“How, madam!” he cried, “the whole of the land mine without payment?”

“The whole,” she replied.

“If she should be arraigned and convicted it will be forfeited to the crown,” thought Nowell; “the offer is tempting.”

“Your attorney is here, and can prepare the conveyance at once,” pursued Mistress Nutter; “a sum can be stated to lend a colour to the proceeding, and I will give you a private memorandum that I will not claim it.  All I require is, that you clear me completely from the dark aspersions cast upon my character, and you abandon your projects against my adopted daughter, Alizon, as well as against those two poor old women, Mothers Demdike and Chattox.”

“How can I be sure that I shall not be deluded in the matter?” asked Nowell; “the writing may disappear from the parchment you give me, or the parchment itself may turn to ashes.  Such things have occurred in transactions with witches.  Or it be that, by consenting to the compact, I may imperil my own soul.”

“Tush!” exclaimed Mistress Nutter; “these are idle fears.  But it is no idle threat on my part, when I tell you you shall not go forth unless you consent.”

“You cannot hinder me, woman,” cried Nowell, rising.

“You shall see,” rejoined the lady, making two or three rapid passes before him, which instantly stiffened his limbs, and deprived him of the power of motion.  “Now, stir if you can,” she added with a laugh.

Nowell essayed to cry out, but his tongue refused its office.  Hearing and sight, however, were left him, and he saw Mistress Nutter take a large volume, bound in black, from the shelf, and open it at a page covered with cabalistic characters, after which she pronounced some words that sounded like an invocation.

As she concluded, the tapestry against the wall was raised, and from behind it appeared a figure in all respects resembling the magistrate:  it had the same sharp features, the same keen eyes and bushy eyebrows, the same stoop in the shoulders, the same habiliments.  It was, in short, his double.

Mistress Nutter regarded him with a look of triumph.

“Since you refuse, with my injunctions,” she said, “your double will prove more tractable.  He will go forth and do all I would have you do, while I have but to stamp upon the floor and a dungeon will yawn beneath your feet, where you will lie immured till doomsday.  The same fate will attend your crafty associate, Master Potts—­so that neither of you will be missed—­ha! ha!”

The unfortunate magistrate fully comprehended his danger, but he could now neither offer remonstrance nor entreaty.  What was passing in his breast seemed known to Mistress Nutter; for she motioned the double to stay, and, touching the brow of Nowell with the point of her forefinger, instantly restored his power of speech.

“I will give you a last chance,” she said.  “Will you obey me now?”