Englefield, leaving him seated, staring, took himself three turns between thorn and oak, by ash and beach. The forest was gold, the day was gold, the morrow gold and he the smith. He returned. “Have you a piece of wax, fine and smooth, such as might be held secretly in palm of hand, softening just enough with heat of body?” Bettany gave an abrupt small laugh. “I’ve read of that in a book from the Italian! But if John Cobb were bold enough and skilful enough to take--Godfrey’s face being buried in tankard--impress of keys, what then, beseech you, unless you had all the fairies?” “Sun is an hour high. If I could have that mould here ere he rises again! But it must be well done, well taken, with pains. Our keys must turn in our locks.” “In the greenwood? I know that Brother Richard made wondrous things! But this were to make wondrously!” “I planned through the night--this plan, that and the other. But this one is best. When the moon rose and again at first dawn I went softly about that house yonder. None saw nor heard; they were sleeping. The man has burned charcoal, and surely they have oven or hearth. Gold in this purse may buy them, seeing they cannot know whom I am nor what we do. You say they are old and losing wit.” “Furnace and fuel and print of keys in wax and smith--” “Do you bring me iron and the tools. I shall show you.” “Thou’rt a bold man!” “Thou’rt another!” CHAPTER XXII Not John Cobb but Thomas Bettany, who knew whom here he could trust, sat on a Wednesday afternoon in gaoler’s room, drank ale with Godfrey and once more petitioned for one look at the witch. “Nay, nay!” said Godfrey and shook his huge head. “Rule is rule! Time was I wouldn’t ha’ minded pleasuring you, Master Thomas, but word has come and a downright word, too, from powers. ‘Look you, Godfrey, that you do not open that door to any save Father Edmund who preaches to witch so that it may not be said she goes to hell without preaching!’ So I do not so. You are not the first gallant who hath come and said, ‘Godfrey, let me have a look at the witch!’ But no, says I to all. Rule is rule!” He set down his can. “I could tell you, but I won’t. Not just young will-o’-wisps like you, but one that’s older and should be weightier! But I won’t call name.” “I can call it for you,” thought the other. “It was Somerville.” “Coming by night, too!” said Godfrey. Young Master Thomas Bettany made a pettish movement. “Saint John! What’s the use of carrying that great bunch of keys if you cannot turn them at your will! Let me weigh them now!” Godfrey, smiling broadly, laid the bunch on table. He was a giant, and Thomas Bettany had been known to him since he was urchin and went by to school. “Great key--inner ward--key you turn on her?” Godfrey nodded. “Eh, eh! She has been a fair woman, has she not, and danced lightly? Marsh fire, will-o’-wisp! Now she lies all her length on cold ground, and when I open the door she saith, ‘Is’t Friday?’”