the prison enclosure—to see the witch hung, of course—but nothing more. So he sat and pondered. He felt stifled. The cloth over his head impeded his breath and drowsiness overcame him.
The tramp of feet aroused him. A moment later the fetters were removed from his arms and the cloth lifted from his head and shoulders. He blinked in the sudden light of torches. Before him he saw a number of hooded figures, all with voluminous cloaks, faces hidden behind black veils. Were these the same men? he wondered.
"So it is here we find you, Sir Justice!" said the leader.
Mynheer did not recognize the voice.
"We looked for you in the castle. You were not there!"
Hm! So they looked for him. What did it mean? Why should they look for him when they had him already? And why no longer the whispers? At least he was thankful for that!
"Arise, sir, and take your place. You are to be tried!" said the leader.
Nine men in all, noted Mynheer. Two of them pushed him from the chair and led him down to a bench before the dais.
The tall leader at once occupied the chair of justice.
"Sir Justice, note what I say! You have been tried in secret trial and found guilty! We came tonight to execute sentence! We went to your home and waited for you! You did not come! Later we searched and found you absent! So at length we thought to look here! And here you are!" with sudden humor.
Mynheer van Ragevoort said nothing, only gazed bewildered at the mummer.
"Sir Justice, we are the Vehmgericht! In secret we met and considered you and the justice meted out by you. Sir, you have been an unjust judge. You have been a plague to this land! Like a wild beast you have persecuted the innocent and condemned them to death. Nothing has held you back—not friendship, not pity, not justice, not even the ties of blood! You lusted only to kill!"
He paused and seemed to wait for an objection. Mynheer found the words. "They were witches all I They confessed! The Law gave me"
"The Law!" scorned the leader in stinging tones. "Your wild superstition was the Law. Not the written Law! With you an accusation was the equal of proof! You never gave fair trial!"
"They confessed!" the Justice muttered.
The leader stood up and pointed an accusing finger at him. "They confessed—under insane torture. They confessed—to escape further torture! They confessed—what you wished them to confess! Confession, indeed! So would you confess! Can an innocent child of ten—for such was Gertrudis Bourdelaide—know anything of wickedness, of sorcery, of witchcraft? Yet you forced her by the vilest tortures to say she was guilty. Did Melisande zer Honde know of witchcraft? She confessed to it—after you tore her on the rack. Did Roberta Deswaarters ever perpetrate any wickedness—she, a patient little saint, who spent most of her young life in pain? Yet you forced her to admit unholy practises—by means of the rack, the stocks! Did Margaréte Van Voelker, or Pieta der Groote—oh, why name them all, the dozens of decent folk you put to death! For years you have sown terror in the land, you have revolted minds with your unheard-of cruelties. You were the scourge of the people until they wearied of it!
"Men came together and in secret protest asked the Vehmgericht for
