upon old Barlow's heels when Hammond
turned to look after him five minutes later.
'There's a man who shows few traces of age, at any rate,' thought
Hammond. 'Yet her ladyship told me that he is over seventy.'


CHAPTER XIX.
THE OLD MAN ON THE FELL.

Having made up his mind to stay at Fellside until after Easter,
Maulevrier settled down very quietly--for him.


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