ere obtainable; hence the
hybrid--partly scorpion and partly beetle, that appeared and
disappeared in Gladys's bed and bedroom.

To produce the rappings on the walls of Gladys's room, he had made a
wax representation of a wall, and whilst concentrating to the very
utmost, had struck it with his knuckles.

The plaguing of the servants Hamar had also accomplished by means of
images and concentration.

But in order to bewitch milk, he had been obliged to resort to other
means. He had converted the mumia of an idiot into a magnes
microcosmi; and bribing the man who delivered the milk, he gave him
instructions to soak the magnes microcosmi, for a few minutes, in
every portion that he left at the Cottage.[24]

At length Hamar having failed to gain his object by plaguing Gladys
and the servants, set about tormenting John Martin. He made a wax
image of the latter, and after pronouncing the necessary prayer, stuck
the image full of pins, crying out as he did so "John Martin, I hate
you. John Martin, I curse you. John Martin, a plague on you." And each
time Hamar stuck a pin in the image he had made of John Martin, the
real John Martin felt an acute pain in the region of his body
corresponding to that in which the pin was stuck.

The doctor, who was called in, could make nothing of the malady, but,
following the etiquette of the profession, cloaked his ignorance with
a look of profound wisdom, and the pronouncement that he would tell
them, in a day or two, what was the matter. In the meanwhile, he found
it necessary and politic to prescribe a non-committal mixture of chalk
and rhubarb, which, although disguised under the usual fanciful
pharmacopoeia appellation, did not, however, allay the pain. Sharp,
agonizing pricks, now on the neck now in the chest, now in the most
sensitive part of the knee-cap, now under the toe-nail, now--most
painful of all--under the finger-nail--continued to torment John
Martin, who, though as a rule fairly stoical, could not stand these
attacks with any degree of composure. He screamed, and swore, and
cursed, until the whole household was terrified--and Gladys, pretty
nearly out of her mind.

During a lull--an interval, wherein John Martin enjoyed a brief
respite, the telephone bell rang.

"Hulloa," called a voice, "I'm Hamar. Haven't you had about enough of
it? Remember, you've only to say the word and I'll stop."

"Tell him I'll do nothing of the sort," John Martin said, "that he'll
never