#1161/1162: Robservations 11/10/03: Another Witchly Death

1161 - Gabriel grins greedily--Desmond, why are you looking at me that way? he asks--are you surprised?--did you ever think you'd see the day when I was my father's heir? Let him read! orders Samantha. Do, Desmond, says Gabriel, you must not make Samantha nervous--she's getting her hopes up. Gabriel! chastises Edith. "To my son, Quentin, I bequeath my father's timepiece which I had oft promised him." Gabriel bursts into laughter. His timepiece! cries Sam, is that all? "I have come to believe my own son's guilt," reads Desmond, and therefore he is not fit to be my heir and carry on the family responsibilities so entailed." You poisoned his mind! Sam shouts at Gabriel, rising from her seat. He poisoned his mind as well! retorts Gabriel. Desmond calls for silence--you wanted to hear the will, now listen to it. Desmond continues, "The heir designated below will act as unofficial guardian of my grandson, Tad Collins, who, at the age of 21, if he is still alive, and in residence at Collinwood, will receive my entire estate--in the meantime, Tad Collins and his mother, Samantha are never to be denied room and board at Collinwood." Gabriel turns to Sam--I'll see you get that, he taunts. "Along with a weekly stipend to be decided upon by the said heir," reads Desmond. "Should Samantha Collins choose to remove her son, Tad, from the estate, said heir will have no further responsibilities, monetary or otherwise, towards them." You'll never get rid of us, Gabriel, promises Sam. "As to the main deposition of the estate, continues Desmond, "monies, factories, fishing fleet, let me make it quite clear that I have considered carefully the results inherent in my decision--but I feel I have no other choice but to leave them until Tad comes of age to the man I regard as my rightful heir." Gabriel leans forward in his wheelchair, anticipating. Desmond reads, "My son--I have called him that because I have learned to love him as a son--Gerard Stiles." Everyone is astounded. Gerard? repeats Gabriel. Samantha's face contorts with amazement. No! she shouts, looking at Gerard, no! Edith begins to laugh uproariously.

I don't believe it! says a pretending-to-be astonished Gerard. Don't you? asks Desmond. This is what you've always wanted! shouts Samantha, what you've been working for from the beginning, I should have known--Tad will never live to be 21, will he? She runs from the room, Gerard calling her name. You said it was I! Gabriel accuses Gerard. I told you, says a flustered Gerard, he said he had another son! Samantha was right, says Gabriel, you made him think that--and you made little of me! Who would have to do that, Gabriel? grins Edith. I suppose I got nothing, Desmond? asks Gabriel. Desmond reads--Gabriel, Edith and their children will always have a home at Collinwood--my heir, Mr. Stiles, will see to it that Gabriel receives an allowance commensurate with his needs. My needs will be very small, won't they, Gerard? asks Gabriel bitterly. Desmond reads, "As Gabriel's children are to receive certain monies at 21 from my late wife's estate, I make no further mention of them." Desmond presses the bridge of his nose in exhaustion and disappointment. Gabriel starts to wheel himself out--"Come on, Edith," he says. I swear to you, says Gerard, this wasn't deliberate--I had nothing to do with this!--must we start off this way? We started the day we met, retorts Gabriel, and I knew you wanted something here, I just didn't realize the scope of your ambition! He starts to leave, but Desmond calls, "Wait!--there is something else that you should hear--in the event of the unlikely event that my original heir, my son, Quentin Collins, is declared innocent of all charges in his current trial, all monies, properties, commercial ventures are to be returned to him." I'm happy he wrote that, says Gerard (not very sincerely). Now all you're going to have to do is to see Quentin declared guilty, right? says Gabriel. I told you once, Gerard reminds him--I will do everything in my power to see that Quentin is free! Do you ever tell the truth? asks Gabriel--I don't think you ever do--I'm not going to accept this will, Desmond, I'm going to fight it!--AND YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GET ONE CENT OF MY FATHER's MONEY--YOU HEAR ME? In his agitation and anger, Gabriel's left foot drops to the floor, and it looks as if he's going to rise from his wheelchair. "Gabriel, you almost walked!" says Gerard. Don't start that again, please, sneers Edith. We're going to fight the will, says Gabriel--start proceedings at once!

Samantha's room - She twists a handkerchief between her two hands--Desmond, she asks, how did Daniel dare to make out that will?--if Quentin is proven innocent--IF! I have great hopes of Quentin being proven innocent, declares Desmond. I do not, she says. The evidence against Quentin is purely circumstantial, he says. What of the witchcraft? demands Samantha, of the fear of the people in the village--Lamar Trask--Mordecai Grimes?--once they give testimony, do you think Quentin is going to be released?

This is a murder trial, says Desmond--Quentin isn't being tried for witchcraft--please let us work together in hopes of freeing Quentin, then the money will be yours and his. Will my life be changed then? she asks bitterly--what do I do then, until that unlikely day? I admit, the situation with Gerard in this house is difficult, says Desmond. An understatement, pronounces Sam. You loved him once enough to want to marry him, Desmond reminds her. I didn't know him, she says, still twisting the handkerchief--he wants to be Quentin, he wants everything that Quentin has, and that includes me--that's quite an admission for a woman, isn't it, Desmond?--not even to be wanted for yourself--and now this monster wants to take charge of my child--I won't have it, I won't!--he's going to ask us to leave this house, and I know we won't--and then my child's life is in danger!--I must keep him away from Tad--please help me, Desmond, please! Tad is in no danger as long as Quentin is alive, says Desmond. Gerard Stiles is going to be very sorry that he was ever mentioned in that will, she vows. Why do you spend all your time hating him when you could be helping Quentin? he asks--"Maybe hating is what you do best!" Get out! she orders. You are going to need a friend, he says. It won't be you, she promises. That would be your decision! he shouts, and starts to leave. I'm sorry, says Sam--you don't know what it's like to be trapped in this house--I can't even take Tad and leave this place, can I? No, says Desmond, if you do, you will receive no allowance or trust fund. There's nothing I can do, she laments, nothing...nothing! She sits on the bed. Nothing except to rid yourself of this hate for Quentin, he says, and to try and help us!

Gerard answers a knock at the door--Charles Dawson. Gerard grins. May I congratulate you? asks Dawson. Gerard puts a warning finger of silence to his lips--not quite yet, he says--this house still reeks of the agony of the vanquished--would you believe that inside the bedrooms lies little plotters working on their counter plots?--I haven't inherited a kingdom, but a kingdom full of vicious rebels. All of whom you will deal with in good time, Dawson assures him. Smiling, Gerard agrees--yes, of course--but right now we must go down to the village. Gabriel wheels into the foyer. Should we take your carriage, or "one of mine?" asks Gerard. "Your carriage, of course, Mr. Stiles," grins Gabriel, "and may I suggest the new one that arrived two weeks ago--no one's ever touched it, not even Father--and I think it would be fitting for you, being the new master of Collinwood, don't you?" Dawson extends his sympathies to Gabriel, who says sarcastically, "I know where your sympathies lie, Counselor--are you two off to celebrate?" If you mean by telling Quentin, yes, says Gerard solemnly. Big bother in his cell, remarks Gabriel, what an appropriate place for him to hear the news--you know what?--he may kill you. That would save you the trouble, wouldn't it, Gabriel? asks Gerard. He and Dawson leave the house.

Jail - "And how is our prisoner tonight, Mrs. Ward?" Gerard asks Mildred. I don't go near him unless I have to, she says--I can feel the evil the minute I go into his cell. Oh, now Mrs. Ward, protests Dawson. He's planning something, though, says Mildred, ever since that Mr. Desmond came to tell him about his father--he's been so quiet-like--it scares me! He's probably in shock, says Gerard--may I enter the cell?--I know it's unusual, but I'd like to. You're very brave, remarks Mildred. Shrugging off his cloak, Gerard tells Dawson, keep Mrs. Ward company. She unlocks Quentin's cell; Gerard goes in. She re-locks the cell. Quentin and Gerard clasp each other's arms in a gesture of friendship. I came to talk to you about your father, says Gerard. To have him die thinking we were enemies, laments Quentin--I mind that very much. I know you do, says Gerard. I shouldn't be here, says Quentin, I should be at Collinwood, trying to help--by the way, who told Tad? Samantha, I believe, replies Gerard. I should have told him, says Quentin--he was very fond of Father--I suppose Trask is in charge of the funeral. Gerard nods. Will I be allowed to attend? asks Quentin. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you are there, promises Gerard. I'm not going to be handcuffed, insists Quentin, I want that understood. There is more disquieting news, reveals Gerard--the will has been read--Gabriel forced it--he wanted to find out if Daniel changed his mind--indeed he had--sorry, this is the only way I can tell you. It's all right, says Quentin, I half-expected, I don't mind for myself, really, if I should just get out of this place, I can provide for Tad. If you get out of here, says Gerard, you won't have to--if you're proven innocent, and indeed you will be--the whole estate reverts back to you. But until then, Tad has to live in that house, says Quentin, with Gabriel lording it over him--I know that's a fine way to talk about my own brother, but believe me I know Gabriel and all his faults. Gabriel won't be lording over Tad, says Gerard--the money, the estate and everything--he didn't get a penny. Who did? asks Quentin. "I did," reveals Gerard.

You? asks Quentin. I don't understand myself, says Gerard. You, says Quentin. Daniel must have thought that as far as I was concerned, says Gerard, I would be in control of the money and put it in trust for you--I know he didn't trust Gabriel with it--he kept asking me about your innocence, I assured him that you were--Quentin, the money, the estate, everything, I know it's not mine, I will merely administer it until you're free. Quentin looks at him oddly. What's the matter, asks Gerard, you don't trust me? Oh yes, I trust you, says Quentin. Good, says Gerard, and as far as the work, I won't do one thing without your permission--I will see that Tad is totally undisturbed, and I will only act temporarily until your final release. I will be released, you're sure of that, says Quentin. Positive, Gerard assures him. You know, Gerard, somebody is doing this to me, says Quentin. And I will do everything in my power, promises Gerard, to make sure and find out who it is. It's funny being here in jail, says Quentin, at least there can be no more killings, so whoever wants me in here can give me no more trouble. Gerard has an "I wouldn't count on that" expression on his face.

Gabriel sits in the Collinwood drawing room listening to Edith rant: "Everything was going to be different!" she taunts. Shut up! he orders. She goes on, "You were going to be master of Collinwood!" I'll kill you! he threatens. "I was going to have to listen to everything you said!" sneers Edith--"I was going to have to beg you for anything YOU wanted to give me--but as usual, you have nothing to give--nothing!--I'm glad I did what I did!" What did you do? demands Gabriel. She doesn't answer. They hear Gerard in the foyer making luggage and room arrangements. He's here, in this house, mocks Edith--it belongs to HIM now! Gabriel wheels himself to the foyer--Gerard, he says, I hope you don't mind if I save myself the embarrassment of welcoming you to Collinwood--sir. Not at all, says Gerard. I trust that big brother has doubts about you, too, now, says Gabriel. I only wish your thoughts were as kind as Quentin's are, remarks Gerard. Edith comes over and offers her hand to Gerard. He clasps it, grinning--at least you welcome me, he says, kissing her hand--run along, Charles and I have some work to do--I'll need your help later. She goes. Gerard laughs as he enters the drawing room and drops his cloak carelessly on the sofa--"It is all mine, Charles!" he exults--"how do I look--quite the country gentleman--yes, it's all mine!--here, have yourself a brandy, have another, have as much as you want--everything in this house now is mine!" For the moment at least, says Charles. Yes, says Gerard, with less pleasure, the curious codicil in the will--if Quentin is proven innocent. Everything is taken away from you, says Dawson, pouring drinks--and the case against Quentin is circumstantial. Suppose he were tried for witchcraft and not murder? asks Gerard. Dawson looks at him--no one has been tried for witchcraft in 200 years, he points out. It's about time it happened again, says Gerard--things happen in cycles--yes, and if the case against Quentin is strong enough... It's not, warns Dawson. It can be, counters Gerard--Quentin said a very interesting thing to me tonight

--now that I'm in jail, there won't be anymore killings. The men chuckle together. Killings, Charles, in the jail? asks Gerard--why do you laugh? Oh, if someone is found dead in the jail, says Charles, no visible marks on the body. Someone who is afraid of him, says Gerard, sipping his drink. Mrs. Ward, suggests Charles, slipping a black scarf from his jacket pocket. What is that? asks Gerard. Her scarf, says Dawson, handing one end to Gerard, I pocketed it just in case you and I were thinking alike. And indeed we are, says Gerard, smiling happily, indeed we are.

Desmond visits Quentin in jail, advising him, try to break the will by declaring your father insane. I won't do it! insists Quentin, horrified Quentin, warns Desmond, Gerard... I know what you think about Gerard, but I disagree with you, says Quentin--after all, I am innocent, and I will get the money back. And you think the man is capable of giving up all that? asks Desmond. Gerard will, says Quentin confidently. Your loyalty exceeds your good sense, says Desmond. We see the shadow of Mildred Ward reflected in the translucent door leading into Quentin's cell.

Edith walks into a dark room lit by candles, Gerard and Dawson are there. She exclaims over the place, thrilled. You will learn to love it, Gerard assures her. I know I will, she says delightedly. And tonight, dear Edith, you will help us, says Gerard--in a way no one else ever could--a way that will show you you are finally a part of us--you must not be afraid. I am not! she says with a smile. You will hear my commands and you will obey them, says Gerard, down to every letter--and when you wake, you will not remember one single thing--you are merely an instrument on which we play the dance of death--tonight, you will live, where someone else will die.

Don't you look at me! Mildred orders Quentin. Don't worry your little heart, Mrs. Ward, he says ironically. I must have been feeling sorry for you, she says--I brought back your dinner that you didn't touch before. Thank you, he says wearily, but I don't want any now, either. She looks at him uncertainly.

Gerard holds Mildred's scarf over Edith's head and calls, "Satan, give me the power so that I may help you and secure revenge against your enemies." He brings the scarf down to about Edith's chin level and says, "This is the devil's noose--the devil's noose and nothing ever escapes it--now Satan hear me, this, thy servant, I put the scarf around" (he arranges the scarf around Edith's throat) "but it will not hurt her--no, but the true owner of the scarf it will hurt" (he ties the scarf in a knot around Edith's throat).

"Funny," Mildred tells Quentin, "I feel something around my neck." She covers her throat with her hands. "You!" she cries, "You!"

Gerard ties the scarf around Edith's throat, chanting, "In that cell, you are feeling the powers of my hands!" Edith moves her head uncomfortably.

"You're doing this--stop it!" cries Mildred, feeling the pressure increasing around her throat. "What is it?" as Quentin. Stop! she cries. Finally, as Edith writhes almost in ecstasy, we quick cut back and forth between the two women, then both of them falling, falling to the floor.

Gerard rises from Edith's unconscious body--Dawson, he says, "It is done--and when she awakes, she will remember nothing and be perfectly all right--but Mrs. Ward..."

Quentin kneels beside Mildred Ward, calling her name. "She's dead," he says.

NOTES: This was one of the longest DS episodes I've ever Robservise! It looks like Gerard has secured his position as master of Collinwood with this latest stunt--given that Quentin and Mildred were alone, and she is now dead, how will he explain it away? Not only will Jim Ward but all of Collinsport be assured of Quentin's guilt as a witch--and perhaps a murderer for the second time.

Edith sure is an eager little beaver to help out in Satan's service, isn't she? (No pun intended.)

Loved the familial fighting between Gabriel, Edith and Samantha. Given how unlikable they all are, it almost gave me pleasure to see Gerard awarded the bulk of Daniel's estate. Of course, we know he manipulated the whole thing, but damn, I'd rather see the family dog, if there were one, get it all over any of these people!

Poor Desmond, caught in the middle of it all. He's a nice guy, and these folks are just so greedy and nasty. To hell with tradition, all they want to know is who's getting what. Watching Gabriel taken down yet another peg gave me joy. He killed his father and deserves nothing.

1162 - A horrified Trask finds Quentin kneeling over Mildred Ward's dead body. I didn't do anything, says Quentin hastily--she must have had a heart attack. You'll pay for this death, too, promises Trask, examining the body. I didn't touch her! protests Quentin. This is witchcraft, says Trask, the world will soon know it!--not enough to punish you for murder

--you must be destroyed as the warlock you are!

Daphne runs downstairs at Collinwood into the drawing room. You heard the news and came to congratulate me, says Gerard--yes, my dear Daphne, I really am master of Collinwood. You really do enjoy upsetting everyone, she accuses him, don't you? You're partially right there, he says, sitting down by the fireplace, but now I would like to explain myself so you would understand and maybe know me a little better. I think I already know you well enough, she says. You don't know me at all--yet, he says. I know you took advantage of the friendship Quentin offered you to steal his inheritance away, she says angrily. You're like everyone else, he says, but the truth is a little different--everyone thinks I've come here to spend the great Collins fortune, but they're wrong--he smiles--no, when Quentin returns, I will relinquish everything, most willingly and very gracefully--more gracefully than Gabriel possibly could--don't you believe me? No, she says. Why? he asks. I don't know, she says. You're going to have to trust me, he says, if we are going to have a nice future together. We won't have any future together at all, she assures him. You're wrong there, he smiles, when Quentin comes back, I shall leave Collinsport--but I won't be alone. I don't know what you mean, Mr. Stiles, she says. Eventually, he says, you will be leaving with me. That will never happen! she says angrily. There you are, says Desmond, entering, I'm glad I found both of you together. I was just leaving, says Daphne. Why? asks Desmond, is something wrong? Yes, Daphne, is something wrong? repeats Gerard. She looks down, not answering. If there isn't, I would like to discuss Tad, says Desmond. Ah, yes, a subject we're both interested in, says Gerard--I assured Quentin that I would look after the boy. Samantha is afraid that you will upset the child, says Desmond--she wants you to stay away from him. Really? asks Gerard, you're afraid I'll deliberately hurt the boy?--not acknowledge his existence when he enters the room?--he pours himself a drink--no, my dear friend, I'm afraid that boy is the only friend I really have--isn't that true, Daphne? I don't think Tad should be subjected to anymore of this dissension, she replies. And he won't be, either, says Gerard, if any comes, it will be from Samantha. The front door bangs. Trask rushes in--Desmond, he says, it's good that you're here--I understand you're reviving your dormant careers as an attorney, while you and this poor, misguided girl here have resisted every clue to Quentin's true nature--but you can no longer. What has happened? asks Gerard. Witchcraft in the citadel of justice, says Trask, in the jail itself--I have just come from there--the jailer's wife is dead--and Quentin Collins responsible. Desmond's face twitches with fury.

Witchcraft, scoffs Desmond--there must be a definite cause of death. Yes, says Trask, a warlock named Quentin Collins--I suggest you go to your client, counselor, I'm sure he needs you very much. I will go to him, simply to get the truth, vows Desmond--Lord knows I wouldn't believe you--he hurries out. And neither would I! says Daphne, going into the foyer and beginning to cry. Don't be frightened, begs Desmond. I don't know whether what I feel is fear or anger, she says. Let it be anger, suggests Desmond, there is no reason for fear. Isn't there? she asks. No, there isn't, he says, I'll be back as soon as I talk to Quentin. I want to go with you, she says. This should be a lawyer-client meeting, insists Desmond--will you be up later? I'll stay up, she swears, I have to know how he is! Desmond leaves. Daphne, her hands covering her mouth, stands with her back to the door, horrified.

Drawing room - I certainly don't want any taint of witchcraft around Collinwood, Gerard tells Trask. Come out into the open then, suggests Lamar, support me. What a primitive mind you have, says Gerard--there are other ways of helping you other than repeating everything you say publicly--no, I think it would be best if I just remained in the dark shadows. (How often has anyone actually said that?)

We see Quentin's shadow reflected on the cell wall as he asks Desmond, do you think Mildred Ward died because she feared me--or was it witchcraft?--and I don't mean my own--was she killed by the same person trying to destroy me?--I think of poor Jim Ward--his face when he saw his wife... The coroner is performing the autopsy now, says Desmond, to establish the cause of death. Supposing there's no viable cause? asks Quentin. We will worry about that later! says Desmond. You know, says Quentin, earlier tonight, I said to you, that at least since I was in jail, there would be no more killings--and now there's been another one. (Didn't he say that to Gerard?) You cannot be accused of murder because a woman was found lying dead here, insists Desmond--or because you were kneeling beside Randall's body--the evidence is all circumstantial!--you will walk out of that inquest tomorrow a free man--there is no case against you! Trask claims he found a voodoo doll in my lab, says Quentin--he says that I used it to try and strangle you--and he's going to bring up the ring I wear, the one he says has the mark of the devil--the same mark on Lorna Bell--Trask isn't merely crying murder--he's accusing me of witchcraft! Be sensible, says Desmond, you cannot be tried for witchcraft in this day and age, not since 1696, it is not legal!--the inquest tomorrow is merely to establish if there is any concrete evidence that you killed Randall Drew--and of course there isn't--I will ask them to throw the case out of court--and they will!--you'll be home tomorrow night a free man--faced with the problem of getting rid of Gerard Stiles.

Foyer, Collinwood - Gerard grins evilly--it's certainly good that Gabriel is in charge of his father's funeral, Trask--it makes him feel important. Yes, it's really quite tragic it should come on the same day as the inquest for Randall's death, says Trask--no chance is there that Quentin is responsible for Daniel's death, too? (Give it a rest, Lamar!) None at all, says Gerard. Then the Almighty spared Daniel, says Trask--will you be at the inquest tomorrow? No, says Gerard, I have duties to attend to--you understand. Perfectly, says Trask, we both have duties--tomorrow, how my poor, late father would have looked forward to it--I've always been convinced a Collins was responsible for his death, but never able to prove it--tomorrow, my father, wherever he is, will be smiling. Trask grins.

Drawing room - Hopeful, smiling, Daphne asks Desmond, be completely honest with me--do you really think Quentin will be free tomorrow? She hugs him, delighted, but draws away when she feels his response. I think it's time to say it, he says with a rueful smile--once, not long ago, I had hoped you'd run to me because of me--Quentin's a lucky man. You're so sweet, she says--what will happen when Quentin returns? I need Leticia's second sight to see that, he says, but there's one thing I do know--these extraordinary incidents--this careful plotting against Quentin--it will not stop. It must stop! Insists Daphne? Why? demands Desmond, do you think whoever is behind it will be discouraged?--I don't! I think it's Gerard that's doing it, says Daphne. You think so, too, says Desmond. I don't have any reason at all, she says, but he frightens me so, especially now that he's in the house. Does he know how you feel about him? asks Desmond. He doesn't know he frightens me, she says, he does know I don't trust him. That's too bad, says Desmond, I was never really able to check up on him at Rose Cottage--he knew how antagonistic I felt--but perhaps you... Looking uncertain, she suggests, I could watch him very carefully. You must, insists Desmond, we need positive proof he's doing something wrong--otherwise, Quentin will never believe us.

If it is witchcraft, says Daphne, then that means Gerard is... That's right, says Desmond, unaware Trask is listening--are you afraid to try to trap him? I won't let myself be afraid, she says. Good girl, praises Desmond, now get to bed--nothing more can happen tonight. They go to the doors. Trask quickly moves away. Desmond, says Daphne, as long as Gerard is in this house, something evil can always happen--I know that, though I don't understand why. Don't worry about tomorrow, says Desmond. You've made me feel much better, honestly, she says. Remember, watch Gerard, he reminds her. He kisses her hand, then leaves. She follows him to the door and sees him out. Trask exits the kitchen area and stands there, smiling.

4:20 - So Trask, you say that Desmond and Daphne are plotting against me, grins Gerard--she won't be plotting for long. Easy for you to say, says Trask, but I believe you're blinded by her beauty. I will worry about her, Gerard assures him, you just go along and worry about the inquest--good night. Good night, says Trask, and exits the drawing room. Now, Daphne, says Gerard, taking from his pocket the witch's symbol, shall I show you more of the future that you're afraid of?--the dreams that you don't understand?--now, he says, holding it up, closing his eyes, "Sleep, and in your sleep, you will think of me, kindly, more kindly than you would if you were awake--so, now what is to happen?"

Daphne, fully clothed, lies on her bed, sleeping. She dreams of many dripping candles adorning the foyer of Collinwood, of bridal music playing as she, dressed in a stunning white wedding gown, walks slowly across the landing. She stands at the top of the stairs. You must, she admonishes herself, you must! You want to go through with it--you love him so much, when you see him, run to his arms! Holding her bouquet, she walks regally downstairs and smiles at her groom, Gerard--who holds out his hand. My darling, he says. She goes to him, kisses him. You want to marry me, he says--I can tell, as I want to marry you--I can think of no other life together, but you and me, you by my side as my wife--the powers, I will share them with you--now, come to me. They kiss. Daphne awakens with a gasp. I must have had that dream again! she cries--why can't I ever remember it? She opens her door and finds Gerard standing there, smiling at her.

Gerard licks his lips. What are you doing here? demands Daphne. I thought you called me, he says. I couldn't possibly have called you, she protests, I've been asleep. You must have had another dream, he says, why don't you come downstairs and have a sherry with me?--it would relax you. He takes a step toward her. No! she cries, and closes the door in his face.

Courtroom - Desmond stands before one judge--on behalf of my client, he says, I wish to state that if he is held further and charged for a murder which is impossible to prove that he did, it will not only embarrass the state, but be an injustice to Mr. Collins--therefore, I request that the charges against Mr. Collins for the murder of Randall Drew be dismissed and dropped from the calendar court. The judge, played by none other than Addison Powell, AKA Dr. Eric Lang, says, I have investigated the charges against Quentin very carefully--you will notice that I have not asked the prosecutor to be present here. We have noticed, says Desmond. The reason I did that, says the judge, is because there is no reason for it--I see no conclusive evidence pointing to a link between Mr. Collins and the murder of Mr. Drew--I hereby dismiss all charges--the case will not come to trial. A relieved, smiling Quentin rises from his seat--thank you, he says. The judge bangs his gavel. We appreciate your wisdom, sir, says Desmond. Quentin puts an arm around his cousin--I can't believe I'm free, he says. You are not completely free as yet, warns the judge--Mr. Trask, you may enter, if you please. Trask comes in and hands some depositions to Judge Wiley. What depositions, your honor? asks Desmond as the judge shuffles through the papers. Trask responds: Depositions testifying that Quentin Collins is a warlock. This is a court of law, says Desmond as Quentin reacts with uncertainty to this accusation--a man may not be indicted for being a witch under the law in 1840. The judge bangs his gavel, calling for silence--"I have not given the counsel permission to speak--I am going to peruse these documents in my chamber--court is adjourned until three o'clock!" But you must explain, sir, insists Desmond. I need explain nothing until I have perused the documents, insists the judge. He leaves the bench. But there is no law! protests Desmond. Is your client above the law? asks Trask--because he is in league with the devil?

Tears runs down Daphne's cheeks as she stands before Quentin's cell--I can't believe they're going to bring up this charge? she cries. Quentin takes her face in gentle hands--somehow, he assures her, we will get together. We have to! she says, drying her eyes. We will, he vows. Desmond enters--it's nearly time, he says. Did you find anything in the lawbooks? asks Quentin. Not a thing, says Desmond--I have no idea what Trask is up to.

Courtroom - Judge Wiley, have you read the depositions? asks Trask. "I have," replies the judge. All brought to you by a private citizen as prescribed by law, says Trask. What law? demands Quentin, approaching the bench. "Order in the court!" cries the judge. Desmond joins them--Judge, he says, my client is only seeking his legal rights--he wants to know by what authority and action he is being held. "I am not considering holding your client," says Judge Wiley, "I have no choice but to hold him." Trask grins triumphantly at Quentin. Judge Wiley continues, "Under the power vested in me according to the laws of this state, number 119 dated 23rd of April, 1696..." There is no such law! interrupts Desmond, Maine was not a state then! "Counselor," says the judge, banging his gavel, "I do not need you to tell me the laws of this state that I am honor-bound to withhold--the articles of our statehood specify that we keep those laws engendered upon us when we were a part of the royal colony of Massachusetts--therefore, in accordance with law 119, dated 23 April, 1696, a citizen can be charged with witchcraft if there are depositions from six citizens claiming from personal experience acts of witchcraft and naming the perpetrator of said evil

--therefore, Quentin Collins, I hereby, by the power invested in me, charge you with the infamous practices of witchcraft." "No," mutters Quentin. Judge Wiley continues, "I order you to be held without bail or bond in the county jail--until such time as you come to a trial, under a special tribunal of three judges chosen specifically according to his law--upon completion of this trial, if you are found guilty, your punishment will be death in the manner prescribed by the law--beheading."

NOTES: Is DS playing fast and loose with 19th century law? Is all this true, or just a figment of the writers' imagination? I would assume the latter. I know a lot of people have been insisting that no one can be tried for witchcraft in 1840, but somehow, they've accused Quentin, and one has to wonder if it has any basis in fact.

I just want to murder Trask! He's such an idiot, misguided and stupid. When he overhears Daphne and Desmond discussing Gerard's possible part in all this, does he even consider for one moment that it might be true? No, because he wouldn't want to admit to being duped, the narrow-minded fool.

Quite a pretty wedding for Daphne in her dream, huh, all those candles and white lace? Given that he heads up a coven, would Gerard actually want a traditional wedding with one of his members? What would Edith think of that?

Now Trask has what he wants, as does Gerard. The fact that the latter refused to go public with his agreement with Trask's accusations of witchcraft on Quentin should also have alerted Lamar, but didn't. There are none so blind as those who will not see, I guess.

We're really having fun, aren't we?

Love, Robin