“Need you ask that, sir? Who else have I got to help me?” “I am ready and willing to help you--but I can’t do it unless I know first what has passed between you and Miss de Sor. Will you trust me?” “I will!” “May I depend on you?” “Try me!” CHAPTER XXXV. THE TREACHERY OF THE PIPE. Alban took Mrs. Ellmother at her word. “I am going to venture on a guess,” he said. “You have been with Miss de Sor to-night.” “Quite true, Mr. Morris.” “I am going to guess again. Did Miss de Sor ask you to stay with her, when you went into her room?” “That’s it! She rang for me, to see how I was getting on with my needlework--and she was what I call hearty, for the first time since I have been in her service. I didn’t think badly of her when she first talked of engaging me; and I’ve had reason to repent of my opinion ever since. Oh, she showed the cloven foot to-night! ‘Sit down,’ she says; ‘I’ve nothing to read, and I hate work; let’s have a little chat.’ She’s got a glib tongue of her own. All I could do was to say a word now and then to keep her going. She talked and talked till it was time to light the lamp. She was particular in telling me to put the shade over it. We were half in the dark, and half in the light. She trapped me (Lord knows how!) into talking about foreign parts; I mean the place she lived in before they sent her to England. Have you heard that she comes from the West Indies?” “Yes; I have heard that. Go on.” “Wait a bit, sir. There’s something, by your leave, that I want to know. Do you believe in Witchcraft?” “I know nothing about it. Did Miss de Sor put that question to you?” “She did.” “And how did you answer?” “Neither in one way nor the other. I’m in two minds about that matter of Witchcraft. When I was a girl, there was an old woman in our village, who was a sort of show. People came to see her from all the country round--gentlefolks among them. It was her great age that made her famous. More than a hundred years old, sir! One of our neighbors didn’t believe in her age, and she heard of it. She cast a spell on his flock. I tell you, she sent a plague on his sheep, the plague of the Bots. The whole flock died; I remember it well. Some said the sheep would have had the Bots anyhow. Some said it was the spell. Which of them was right? How am I to settle it?” “Did you mention this to Miss de Sor?” “I was obliged to mention it. Didn’t I tell you, just now, that I can’t make up my mind about Witchcraft? ‘You don’t seem to know whether you believe or disbelieve,’ she says. It made me look like a fool. I told her I had my reasons, and then I was obliged to give them.” “And what did she do then?” “She said, ‘I’ve got a better story of Witchcraft than yours.’ And she opened a little book, with a lot of writing in it, and began to read. Her story made my flesh creep. It turns me cold, sir, when I think of it now.”