The title itself is my own contrivance, (can't call it invention), and has the merit of veracity.

We will be concerned with an inn here.

As to the witches that's merely a conventional expression, and we must take our man's word for it that it fits the case.
The Find was made in a box of books bought in London, in a street which no longer exists, from a second-hand bookseller in the last stage of decay.

As to the books themselves they were at least twentieth-hand, and on inspection turned out not worth the very small sum of money I disbursed.

It might have been some premonition of that fact which made me say: "But I must have the box too." The decayed bookseller assented by the careless, tragic gesture of a man already doomed to extinction.
A litter of loose pages at the bottom of the box excited my curiosity but faintly.