Then I perceived that the newcomers were led on by as evil-looking a young man as you could see anywhere. His dress showed him to be a knight, but anything more unknightly than his manner and his conduct could not well be found; he seemed just like the knaves who formed his company, and an ill-looking lot they were, with scarcely a whole garment among them. 'Oh, mistress,' said Timothy, who had left his horses that he might have speech with me. 'Yon is Sir Claudius Crossley, who is said to be your father's sworn enemy. I pray you make haste and get into the litter before he recognizes you. Then we will drive away as fast as the horses can take us.' 'Save me! Save me, lady!' cried the old woman, clinging to my feet, as my hands tried to drag her away. How could I desert her? It was hard on my servants, but I would not listen to their advice. For I saw nothing, heard nothing but that pitiful old woman, with her despairing cries to me to save her, and the menacing crowd of villains thirsting for her life. CHAPTER II My Champion I began to speak again to the villains, repeating much that I had said before, with even greater earnestness. Sir Claudius Crossley stared at me, and listened for a moment or two with a bewildered air. Then perceiving the drift of my words, he rudely shouted to me to shut my mouth, and, signing to his men, they caught up the old woman at my feet and bundled her along to the side of the other victim, interposing several of their broad backs between me and the poor old creatures. The road being now completely blocked by the shouting men and boys, my servants closed round me and literally carried me back to the litter. In truth they were themselves of the opinion that the old women were witches, who had sold themselves to the devil for a term of years, and ought therefore to be put to death. I was perforce obliged to sit in my litter, but it could not proceed because of the crowd which blocked the way. I would not look towards the wretched scene, but Betsy would not refrain from telling me every detail of what was taking place with the supposed witches and their enemies. 'Both old women are witches, mistress,' she cried. 'I thought so, and now I know it; they are ugly as sin. The men are making them confess. The way they do it is to pull their hair and screw their wrists until they say for what sum the devil has bought their souls, and for what length of time they have bound themselves to serve him. No, mistress, Timothy will not allow you to interfere. He promised Sir Henry that he would take you safely to Sion House, near London, and he means to do it. Now, mistress, they are tying the witches' thumbs together--the two of them are being tied together by the thumbs, I mean--and now they are going to throw them into the water. If they do not sink, they will know they are witches, and will force them under; if they sink, they will drown, so there will be an end of them in any case.'