. A case for one of our superior wax images,
made to model, with pins complete. Melted before a slow fire ensures the
gradual wasting of the original with pangs corresponding to the insertion
of each pin."

The customer's fine eyes gleamed. "Give me one."

"I will sell you one," corrected the witch. "But I should warn you. They
are not cheap."

"No matter."

"Good. I was about to observe that since our sovereign liege KING RICHARD
granted peace to the Saracen the cost both of material and labour hath so
parlously risen that I am unable to supply a really reliable article under
fifty golden angels."

"I have them here."

"With special pins, of course, extra."

"Take what you will." The maiden flung down a leathern wallet that chinked
pleasingly. The witch, having transferred the contents of this to her own
pocket, proceeded to fashion the required charm, watched by her client with
half-repelled eagerness.

"Hawk's eye, falcon's nose, raven's lock, peacock's clothes," chanted the
crone, following the words with her cunning fingers.

"How--how know you him?" Panic was in the voice.

The other laughed unpleasantly. "Doth not the whole district know the Lord
Oeil-de-Veau by reputation?" She held out the image. "Handle him carefully
and use a fresh pin for each record."

The maid snatched it from her hands and was turning towards the door of the
hut when a low tap on its outer surface caused her to shrink back alarmed.
The witch had again been watching her with an ambiguous smile. "Should
Moddam wish to avoid observation," she suggested, "the side exit behind
yonder curtain--" In an instant she was alone. Flinging the empty wallet
into the darkest corner the witch (not without sundry chuckles) slowly
unbarred the entrance.

On the threshold stood a slim female figure enveloped in a cloak. "The love
potion I had here last week," began a timid voice, "seems hardly
satisfactory. If you stock a stronger quality, no matter how expensive--"

"Step inside," said the witch.

* * * * *

Some couple of months later the ladies of the house-party assembled at
Sangazure Castle for the Victory jousts were gathered in the great hall,
exchanging gossip and serf-stories in the firelight while awaiting the
return of their menkind.

"Hath any heard," lisped one fair young thing, "how fareth the Lord
Oeil-de-Veau? They tell me that some mysterious ailment hath him in
thrall."

At the words th