When all was done, he descended a few steps, and, taking a black hood from his girdle to place over the head of his victim, called out in a voice which had little human in its tone, "I wait for you, John Paslew." "Are you ready, Paslew ?" demanded the Earl of Derby.
"I am, my lord," replied the abbot.

And embracing the prior for the last time, he added, "_Vale, carissime frater, in aeternum vale! et Dominus tecum sit in ultionem inimicorum nostrorum_!" "It is the king's pleasure that you say not a word in your justification to the mob, Paslew," observed the earl.
"I had no such intention, my lord," replied the abbot.
"Then tarry no longer," said the earl; "if you need aid you shall have it." "I require none," replied Paslew, resolutely.
With this he mounted the ladder, with as much firmness and dignity as if ascending the steps of a tribune.
Hitherto nothing but yells and angry outcries had stunned the ears of the lookers-on, and several missiles had been hurled at Demdike, some of which took effect, though without occasioning discomfiture; but when the abbot appeared above the heads of the guard, the tumult instantly subsided, and profound silence ensued.

Not a breath was drawn by the spectators.

The ravens alone continued their ominous croaking.
Hal o' Nabs, who stood on the outskirts of the ring, saw thus far but he could bear it no longer, and rushed down the hill.

Just as he reached the level ground, a culverin was fired from the gateway, and the next moment a loud wailing cry bursting from the mob told that the abbot was launched into eternity.
Hal would not look back, but went slowly on, and presently afterwards other horrid sounds dinned in his ears, telling that all was over with the two other sufferers.