"You have done right, Roger. I hope you will always be as mindful of your old friend. But what's the matter?"
"Do you think there are any witches living to-day?"
"Witches! Witches, why certainly, my boy; and yet I don't know exactly——"
And the vicar broke off abruptly, as though he were exceedingly doubtful about the matter.
"What do you mean, Mr. Polperrow?"
"I mean this, Roger. There are a great many women who have been condemned as witches when they have simply had the gift of second sight. During the reign of the Stuarts, hundreds were put to death as witches and wizards, and yet I am not sure, but they were innocent people. Don't mistake me, my boy; I'm not going against the Scriptures. I know that witches get their power from the devil—that is, real witches; but I verily believe that a lot of women who suffered in the time of James I were good women, who, through their goodness, obtained knowledge unknown to the generality of people."
"And ghosts, what about them?"
"Roger, I would rather not talk about them now." The vicar's voice was low and husky.
I thereupon told him about my encounter with Deborah Teague and what she had said, after which I asked him if I should go and see her.
Mr. Polperrow was some time before he answered. "I am not sure," he said, at length, "that old Deborah deserves all that has been said about her. She is a sensible old dame, and has searched out the healing qualities of many of the plants growing around, and thus has gained her reputation as a doctor; besides this, she has a curious way of making the silly folk here do as she tells them; but beyond this I believe a great deal of the talk is so much nonsense."