"There," I said, "if the witches come it will take them time to get in." He seemed more than ever discomfited at my coolness. He had been so long undisturbed that he seemed to wonder at any one daring to come to him in such a way. "Well, what do you want to know?" he said helplessly. Then he added, "But let me tell you this: I know nothing." "Who is this woman called Constance?" I asked. At this his face became relieved. "Ha! ha!" he cried. "A lover, eh? He traced the fair Constance hither, and now his love makes him so brave that he dares to meet the ghost of Pycroft. But Constance is not for you, lad. She hath her duties as a wife--eh, a wife!" "Wife or maid, who is she?" "How do I know? I who--who----" here he relapsed into silence. "But you will know before I leave this room," I made answer. "Also, you will tell me other things." "What other things?" "Among them, why you live here, and what you hide here." "And if I will not tell you?" "There is an old adage that a wizard is ten times worse than a witch, and many a witch hath died during these last twenty years. When King Charles comes to England it will be easy to prove that an old man at Pycroft Hall hath a familiar spirit." "King Charles!" he cried, and his old eyes sparkled. "Am I afraid of King Charles? I will claim a secret audience with King Charles, and in two short minutes King Charles will obey me like a child." "Obey you?" "Ay, obey me. Now, then, do your worst. Fool that I was to be duped by a puling boy like thee, but since I have been a fool, I will e'en pay for it. Thou canst tell thy story--ay, thou canst drag me to Folkestone town. Well, what then? Suppose the ignorant fools which inhabit this countryside cry out for my death? Well, listen--I am Elijah Pycroft--a gentleman, and I can claim to have an ear of the king. And then it will be even as I say. Even King Charles will do the will of old Elijah Pycroft." He had cast aside all his claims to the supernatural, and had become the clever scheming old man. "I know what you mean," I replied quietly, "But the thing by which you think to obtain the mastery over the new king doth not exist." He started to his feet like a man bereft of his senses. "Doth not exist? What do you mean?" "Oh, I have seen the mother of Lucy Walters," I replied. "Thou hast seen----!" he stopped suddenly, his deep-set eyes darting angry glances at me and his body trembling with passion. "Ay, I have seen her; but it is no use. Do you think that Charles Stuart would ever wed such as she?" "But he did, he did!" he cried, carried away by his passion. "And what is more, I have proof of it--and----" Again he ceased speaking suddenly. I saw that he had said more than he intended. Now this was the point to which I had aimed to bring him, and I tried to take him further. "A vain boast," I said. "Where is it, if it exists?"