Part 28 (1/2)

”Then I went outside to spew,” Garrick said. ”But before that didn't you pause to put on your coat and boots?”

”I... well... yes sir, I must've, but I can't rightly recall it.”

”How many gold b.u.t.tons,” Matthew said, ”were on the front of Satan's cloak?”

”Six,” Garrick answered.

”Six? Of that number you're positive?”

”Yes sir.” He nodded vigorously. ”I seen 'em s.h.i.+ne in the moonlight.”

”It was a full moon, then?”

”Sir?”

”A full moon,” Matthew repeated. ”Was it a full moon?”

”Reckon it had to be. But I don't recall ever lookin' up at it.”

”And even with this bright moonlight-which enabled you to see a figure crossing a distant field without a lantern-you were unable to see Satan's face?”

”Well sir... the Devil was wearin' a cowl over his head.”

”That may be so, but were not the b.u.t.tons on the front of his cloak? If the bright moonlight made those six gold b.u.t.tons so memorable, could you not see a portion portion of his face?” of his face?”

”No sir.” Garrick s.h.i.+fted uneasily on the stool. ”It weren't his face that caught my sight. It was... that terrible big thing the witch was suckin' on.”

”Covered with thorns, I think you've already told us?”

”Yes sir, it was.”

”Satan spoke to you, did he not? In fact, he called you by name?” Garrick nodded. ”Did you not look at Satan's face when he spoke to you?”

”I believe I did. But... there weren't nothin' there but dark.”

”Did Rachel Howarth ever turn her face toward you?”

”No sir, she didn't.”

Matthew paused to lay aside his quill and ma.s.sage his hand again. He glanced once more at Woodward, and saw that the magistrate was still motionless but his eyes were open and his breathing was steady, if very labored.

”Mr. Garrick!” Rachel suddenly said, standing at the bars. ”What have I ever done to you, to cause you to make up these lies?”

”They ain't lies!” Garrick hugged the Bible for protection. ”You know I seen you, out there givin' service to your master!”

”I was never behind that barn, doing such a sin! And I never consorted with such a creature! If you're not lying, your mind has invented a fantasy!”

Woodward loudly slapped his hand upon the table for order, and immediately Matthew said, ”Silence, please! Madam Howarth, I speak for the magistrate when I say it's in your best interest not to disrupt the testimony.”

”Her best interest?” interest?” Garrick sounded amazed. ”Have you taken the witch's side?” Garrick sounded amazed. ”Have you taken the witch's side?”

”No, Mr. Garrick, I have not. I'm only pointing out to Madam Howarth that it is your right to speak without interruption.” Matthew started to pick up the quill again when Nicholas Paine entered the gaol bearing a basket.

”Pardon the intrusion, but I have your tea.” Paine came into the cell, placed the basket before Woodward, and opened it. Inside was a simple white clay pot and a single cup. ”Compliments of Mrs. Zeborah Crawford.”

”My thanks,” Woodward whispered.

”Will you be needing anything else?”

Woodward thought about it. He patted the desk in front of him. ”Poppets,” he said.

”The poppets? You wish to see them?” Woodward nodded. ”Now.”

”They're at my house. I'll go directly and fetch them.” Paine cast a quick glance in the direction of Rachel and then hurried out.

Matthew had his quill in hand once more, and a fresh sheet of paper before him. ”May I continue, sir?” he asked Woodward, who was pouring himself a cup of dark brown brew, and he received a slight nod as a signal to proceed. ”Mr. Garrick?” Matthew said. ”Think hard on this next question, if you will. Put the image of Satan's six gold b.u.t.tons in your mind, and tell me if they were fixed on the cloak six in a straight line or three side by side?”

There was a sharp clatter of crockery. Matthew looked to his left to see that Woodward had spilled his tea. The magistrate was staring at him as if the clerk had taken leave of his senses.

”It is is a pertinent question, sir,” Matthew said. ”I do think it deserves an answer.” a pertinent question, sir,” Matthew said. ”I do think it deserves an answer.”

”It's foolish,” Woodward whispered, his gray face stern as a rock.

”Might you reserve your opinion until after the question is answered?”

”What kind of question is it?” Garrick asked, visibly agitated. ”I thought I was brung here to tell you 'bout the witch, not about b.u.t.tons!”

”You were brought here to tell us whatever is necessary for the magistrate to weigh his judgment,” Matthew countered. ”Remember, sir, that you hold a Holy Bible, and that you've vowed to speak only the truth. Remember that G.o.d is listening to your answer.” He paused a few seconds to let Garrick reflect on that p.r.o.nouncement. ”Now: were the six b.u.t.tons arranged in a single line, or were they three side by side?”

”They were...” Garrick suddenly stopped. His tongue flicked out again, wetting his lips. His fingers tightened on the Bible, his knuckles whitening. ”They were...” Again he faltered. His face seemed threatened by conflicting currents that moved beneath the skin. He took a long breath, in preparation to make his decision. ”Six gold b.u.t.tons,” he said. ”On the black cloak. I seen 'em. s.h.i.+ne in the moonlight.”

”Yes, sir,” Matthew said. ”But what arrangement were they in?” Garrick frowned; his mouth worked, but no sound emerged. His right hand began to rub in small circles on the Bible. He stared blankly at nothing, his eyes glazed and the pulse beating harder at his temple. Matthew realized that Woodward had leaned slightly forward and his expression had become keen.

”It was a silent town,” Garrick said, in what was almost a whisper. A glaze of sweat glistened on his forehead. ”Silent. The whole world, afeared to breathe.”

Matthew had been taking down every word that the man uttered. He redipped his quill and held it ready. ”It's a simple question, sir. Do you not have an answer?” Garrick slowly blinked, his jaw slack. ”Sir?” Matthew prompted. ”An answer, please?”

”The six gold b.u.t.tons were... they...” He stared into nothingness for a moment longer, and then he shook his head. ”I don't know.”

”They caught your attention and were clearly defined by the moonlight, yes?”

”Yes.”

”But you don't recall how they were arranged on the cloak?”

”No,” Garrick said, his voice thick. ”I... can see them b.u.t.tons in my head. I see 'em s.h.i.+nin' in the moonlight, but... I don't know if they was straight down or three by three.”

”All right, then. Tell us what happened after Satan spoke to you.”

”Yes sir.” Garrick lifted a hand from the Good Book and wiped his damp forehead. ”He... asked me if I liked what I was a'lookin' at. I didn't want to speak, but he made me say 'yes.' He made made me. Then he laughed, and I was ashamed. He let me go. I ran home, and I got in bed beside my 'Becca. That next mornin' I went to see Mr. Paine and I told him the whole story.” me. Then he laughed, and I was ashamed. He let me go. I ran home, and I got in bed beside my 'Becca. That next mornin' I went to see Mr. Paine and I told him the whole story.”