I was resolved to try the
experiment, so procuring some of each without more delay, I gave them
into the possession of John Archer, who promised me to wear them always
about him; and whether or no De Chevron ever made any further attempt
against the life of his rival by means of magic I know not, but if he
did he must signally have failed, as for ever so long afterwards Archer
enjoyed the most perfect health and remained free from any further
accident. Whether De Chevron suspected that John Archer possessed some
countercharm against which his evil spells were vain, or if he again
essayed his magic after his first defeat, we know not, but certain it
was that he still cherished hatred against his rival, upon whom he was
determined to bring trouble, if not by necromancy, at least by natural
means. For some time past he had not been near us. This was evidently to ward
off suspicion from himself and check the village gossip. However, soon
after the disappearance of the image--whether or no he suspected it was
I who purloined it and wished to brave the matter out--he called and
informed us that he was going to London on important business, and had
come to take leave of us for a time. There was nothing in his manner
that appeared the least constrained or abashed. On the contrary, he
seemed more lively and witty than usual, asked kindly after all our
family, and even John Archer, whom he said he had not seen for a long
time, although he had heard of his misfortune, for which he professed
great sympathy, and hoped the poor fellow would not take his loss too
much to heart; adding that it was lucky that they had managed to save
his life without amputating his arm. Throughout all his discourse his manner had so much of frankness and
sincerity that I could hardly bring myself to believe that he was the
same villain whose infernal plot against the innocent John Archer, I had
accidentally unravelled. I began to think that somehow or other I must
have been under a delusion, until chancing to glance towards a glazed
cupboard in which the wax figure stood upright and was easily
discernable from where I stood, the whole of my recent adventure came
back to me forcibly. Yet there sat the author of this unhallowed deed,
this would-be murderer, smiling and chatting and paying compliments with
the easy grace of a courtier, with a countenance frank and open as a
spring morning. How could a girl of my age, ignorant of the world and
its wickedness, possibly imagine that a heart so black could be
concealed underneath so smooth an exterior? Had I not had positive proof
of his villainy within reach, I should certainly never have believed him
capable of such a deed. Even as it was I was obliged to gaze frequently
at the cupboard in order to reassure myself that I was not dreaming and
to prevent myself from being won over by his tongue. De Chevron was a quick observer, and noticed our furtive glances towards
the cupboard. Then fixing his spy-glass in his eye, he looked in the
same direction; but either saw or affected to see nothing. Afterwards he
got up and walked about the room, conversing the while, and in so doing
passed several times in front of the cupboard, looking in casually as he
passed. I felt sure that he must have seen the image, though there was nothing
in his manner that I could discover at all confused or unusual. I
believe he would have braved the matter out if I had told him to his
face that it was I myself who had stolen the image after I had overheard
with my own ears this villainous plot against poor John. He was just the
sort of man who would have looked me full in the face and denied ever in
his life having been in Madge Mandrake's cottage. He would have tried to make me believe that I had been the victim of
some fearful delusion from my over-excited fears or what not, that the
image was not of his making; would have denied ever having set eyes on
it before. Nor would, in all probability, have seen any likeness
whatever to John Archer, and would have treated as nothing more than a
coincidence the fact of John's gun and the loss of his thumb occurring
at the same time that the gun and thumb of the waxen figure were damaged
by old Madge's pin thrust. He would have asked me if I thought him capable of believing in such
trumpery, and would have tried to laugh me out of my superstition. All
this I should have expected from him, such was his amount of assurance. Once I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask him what he thought of the
image, and if he knew anyone it resembled; and would have done it, too,
as I was anxious to observe what effect a sudden allusion to the image
would have had upon him, but at that moment my father, who knew nothing
of the affair of the waxen image, entered the room, and the conversation
took another direction. Shortly afterwards he left the house, promising to call again after his
return from London. As he had been so particular in telling us of his
intended visit to London, of course, I believed him. What reason could I
have had for not doing so? Nevertheless, it proved to be all a
falsehood. He never had any intention of going to London at all; and
never left the village. But why this deceit? you will naturally ask. Listen, and tell me if you
could have imagined a scheme so diabolical as the following ever
entering into human brain. To carry out his base designs he hired a
certain pedlar, one Michael Rag, well known to be a shady character,
and envious of John Archer's comparatively easy circumstances, so having
talked him over, if not by bribery, at least by instigating him in a
manner suggested by his own natural cunning as calculated to excite the
covetous disposition of the tool he intended to use for his own
purposes, to purloin John Archer's silver watch, a present he had
received from his master for his faithful services. This watch De Chevron represented to the pedlar as being one of superior
workmanship, and far too good for a man of John Archer's position to
wear. He blamed his uncle for lavishing handsome presents upon
undeserving hangers-on. Who, after all, was John Archer? He (De Chevron)
could remember him in worse circumstances even than the pedlar himself. Whence his good fortune? From his merit? Pooh! It was easy enough for
any man to keep a good place when he had once got it, if he wasn't quite
a fool. Then as to his getting it in the first place, mere luck. Why, as
if there were not many a better man than John Archer for such a post. Was he more honest than any other? Bah! every man is honest until he is
found out to be the contrary. Thus, first by raising the pedlar's cupidity by a vivid description of
the watch, then by giving an additional stimulant to his envious nature
by representing the owner of the watch as unworthy of such a present, he
finally wound up by insinuating, rather than broadly stating, that the
pedlar himself was a man of merit and deserved being in a better
position than John Archer, if all men had their rights.