"There is some trickery in this," said the Proprietary. "It may scarce be accounted for on any pretence of witchcraft, or sorcery, although I know there are malignant influences at work in the province which find motive enough to do all the harm they can. Has Fendall, or any of his confederates had commerce with this house, Captain Dauntrees? Can you suspect such intercourse?" "Assuredly not, my Lord," replied the Captain, "for Marshall, who is the most insolent of that faction, hath, to my personal knowledge, the greatest dread of the chapel of all other men I have seen. Besides, these terrors have flourished in the winter-night tales of the neighbourhood, ever since the death of Kelpy, and long before the Fendalls grew so pestilent in the province." "It is the blood of the fisherman, my good Lord, and of his wife and children that stains the floor," said Arnold; "it is that blood which brings the evil spirits together about the old hearth. Twice every day the blood-spots upon the floor freshen and grow strong, as the tide comes to flood;--at the ebb they may be hardly seen." "You have witnessed this yourself, Arnold?" "At the ebb, Lord Charles. I did not stay for the change of tide. When I saw the spots it was as much as we could do to make them out.--But at the flood every body says they are plain." "It is a weighty matter, a very weighty matter, an it like your Lordship's honour," muttered forth the slim voice of Garret Weasel, who had insinuated himself, by slow approach, into the rear of the company, near enough to hear a part of this conversation, and who now fancied that his interest in the subject would ensure him an unrebuked access to the Proprietary--"and your Lordship hath a worthy care for the fears of the poor people touching the abominations of the Wizard's Chapel." "What brought thee here, Garret Weasel?" inquired the Proprietary, as he turned suddenly upon the publican and looked him steadfastly in the face--"What wonder hast thou to tell to excuse thy lurking at our heels?" "Much and manifold, our most noble Lord, touching the rumours," replied the confused innkeeper, with a thick utterance. "And it is the most notable thing about it that Robert Swale--Rob o' the Trencher, as he is commonly called--your Lordship apprehends I mean the Cripple--that Rob lives so near the Wizard's Chapel. There's matter of consideration in that--if your Lordship will weigh it." "Fie, Master Garret Weasel! Fie on thee! Thou art in thy cups. I grieve to see thee making a beast of thyself. You had a name for sobriety. Look that you lose it not again. Captain Dauntrees if the publican has been your guest this evening, you are scarce free of blame for this." "He has a shallow head, my Lord, and it is more easily sounded than I guessed. Arnold," said Dauntrees apart--"persuade the innkeeper home."