The Spook’s Revenge: Book 13 (Spooks) Read Online Free

him for information.
    ‘It was witchcraft! Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’
    I was being polite, but he wasn’t, and I was starting to get annoyed.
    ‘How old was your dog?’ I persisted.
    ‘Sixteen years, but it was fit and healthy.’
    ‘That’s old for most types of dog. It could have died of natural causes . . . Where does the woman whom you accuse live?’ I took a slow, deep breath to keep myself calm.
    ‘There!’ he shouted, jabbing his finger at the only other occupied house. ‘That’s where you’ll find her. She calls herself Beth, but no doubt she goes by another name after dark.’
    Then, his face red with anger, he went back inside and slammed the door in my face.
    What he’d said was nonsense. Some people believed that the witches in a coven had special secret names for each other, but it was just superstition.
    I walked along the front hedge that separated the small front gardens from the track, and went down the path of the first house in order to talk to ‘Beth’. I was about to knock on the door when I heard the sound of voices. One of them sounded like my master’s.
    So I strolled round the side of the house. My first surprise was that there was a large, well-maintained back garden; an area of lawn bordered by flowers, and beyond that an extensive vegetable and herb garden. Two people were sitting on a bench sipping tea from small cups. One was indeed the Spook; the other was a dainty white-haired woman. I liked the look of her immediately. She was old, yet there was something extremely youthful about the joyful expression in her laughing green eyes.
    It was good to see the Spook looking so relaxed and at ease. It was a rare sight these days.
    ‘Well, lad, you certainly took your time!’ he exclaimed. ‘Come here and meet Beth.’
    ‘Hello, boy,’ said the old lady. ‘I’ve been hearing all about you. Your master tells me you’re a good apprentice. But let me judge for myself. Come closer and tell me what you think. Am I a witch or not?’
    I approached her as she beamed up at me from the bench. There was no feeling of coldness to warn me that I was dealing with someone or something from the dark. That wasn’t always a factor, but I was almost certain that she wasn’t a witch.
    ‘Well, lad, speak up!’ commanded my master. ‘Don’t be afraid to talk in front of Beth. Is she or isn’t she?’
    ‘Beth isn’t a malevolent witch,’ I answered.
    ‘On what do you base that judgement?’ he asked.
    ‘I have no feeling of warning coldness, but more than that, I trust my instincts. They tell me that Beth isn’t a servant of the dark. And Mr Briggs didn’t offer any real evidence. Anyone can accuse someone of being a witch for their own reasons. Some witchfinders do that, don’t they? They burn someone as a witch just so they can confiscate their property.’
    ‘That they do, lad.’
    ‘What am I supposed to have done?’ Beth asked, still smiling.
    ‘Mr Briggs’s hens won’t lay and he says his dog dropped down dead after he complained to you.’
    ‘She was a very old dog and not in good health,’ she told me. ‘And there could be lots of reasons why his hens have stopped laying.’
    ‘Aye, I totally agree,’ said the Spook, coming to his feet. ‘Thanks for the tea, Beth Briggs. You make the best in the County!’
    I glanced at them both in astonishment. She had the same name as her accuser . . . What was going on? Was my master testing me in some way – trying to see if I could quickly get to the root of a situation that he was already familiar with?
    With that, the Spook led me out of the garden and back along the front hedge towards the house where Mr Briggs lived. He rapped hard on the front door.
    The man opened it and scowled at us aggressively.
    ‘Beth isn’t a witch,’ asserted the Spook, ‘as you well know! This isn’t the first time she’s been falsely accused by you. So let that be an end to it. Don’t waste my time or that of