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the trouble of having to beard the lady in her den. Leaving Zeal to his pigs, I set out towards the village.

“About half-a-mile distant from the house was a stone set at the crossroads. This was the Gallows’ Corner of which Zeal had spoken. At the foot of the stone lay a bunch of holly tied with a red ribbon, with winter jasmine at its centre. It had evidently been laid there recently, for the scattered petals were still fresh where they had not been ground into the dirt by someone’s boot.

“‘I wouldn’t touch them if I were you,’ came a strident female voice from behind me.

“I turned to find an elderly lady, stooped and leaning on a walking stick, in a respectable, if old-fashioned, bonnet and cloak, with a wicker basket hanging from her wrist.

“‘That’s the grave of the Five Witches,’ said the woman severely. ‘They buried them where they hanged them, at the crossroads, to stop them finding their way back to the village to take their revenge. They do say those flowers belong to them, and they don’t take kindly to folk removing them.’

“A smile softened the engraved lines of her face. ‘At least that’s what I tell people. I’ve been leaving flowers for these poor souls for sixty years and more. No one ever minded until the new vicar came. The graves of the dead should be shown respect, whatever their sins.’ She beheld the trampled offering with sadness before turning her gaze to me. ‘You’re Lord Zeal’s visitor from London?’

“‘Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You are Mrs. Balfour?’

“She appeared unimpressed. ‘Lord Zeal told you naturally, as he told me about you. Well, sir, what do you make of our devilry?’

“‘I have seen precious little to indicate the involvement of supernatural entities. There is little that does not happen without human intervention.’

“She slowly nodded her head. ‘Walk with me, Mr. Holmes. Our paths lie in the same direction.’

“I offered to carry her basket and we continued our journey together.

“‘Am I right in thinking that the focus of the activity is the vicar?’ I asked.

“‘He sees things. They are real enough to him, but that is neither here nor there. If I told you I saw the Archangel Gabriel in that field over there, you would dismiss my claim as the ramblings of an addled old woman.’

“‘I should not be so discourteous,’ I said respectfully.

“‘That is disingenuous of you, Mr. Holmes, if appreciated,’ said she, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘The fact remains that if the vicar says he has seen devils, then people believe him. He has a position of trust in this village. My son commanded no respect and Lord Zeal has not been here long enough for the people around here to pay much heed to what he says. The vicar is respected, though whether he deserves it is another story.’

“‘You object to him.’

“‘On the contrary, he objects to us. Since he arrived two years ago, he has tried to impose his will upon the village. He drove away the landlord of our public house after persecuting the poor man for supplying what he calls ‘the Devil’s brew’. The last straw came when the vicar questioned his wife’s virtue in a sermon. He had no choice to leave after that.’ Her face grew tight with anger. ‘And now he has set his sights on Lady Bulmer because she does not attend his services. Were I a younger woman, Mr. Holmes, nor should I!’

“‘A stand against the vicar might prove effective, Mrs. Balfour.’

“A knowing smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘I am nearer to my God than thee, sir. At my age, one does not like to tempt fate. As it is, I am attempting to make a peace-offering of sweetmeats for him if the delivery man has brought what I need. It may sweeten his tongue, though I doubt it.’

“We had reached the outskirts of the village. Down the main street, a crowd of women were gathered around a goods wagon which had brought supplies.

“Mrs. Balfour took in the scene with a heavy sigh. ‘Forty years ago, we had our own shops. Look at us now, a community of old folk. All our young have departed. Young Billy Maynard is the last and he is only here because his grandmother has taken him in to ease the burden on his mother. The vicar made much of the lad’s recent accident, saying a curse had been laid upon us to deprive us of the young. And people believed him. Very convincing is our vicar.’

“‘Not to all. Mr. Merryweather has no love for him.’

“‘When Merryweather’s wife died last Easter, the vicar told him that she had died in sin because she would not repent her vanity in wearing ribbons. He refused to have her interred in the graveyard. She’s buried in a neighbouring parish some twenty miles away now. Had Lord Zeal not offered him employment, I doubt Merryweather would have stayed. As it is, the vicar does not have a kind word to say about him.’

“‘Nor Lady Bulmer, so I heard.’

“Mrs. Balfour’s eyes betrayed her sorrow. ‘Lady Bulmer is the gentlest soul you may ever encounter. She showed great kindness to Mr. Goddard when she gave him that lotion to heal his ulcerated leg where the doctors had failed. But because she is a newcomer and has different ideas, the vicar has taken against her. Where he leads, so his flock may follow. I had great hopes, Mr. Holmes, when Lord Zeal took over the running of the estate. My son had no great interest in the land. He lives for his own amusement, nothing more. Lord Zeal offers employment and a chance to resurrect our village. But no one will ever settle here if the vicar has his way.’

“‘Why do you not complain to the bishop?’

“‘Because he sent

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