“She has killed him!” cried Higgler. “She has killed him with her hellish power!”
“Witch! A murderous young witch!”
“Condemn her! Condemn her!” came in a terrible chorus.
“To the gallows! Hale her to the gallows!” Randolph added from the rear.
The man called Gallows thought this referred to him. He grinned. He and the two brutes who had handled many defenseless witches before, came toward the girl, who stood as if petrified, her hand pressed against her heart in dumb anguish.
Suddenly the door was thrown open and in there came Governor Phipps, cane in hand, periwig adjusted, cloak of office on his shoulders. He was blowing his nose as he entered, so that no one saw his face plainly, yet all knew the tall, commanding figure and the dress.
“What, a trial, at night, and without me?” he roared, in a towering rage, which many present had already learned to fear. “Is this your province, you magistrates, assembled to deal out justice? Do you heckle a defenseless woman like this? Disperse!—the whole of you, instantly. I command it! If you have condemned, I pardon. The prisoner will leave the court with me!”
The men, craven that they were, he could deceive, but Garde knew the voice, the gait, the bearing of her lover. She sprang to his side with a little cry of gladness and clung to him wildly, as his strong arm swung boldly about her waist. She could hardly more than stand, so tremendous had been the stress of her fearful emotions.
Scorning to expend further scolding or shaming upon them, and comprehending that delay had no part in his game, Adam turned his back on the slinking company and strode away, half supporting Garde, who hung so limply in his hold.
Randolph, baffled, afraid to reveal himself by denouncing the imposture which he had been only a second behind Garde in detecting, stole close to his henchmen and whispered the truth in their ears.