“There is witchcraft in it, I repeat,” he said.

“Yeigh, that there be,” responded old Mitton.

But the words were scarcely uttered, when he was felled to the ground by the bludgeon of James Device.

“Ey’d sarve thee i’ t’ same way, fo’ two pins,” said Jem, regarding Potts with a savage look.

“No violence, Jem,” cried Nicholas, authoritatively—­“you do harm to the cause you would serve by your outrageous conduct.”

“Beg pardon, squoire,” replied Jem, “boh ey winna hear lies towd abowt Mistress Nutter.”

“No one shan speak ill on her here,” cried the hinds.

“Well, Master Nowell,” said Nicholas, “are you willing to concede the matter at once, or will you pursue the investigation further?”

“I will ascertain the extent of the mischief done to me before I stop,” rejoined the magistrate, angrily.

“Forward, then,” cried Nicholas.  “Our course now lies along this footpath, with a croft on the left, and an old barn on the right.  Here the plans correspond, I believe, Master Potts?”

The attorney yielded a reluctant assent.

“There is next a small spring and trough on the right, and we then come to a limestone quarry—­then by a plantation called Cat Gallows Wood—­so named, because some troublesome mouser has been hanged there, I suppose, and next by a deep moss-pit, called Swallow Hole.  All right, eh, Master Potts?  We shall now enter upon Worston Moor, and come to the hut occupied by Jem Device, who can, it is presumed, speak positively as to its situation.”

“Very true,” cried Potts, as if struck by an idea.  “Let the rascal step forward.  I wish to put a few questions to him respecting his tenement.  I think I shall catch him now,” he added in a low tone to Nowell.

“Here ey be,” cried Jem, stepping up with an insolent and defying look.  “Whot d’ye want wi’ me?”

“First of all I would caution you to speak the truth,” commenced Potts, impressively, “as I shall take down your answers in my memorandum book, and they will be produced against you hereafter.”

“If he utters a falsehood I will commit him,” said Roger Nowell, sharply.

“Speak ceevily, an ey win gi’ yo a ceevil answer,” rejoined Jem, in a surly tone; “boh ey’m nah to be browbeaten.”

“First, then, is your hut in sight?” asked Potts.

“Neaw,” replied Jem.

“But you can point out its situation, I suppose?” pursued the attorney.

“Sartinly ey con,” replied Jem, without heeding a significant glance cast at him by the reeve.  “It stonds behind yon kloof, ot soide o’ t’ moor, wi’ a rindle in front.”

“Now mind what you say, sirrah,” cried Potts.  “You are quite sure the hut is behind the clough; and the rindle, which, being interpreted from your base vernacular, I believe means a gutter, in front of it?”

The reeve coughed slightly, but failed to attract Jem’s attention, who replied quickly, that he was quite sure of the circumstances.