Here the speaker, whom I could now recognise as no other than Richard de Chevron, drew from under his cloak something carefully wrapt up in tissue paper. Having unwound the paper, he discovered a small statue of a man, about a foot in height, apparently in wax. "Why, you have got it as like as could be!" exclaimed the crone. "Yes, that is John Archer, sure enough; there is no mistaking him." My curiosity began to be roused, and Claribel's apprehensions for John's safety rushed across my mind. Though I was not near to the figure, I could see plainly that it was intended for a likeness of John Archer, and that it carried a gun over one arm. The hag seized the image in one hand with a sort of fiendish glee, and commenced mumbling some inarticulate sounds. I trembled from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, for I had heard of this way of working mischief on one's enemies from afar, and I feared lest some dreadful harm should happen to poor John, so I offered up a hasty prayer for his safety. "The charm is said," croaked the witch. "Now let the work begin." Here she set the image upright, and taking a long sharp pin she seemed about to transfix the waxen image with it; but I noticed that her hand trembled violently. I still continued to pray fervently, whereupon the witch was seized with such a fit of sneezing and wheezing that she was unable to proceed in her work. "Why, Madge," said De Chevron, "what is the matter? How have you managed to catch such a cold all of a sudden?" "Odds blood! I know not," answered the beldam; "it is as if I was in church." At the word "church" the wheezing came on again. "Ah! I see," said De Chevron; "It is the wind that is howling through that broken pane of glass," and he pointed to the very pane through which I was peeping. I thought my last hour was come, for I was sure to be discovered. However, I ducked down in a corner, whilst De Chevron stopped up the missing pane with a filthy rag without even catching a sight of me. Rising again to my feet, I managed to open the little window the least bit ajar, but just enough to see and hear all. My fright was so great all this time that I had unwittingly slacked a little in my prayer, and just at that moment Madge made a desperate plunge with the pin, which appeared aimed at the heart of the image; but as I had now recommenced my prayers, alas, somewhat too late, the pin missed its mark, but pierced the barrel of the gun, which, together with the thumb of the figure, fell upon the table. "Better next time, Madge," said De Chevron. "Try again." She made another essay, and then another, but missed the figure altogether. "I am not as young as I was," she said, by way of apology, "and neither my eyesight nor my hand are to be relied upon as of old." However, she aimed again and again at the figure, but with the same result. "Why, you _are_ getting old, Madge!" said De Chevron, surprised at her repeated failures. "Come, let me put the pins in."