Those who read the terrible literature which exists on this subject will be puzzled about many things, but will not doubt that several who suffered for impossible crimes, lacked but the _power_, not the _will_ to have performed them. It has often been noticed that men who have renounced their belief in Christianity, or even in a God, have become willing captives to the grossest forms of superstition, a truth not lacking examples in our own days; and thus it came to pass that Sir John, denying the existence of God, believed, instead, in Gammer Gatch; and thither he was bound now. Leaving Nicholas on the brink of the glen in charge of the horses, he descended into the dell, and entered the hut which was avoided by all Christian people, save a few, who despite of their creed, came to consult the “wise woman” in divers difficulties. Lying, littered about, were human bones, a few grinning skulls, unclean reptiles, uncouth wax figures; the wall was blackened by cabalistic signs. The hut was built against the rocky side of the glen, and a ragged curtain concealed an aperture in the natural wall. “Mother,” said Sir John, “I have business to talk over; there are foes who hide from me, foes of mine, and of the king, whom I would fain crush; canst thou help me to discover their whereabouts?” “The blackamoor may help us, if thou hast courage to face him.” Sir John winced;--“I would rather not see him if it can be done without.” “Couldst thou bear to hear his voice?” “I could, methinks.” “Come, then, follow me, and we will do our best; thou shalt ask one question, and if he be in the mood he will answer.” She took up a torch of pine, and lit it at the fire. “Follow,” she said, and drew aside the curtain; a dark passage seemed to lead into the very bowels of the earth. It was one of those celebrated limestone caves of which so remarkable an example exists in the Cheddar valley; the water which oozed through the rifts had a strange petrifying power, and objects upon which it fell were in due time either incrusted with stone or actually petrified. From the roof descended long spars of stone in shape like icicles; fantastic resemblances of various objects met the gaze; here were shrouds and winding sheets, there delicate tracery like lace; here hung graceful curtains, and there were grotesque caricatures of animal life, but all in cold stone. The height of the passage varied; once Sir John had to follow his haggard guide on hands and knees, but onward they crawled or walked, deeper and deeper beneath the bowels of the earth, until they reached a dark cave, which seemed to be hung round with funereal trappings of black stone; in the centre was a sombre pool, into which heavy drops of water from above kept falling with a monotonous splash.[49]