I raised my head and met his eyes.
He leant across the table, saying in a sneering tone, "A fine witch, on my life! You should know what he hides ?" "Aye." "And drink of his cup ?" "Aye, so she said." He sat sunk in troubled thought, but I, being all this night torn to and fro by changing and warring moods, sprang up again and cried in boisterous scorn, "What, you believe these fables?
Does God reveal hidden things to old crones?
I thought you at Court were not the fools of such fancies! Aren't they fitter for rustic churls, Mr Darrell?
God save us, do we live in the days of King James ?" He answered me shortly and sternly, as though I had spoken of things not to be named lightly.
"It is devil's work, all of it." "Then the devil is busier than he seems, even after a night at Court," I said.

"But be it whose work it will, I'll do it.

I'll find what he hides.

I'll drink of his cup.

Come, you're glum! Drink, friend Darrell! Darrell, what's in his cup, what does he hide?
Darrell, what does the King hide ?" I had caught him by the shoulder and was staring in his face.