It was poor Dunne's turn to be questioned again - if that was what the process could be called. For the baker was now in a state of such fear and confusion that he was hardly coherent. What was the business, demanded Jeffreys. What business? The baker looked uncertain. Again and again the judge pounded, shouted, cursed. Dunne stuttered, finally fell silent. For long minutes he seemed to fall into a kind of trance.

The light from the windows was dimmer now, the great hall shadowy. A clerk lit a candle.

Then at last Dunne seemed to recover a little. 'The business, my Lord?'

'Blessed God! You villain. Yes. The business.'

'It was that Mr Hicks was a dissenter.'

'That is all?'

'Yes, My Lord. There is nothing more.'

Betty felt Peter touch her arm. 'Our friend Dunne has beaten this judge,' he whispered.

But not, it seemed, without a fight.

'Liar! You think you can banter me with such sham stuff as this?' He turned to the clerk. 'Bring that candle. Hold the candle to his brazen face.'

And poor Dunne, quaking again, cried out: 'My Lord, tell me what you would have me say, for I am cluttered out of my senses.'

Betty watched in horror. This was not a court of law. It was an interrogation. What would they do next? Torture the baker in public? She looked across at her mother.

And looked again, in astonishment.

For in the midst of all this, Dame Alice had fallen asleep.

Not asleep. Not really. But Alice had lived too long, seen too much. She remembered the Civil War, the trial of King Charles, so many other trials, her husband's fate. She knew already which way this business must end.

She would not show her fear. She was afraid. She wanted to tremble; she could have screamed at the terrible, cruel stupidity of it all. But there was no point. She already knew it and she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear. So she closed her eyes.

They brought Colonel Penruddock on next. He was brief and factual. He said how he'd found the men hiding. He also said that Furzey had told him Dunne had hinted that the men were probably rebels. So they hauled the baker on to the stand again and asked him what he meant. But he stuttered now so hopelessly that he didn't even make sense. They had nothing.

They called one of the troopers who had been in the house making the arrests and who declared that the men were obviously rebels; but this testimony was so useless that even the judge soon waved him away.

But now, it seemed to Dame Alice, that she had a small opportunity. Pretending to wake, she stared at the trooper and then called out: 'Why, My Lord, this is the man who stole my best linen.'