“Then say we take him to prison round by his worship.”
It was agreed. They got the money; and bade Gerard observe they were doing him a favour. He saw they wanted a little gratitude as well as much silver. He tried to satisfy this cupidity, but it stuck in his throat. Feigning was not his forte.
He entered the alderman's presence with his heart in his mouth, and begged with faltering voice to know what he had done to offend since he left that very room with Manon and Denys.
“Nought that I know of,” said the alderman.
On the writ being shown him, he told Gerard he had signed it at daybreak. “I get old, and my memory faileth me: a discussing of the girl I quite forgot your own offence: but I remember now. All is well. You are he I committed for sorcery. Stay! ere you go to gaol, you shall hear what your accuser says: run and fetch him, you.”
The man could not find the accuser all at once. So the alderman, getting impatient, told Gerard the main charge was that he had set a dead body a burning with diabolical fire, that flamed, but did not consume. “And if 'tis true, young man, I'm sorry for thee, for thou wilt assuredly burn with fire of good pine logs in the market-place of Neufchasteau.”
“Oh, sir, for pity's sake let me have speech with his reverence the cure.”
The alderman advised Gerard against it. “The Church was harder upon sorcerers than was the corporation.”
“But, sir, I am innocent,” said Gerard, between snarling and whining.
“Oh, if you think you are innocent—officer, go with him to the cure; but see he 'scape you not. Innocent, quotha?”