From among the new-comers rode out a fat, coarse man, with a pompous
air as of one who is accustomed to be obeyed, who inquired in a laboured
voice, for he was breathless from hard riding, what all this turmoil
meant.

"Ask the Abbot of Blossholme," said some one, "for it is his work."

"Abbot of Blossholme? That's the man I want," puffed the fat stranger.
"Appear, Abbot of Blossholme, and give account of these doings. And you
fellows," he added to his escort, "range up and be ready, lest this said
priest should prove contumacious."

Now the Abbot stepped forward with some of his monks and, looking the
horseman up and down, said--

"Who may it be that demands account so roughly of a consecrated Abbot?"

"A consecrated Abbot? A consecrated peacock, a tumultuous, turbulent,
traitorous priest, a Spanish rogue ruffler who, I am told, keeps about
him a band of bloody mercenaries to break the King's peace and slay
loyal English folk. Well, consecrated Abbot, I'll tell you who I am. I
am Thomas Legh, his Grace's Visitor and Royal Commissioner to inspect
the Houses called religious, and I am come hither upon complaint made by
yonder Prioress of Blossholme Nunnery, as to your dealings with
certain of his Highness's subjects whom, she says, you have accused of
witchcraft for purposes of revenge and unlawful gain. That is who I am,
my fine fowl of an Abbot."

Now when he heard this pompous speech the rage in Maldon's face was
replaced by fear, for he knew of this Doctor Legh and his mission, and