The return of Giles and Anne was greeted with great joy. Their mother, weeping for happiness, bore them off into the house. This they were glad of because they did not want to be questioned before the neighbours. Indoors, when both their parents and old Elsbeth the cook had done hugging them and thanking heaven for their safety, they had to explain their disappearance.
Giles was terrified he would be asked about Agnes and have to confess he had seen her since they were gone. So he started off right away to do most of the talking himself. He told how they had been overtaken by the terrible storm yesterday and had sought refuge in an old deserted house; how they had played there to pass the time, had got very tired and finally had fallen asleep; and how they had not wakened until this morning, after daylight had come.
The only question they were asked was, what house was it they had stayed at. Giles did not want to answer this, but he had to. And when it became known in the town that he and Anne had explored the famous Haunted Inn and really and truly spent the night there, they became great heroes; and all the youngsters came around the next day to gaze at them and ask them about their adventure.
This same crowd of town children then went off to visit the Haunted Inn themselves, which worried Giles quite a little. Since his return he had felt the shell burn again, and on listening to it he had heard Agnes talking to herself. ‘I do hope those little ones will keep a still tongue in their heads. If they get chattering about this inn too much that will be the end of my peace here. I’ll have to find another hiding-place.’
‘Oh,’ said Anne when he had explained this to her, ‘then Agnes has been living there for some time. And that was why we couldn’t find her. But what does she want a hiding-place for?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Giles. ‘And anyhow that’s not the important thing now. I’ve got to get back to the inn ahead of those children and warn Agnes. If they should see her there they will tell about it in the town; and the gossips will begin to blame her for our disappearance, after all—for throwing a spell over us, or something. There are too many people who are only looking for a chance to have her arrested for witchcraft. You stay here. If Father asks where I am, just say I’ve gone after the other children.’
So, without further delay, he had set out.
When he reached the inn Giles was happy to find that Agnes had not been discovered. Lots of children were there, peering wide-eyed into the passages and rooms. But either the Applewoman had got wind of their coming and taken flight, or she knew some secret hiding-place in the buildings that no one could find. Anyhow there was no sign of her; and presently Giles managed to slip away from the crowd, and made his way home alone.
Coming into the town he noticed that there seemed to be a lot of excitement abroad. People were running towards the market-place, chattering like magpies. Gentlemen on horseback were coming and going about the streets in all directions. Among them Giles recognized Master Piers Belmont, the Duke’s Chamberlain.
On reaching the market-place he found the fuss and commotion greater still. A large crowd of folk was gathered about the Town Crier, who was giving out a message to the people from the Duke. Giles elbowed his way in to listen.
The message was a long one and was all about a visit which the King was to pay the town. This was the first time that the new King had come here. He was going to stay at the castle with his cousin, the Duke, who wished the townsfolk to give him a worthy welcome and show their loyalty in a befitting manner. Then there was a whole lot more about a grand feast that was to be given in the King’s honour the day of his coming, and of the special guards that were to be on duty certain hours of the day and night throughout the whole time His Majesty was here.
Giles hurried home to bring his sister the great news. But he found that it had got there ahead of him. His own home and the whole street in which he lived were in a great hubbub.
While the chatter was at its noisiest, the shell again grew hot in his pocket and he listened to it.
There were two voices this time—Luke’s and the Applewoman’s. Without waiting to hear what words were passing between them, Giles grasped his sister by the hand and hurried out into the street.
‘What is it, Giles?’ she cried. ‘Not so fast! I can hardly keep up with you at such a pace.’
‘It was Agnes again,’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s hurry. It was Agnes and Luke talking. She is bound to be at his stable—curing his leg most likely—because he can barely walk. If we’re in time we’ll catch her. If we miss her we’ll maybe not get another such chance for goodness knows how long.’
But though they raced there as quickly as they could, they arrived too late. Luke told them that Agnes had come and gone.
‘It’s a big risk she took in coming here,’ said he, as the children sank down disappointed on the straw beside him. ‘Yes, a big risk—and for my sake. I think there is an order out for her arrest.’
‘Oh, is she charged with witchcraft again?’ asked Giles.
‘I’m not quite sure,’ said Luke. ‘I questioned her, but she wouldn’t say. Everything had been all right for her for some weeks back, I know; and she had moved freely about the town. But she has mysterious ways of scenting danger. Myself, I fancy it may be this coming visit of the King’s. The Duke is so fearful that something may happen to spoil the party for his royal guest. Well, who knows? I suppose once you’ve been accused of being a witch you’re never really safe. People may blame all sorts of accidents and misfortunes on you. So maybe Agnes feels it’s wiser to keep out of sight just now. She’s afraid of that stupid old Mayor—and he’s afraid of her.’
‘Why?’ asked Anne.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Luke. ‘Most people are afraid of witches.’
‘But she isn’t a witch,’ said Anne.
‘No. Of course she isn’t,’ growled the lame boy.
‘Yet she can do magic, can’t she?’ asked the girl.
‘I don’t know,’ said Luke, frowning. ‘She certainly has done magic to my leg. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have her to cure it for me when it lays me up. She has cured other people in this town, too—those who trusted her. And I don’t believe she ever did anyone any harm in her life. It’s just that she is cleverer than other folk, and wiser. She knows more. But I do wish she wouldn’t keep those cats. People always think that witches have cats around them—that they are what is left of the poor souls they have enchanted. But Agnes won’t give up her cats. She says that nothing anyone says will ever make her turn them out of doors.’
‘Well, I know I’d trust her,’ said Giles. ‘Why, she—Oh, my! There goes that old shell again. Hot as a chestnut!’
‘Who is it this time?’ cried his sister. ‘Get it out quick, Giles, and listen. I wonder, is it Agnes?’
She watched her brother’s face as he held it to his ear.
‘No,’ he said in a little while. ‘It’s Mother and Father—and Mother crying again.’
‘What’s the matter with her now?’ asked Anne.
‘Oh, it’s that old money business again,’ said her brother. ‘Things are worse than ever, it seems. They’re talking of selling the house to pay Father’s debts. And they’re wondering what is to become of us with no roof over our heads. Now they’ve stopped speaking of us and the shell’s gone cold again.’
‘Oh dear!’ sighed Anne as Giles ended. ‘I do wish we’d caught Agnes here today.’
‘Listen, Anne,’ said Giles. ‘Do you know whom I think we ought to take the shell to? Piers Belmont, the Duke’s Chamberlain. You say he knows everyone. Well, a man with so many friends would be glad of such a thing. And he’s rich. He could pay us well for it.’