Outside, the crowd had increased. There were those baying for blood, for justice. Wild rumours were spreading that Janet had flown off in the night, that she’d cursed the town; that all the witches were planning to have a sabbat and recruit whoever remained to the devil’s cause. Children were crying; some women were openly weeping. Others were white-faced. The men were furious. They wanted this to end, to put a stop to the terror and suspicion, only they didn’t know how.

They didn’t, but Patrick did.

Still, no one in the cell said anything. They shifted uneasily on their well-shod feet. Not even their coats and cloaks could keep out the bitter cold. The air was freezing; the walls damp and the place reeked of putrid water, rotting food, sweat and old stockings. Dried blood had seeped into the floor. The air was thick with that too, and silent screams. Patrick saw William Bell ploughing his hair with his fingers, as was his habit, staring and swallowing. He half-expected the man to lose his breakfast. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Patrick longed to retreat to the comfort of his study, a fire and a dram, but he had to persuade these men that what he was about to propose was right; that he was right. That they all were.

By God, but they were weak men. Bailie Whyte was again conveniently out of town. Bailies William Bell and Robert Vernour wouldn’t meet his eyes. Cleiland was making notes — about what, Patrick couldn’t fathom — anything to avoid a decision. Only Robert Cook had the gumption not only to hold his gaze, but nod in consent.

‘She won’t last long out there at this time of year.’ Cook gestured towards the window. ‘More snow’s due.’ He picked at a scab on his large chin. ‘You said she had nothing in here with her?’

A cheer erupted outside.

‘Nothing,’ said Patrick, forced to raise his voice to be heard. ‘As Camron can confirm.’

The bailies turned to Camron who blushed to the roots of his thinning hair and gulped.

‘Men are searching nearby towns as we speak. Others are checking the convicted witches’ houses and combing the fields. We’ll find her,’ said Patrick. He waited for someone to challenge his use of the word ‘convicted’. No-one did.

‘And what of the rest of those McGregor named?’ asked Bailie Cook when no one spoke. ‘What are we going to do about them?’

‘Nothing… yet,’ said Patrick. ‘Our priority has to be the Cornfoot woman. Once we have her back in custody, then we can discuss what to do with the others.’

‘He’s right,’ said Bailie Bell finally. ‘Only, the people might seek retribution — for Cornfoot’s escape. They may well hold her friends, her fellow accused, responsible.’

‘Perhaps they’re right,’ said Patrick.