a voice cried,
"Seize the witches!"

Cicely's terror passed from her and she faced them boldly.

"What would you with us, my Lord Abbot?" she asked.

"We would know, Sorceress, what shape was that which spoke with you but
now, and whither has it gone?"

"The same that saved my child and called the Sword of God down upon the
murderess. It wore my father's armour, but its face I did not see. It
has gone whence it came, but where that is I know not. Discover if you
can."

"Woman, you trifle with us. What said the Thing?"

"It spoke of the slaughter of Sir John Foterell by King's Grave Mount
and of those who wrought it," and she looked at him steadily until his
eyes fell before hers.

"What else?"

"It told me that my husband is not dead. Neither did you bury him as you
put about, but shipped him hence to Spain, whence it prophesied he will
return again to be revenged upon you. It told me that he was captured by
the infidel Moors, and with him Jeffrey Stokes, my father's servant, and
the priest Martin, your secretary. Then it looked up and vanished, or
seemed to vanish, though perhaps it is among us now."

"Aye," answered the Abbot, "Satan, with whom you hold converse, is
always among us. Cicely Foterell and Emlyn Stower, you are foul witches,
self-confessed. The world has borne your sorceries too long, and you
shall answer for them before God and man, as I, the Lord Abbot of
Blossholme, have right and authority to make you do. Seize these witches
and let them be kept fast in their chamber till I constitute the Court
Ecclesiastic for their trial."

So they took hold of Cicely and Emlyn and led them to the Nunnery. As
they crossed the garden they were met by Mother Matilda and the nuns,
who, for a second time within a month, ran out to see what was the
tumult in the chapel.

"What is it now, Cicely?" asked the Prioress.

"Now we are witches, Mother," she answered, with a sad smile.

"Aye," broke in Emlyn, "and the charge is that the ghost of the murdered
Sir John Foterell was seen speaking to us."

"Why, why?" exclaimed the Prioress. "If the spirit of a woman's father
appears to her is she therefore to be declared a witch? Then is poor
Sister Bridget a witch also, for this same spirit brought the child to
her?"

"Aye," said the Abbot, "I had forgotten her. She is another of the crew,
let her be seized and shut up also. Greatly do I hope, when it comes to
the hour of trial, that there may not be found to