Now, although Emlyn would have stopped her, still Cicely plied him with questions, which he answered as best he could, till suddenly a sound caught his ear.
“Look at the window!” he exclaimed.
They looked, and saw a sight that froze their blood, for there staring at them through the glass was the dark face of the Abbot, and with it other faces.
“Betray me not, or I shall burn,” he whispered. “Say only that I came to haunt you,” and silently as a shadow he glided to his niche and was gone.
“What now, Emlyn?”
“One thing only—Thomas must be saved. A bold face and stand to it. Is it our fault if your father’s ghost should haunt this chapel? Remember, your father’s ghost, no other. Ah! here they come.”
As she spoke the door was thrown wide, and through it came the Abbot and his rout of attendants. Within two paces of the women they halted, hanging together like bees, for they were afraid, while a voice cried, “Seize the witches!”
Cicely’s terror passed from her and she faced them boldly.
“What would you with us, my Lord Abbot?” she asked.
“We would know, Sorceress, what shape was that which spoke with you but now, and whither has it gone?”