There was a little satisfied sigh. The deep terror of witchcraft was under the control of an authority. They need not scrabble to protect themselves against the unknown powers of the other world: a gentleman who knew Latin was taking responsibility.

“You know my name,” Alinor replied sulkily.

There was a murmur against her defiance.

“She’s Goodwife Alinor Reekie,” Mrs. Miller interrupted. “Sister to Edward Ferryman, of Ferry-house.”

James lowered his eyes and wrote his lover’s name at the top of the paper.

“Age?” he asked.

“I am twenty-seven,” Alinor replied.

“Occupation?”

“I am a licensed midwife and healer.”

“No license,” someone reminded them all from the back of the room.

Alinor lifted her head. “I am a midwife and healer,” she amended. “Of good repute.”

“And the accusation?”

Mrs. Miller stepped forward, trembling with anger, her voice low and passionate. “I am Mrs. Miller, of Mill Farm. I keep my savings, my daughter Jane’s dowry, in a hiding place in my kitchen.” Dramatically she pointed to the fireplace. “There! Right there! Behind a loose brick in the chimney.”

Everyone looked to where the brick was missing from the chimney breast, and back to Alinor’s white face.

“Months ago, in the autumn, in September it was, she was running an errand for me to Chichester Friday market. I trusted her to buy something for me. I trusted her!”

There was a hushed comment on the notoriously mistrustful nature of Mrs. Miller. She continued: “I made her turn her back as I took my savings purse out of the hiding place. My secret hiding place. But she saw me. She had her back to me, but even so, she saw me!”

There was a ripple of amazement.

“How could this be?” James asked skeptically, his pen poised.

“With her special sight she saw me, though her head was turned away. When she turned round I could see in her face that she had found me out. I just knew. She had seen me, with her witchy eyes.”

There was a murmur. Everyone but Mrs. Wheatley and the Stoney family agreed that this must be proof. Mr. Miller shook his head.

“You may not call her a witch until it is proven,” James reprimanded her, his level voice cutting through the talk. He turned to Alinor. “Did you see this hiding place?”

“I saw her reflection in the trencher,” she said shortly. She gestured to the silver dish ostentatiously displayed on the big wooden dresser. “She told me to face the big platter and I could see her reflection, like in a looking glass. I wasn’t looking for her; but I did see her. But many people know that she kept her savings there. She sometimes paid with hot coins and her fingers were sooty. It was no mystery.”

A couple of the Millers’ gleaners muttered yes, they had been paid with warm coins.

“Is this the case?” James asked a little too eagerly. “The hiding place was generally known?”

“Only a witch could have seen that reflection,” Mrs. Miller said staunchly. “No one else could have made me out.”