"What of this Bridget? Does she go free?"

The Bishop made no answer; it seemed as though he were frightened at the
forces which he had let loose; but the Abbot hallooed back--

"Burn the hag with the others," and the secretary wrote it down upon his
brief.

Then the guards seized the three of them to lead them away, and the
frightened babe set up a thin, piercing wail, while the Bishop and his
companions, preceded by one of the monks bearing the candle--it was that
Ambrose who had choked Emlyn--marched in procession down the hall to
gain the great door.

Ere ever they reached it the candle was dashed from the hand of Ambrose,
and a fearful tumult arose in the dense darkness, for now all light
had vanished. There were screams, and sounds of fighting, and cries for
help. These died away; the hall emptied by degrees, for it seemed that
none wished to stay there. Torches were lit, and showed a strange scene.

The Bishop, the Abbot, and the foreign Prior lay here and there,
buffeted, bleeding, their robes torn off them, so that they were almost
naked, while by the Bishop was his crozier, broken in two, apparently
across his own head. Worse of all, the monk Ambrose leaned against a
pillar; his feet seemed to go forward but his face looked backward, for
his neck was twisted like that of a Michaelmas goose.

The Bishop looked about him and felt his hurts; then he called to his
people--

"Bring me my cloak and a horse, for I have had enough of Blossholme and
its wizardries. Settle your own matters henceforth, Abbot Maldon, for in
them I find no luck," and he glanced at his broken staff.

Thus ended the great trial of the Blossholme witches.

Cicely had sunk to sleep at last, and Emlyn watched her, for, since
there was nowhere else to put them, they were back in their own room,
but guarded by armed men, lest they should escape. Of this, as Emlyn
knew well, there was little chance, for even if they were once outside
the Priory walls, how could they get away without friends to help, or
food to eat, or horses to carry them? They would be run down within a
mile. Moreover, there was the child, which Cicely would never leave,
and, after all she had undergone, she herself was not fit to travel.
Therefore it was that Emlyn sat sleepless, full of bitter wrath and
fear, for she could see no hope. All was black as the night about them.

The door opened, and was shut and locked again. Then, from behind the
curtain, appeared