“Indeed!” exclaimed Mistress Nutter, “are you the person he called Lawrence Fogg?”

“The same,” replied Demdike; “and no doubt you would hear a good report of me, madam.  Well, it suited my purpose to stay; for I was very hospitably entertained by the squire, who, except being rather too much addicted to lectures and psalm-singing, is as pleasant a host as one could desire; besides which, he was obliging enough to employ me to borrow money for him, and what I got, I kept, you may be sure.”

“I would willingly be spared the details of your knavery,” said Mistress Nutter, somewhat impatiently.

“I am coming to an end,” rejoined Demdike, “and then, perhaps, you may wish I had prolonged them.  All the squire’s secrets were committed to me, and I was fully aware of your concealment in the hall, but I could never ascertain precisely where you were lodged.  I meant to carry you off, and only awaited the opportunity which has presented itself to-night.”

“If you think to obtain money from me, you will find yourself mistaken,” said Mistress Nutter.  “I have parted with all my possessions.”

“But to whom, madam?” cried Demdike, with a sinister smile—­“to your daughter.  And I am sure she is too gentle, too tender-hearted, to allow you to suffer when she can relieve you.  You must get us a good round sum from her or you will be detained here long.  The dungeons are dark and unwholesome, and my band are apt to be harsh in their treatment of captives.  They have found in the vaults some instruments of torture belonging to old Blackburn, the freebooter, the efficacy of which in an obstinate case I fear they might be inclined to try.  You now begin to see the drift of my discourse, madam, and understand the sort of men you have to deal with—­barbarous fellows, madam—­inhuman dogs!”

And he laughed coarsely at his own jocularity.

“It may put an end to this discussion,” said Mistress Nutter firmly, “if I declare that no torture shall induce me to make any such demand from my daughter.”

“You think, perhaps, I am jesting with you, madam,” rejoined Demdike.

“Oh! no, I believe you capable of any atrocity,” replied the lady.  “You do not, either in feature or deeds, belie your parentage.”

“Ah! say you so, madam?” cried Demdike.  “You have a sharp tongue, I find.  Courtesy is thrown away upon you.  What, ho! lads—­Kenyon and Lowton, take the lady down to the vaults, and there let her have an hour for solitary reflection.  She may change her mind in that time.”

“Do not think it,” cried Mistress Nutter, resolutely.

“If you continue obstinate, we will find means to move you,” rejoined Demdike, in a taunting tone.  “But what has she got beneath her arm?  Give me the book.  What’s this?—­a Bible!  A witch with a Bible!  It should be a grimoire.  Ha! ha!”

“Give it me back, I implore of you,” shrieked the lady.  “I shall be destroyed, soul and body, if I have it not with me.”