“Yes, it is necessary that you be considered under arrest,” went on the commander, “though never did a jailer serve a warrant with less liking for the task. For, mark you, Amherst, I had a liking for you as soon as you and the sweet maid came in, and the affection has grown when I see how well you can fight,” and all the while he was turning the document over and over in his hand, as if he had hold of an unpleasant object. He looked on both sides of the parchment, but made no move to open it and learn the contents. Simon was watching both of us with a pleased light in his eyes.
“Since then you are under arrest,” proceeded the Captain, “I believe it is in accord with the law that I read the warrant to you. I am not very well versed in legal lore, but, mayhap, I can make some small shift at this.”
Thereupon Carteret, assuming a dignified air, that was in strange keeping with his powder-grimed face, and his battle-torn clothing, opened the warrant. He read over the first few lines to himself, and then burst out with:
“Providence preserve us! But this is more than passing wonderful and strange! Can it be that I read aright?”
And while Simon watched him eagerly, and I with fear at what was to come, the Captain read what was written, skipping half a dozen words, every now and then.
“‘Warrant--hum--for one Captain Edward Amherst--hum--did on divers occasions--hum--practice the said detestable arts, wickedly and feloniously and traitorously, upon and against--hum--the deponents John Bly, Deliverance Hobbs and Benjamin Proctor.’ What is this? ‘Wherefore, that is to say, the said--in manner following--hum--is hereby charged with witchcraft.’
“Witchcraft!” he fairly shouted at the end. “Witchcraft? Has that vile malady come among us?”
“Witchcraft?” faltered Simon, his face white with fear.
“Witchcraft?” I cried out, wondering what would happen next.
“Witchcraft? Who talks of witchcraft?” asked a sweet voice behind us, and we turned to behold Lucille, who had come in unobserved.