“Very well,” said Potts—­“you have all heard the answer.  He is quite sure as to what he states.  Now, then, I suppose you can tell whether the hut looks to the north or the south; whether the door opens to the moor or to the clough; and whether there is a path leading from it to a spot called Hook Cliff?”

At this moment Jem caught the eye of the reeve, and the look given him by the latter completely puzzled him.

“Ey dunna reetly recollect which way it looks,” he answered.

“What! you prevaricating rascal, do you pretend to say that you do not know which way your own dwelling stands,” thundered Roger Nowell.  “Speak out, sirrah, or Sparshot shall take you into custody at once.”

“Ey’m ready, your worship,” replied the beadle.

“Weel, then,” said Jem, imperfectly comprehending the signs made to him by the reeve, “the hut looks nather to t’ south naw to t’ north, but to t’ west; it feaces t’ moor; an there is a path fro’ it to Hook Cliff.”

As he finished speaking, he saw from the reeve’s angry gestures that he had made a mistake, but it was now too late to recall his words.  However, he determined to make an effort.

“Now ey bethink me, ey’m naw sure that ey’m reet,” he said.

“You must be sure, sirrah,” said Roger Nowell, bending his awful brows upon him.  “You cannot be mistaken as to your own dwelling.  Take down his description, Master Potts, and proceed with your interrogatories if you have any more to put to him.”

“I wish to ask him whether he has been at home to-day,” said Potts.

“Answer, fellow,” thundered the magistrate.

Before replying, Jem would fain have consulted the reeve, but the latter had turned away in displeasure.  Not knowing whether a lie would serve his turn, and fearing he might be contradicted by some of the bystanders, he said he had not been at home for two days, but had returned the night before at a late hour from Whalley, and had slept at Rough Lee.

“Then you cannot tell what changes may have taken place in your dwelling during your absence?” said Potts.

“Of course not,” replied Jem, “boh ey dunna see how ony chawnges con ha’ happent i’ so short a time.”

“But I do, if you do not, sirrah,” said Potts.  “Be pleased to give me your plan, Master Newell.  I have a further question to ask him,” he added, after consulting it for a moment.

“Ey win awnser nowt more,” replied Jem, gruffly.

“You will answer whatever questions Master Potts may put to you, or you are taken into custody,” said the magistrate, sternly.

Jem would have willingly beaten a retreat; but being surrounded by the two grooms and Sparshot, who only waited a sign from Nowell to secure him, or knock him down if he attempted to fly, he gave a surly intimation that he was ready to speak.

“You are aware that a dyke intersects the heath before us, namely, Worston Moor?” said Potts.