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'You would dare to harm the great white wizard, Quiquaequod?' she enquired.

'Wizard?' he said uncertainly.

'Take no notice of the old fool,' barked Bert.

'You mean... he's a wizard?' said Thorpe, looking at the Doctor.

'You wouldn't listen to me before—and now you're in the power of Mr. Magister. I was proved right, wasn't I?'

A murmur from the villagers, almost of agreement. Thorpe looked wildly around for guidance.

A voice came from the back of the crowd: 'What are we waiting for? I thought we were going to burn him!'

'Quite right, friend,' said Bert, 'get on with it, man.'

Thorpe lifted the torch.

'Wait! Listen to me!' Miss Hawthorne's voice trembled with urgency. 'Under Mr. Magister, you have been frightened, injured, your property has been destroyed. Serve the great Quiquaequod! There lies peace and great joy...'

'Here, give it to me.' Bert grabbed the flaming torch from Thorpe's hand and made to light the fire. But he was prevented by a powerful hand on his shoulder, the hand of Wally Stead, the cowman.

'Hang on, Bert,' said Wally, mildly. 'Just suppose the lady's speaking the truth? We're going to look a right parcel of fools if we burn the wrong one, aren't we now?'

Bert looked at the irresolute faces surrounding him. 'Very well,' he sneered, 'if he's such a great wizard, let's see him untie himself.'

The faces cleared and turned with relief to the Doctor, awaiting a miracle. 'You choose to mock Quiquaequod,' the Doctor said haughtily. 'I will not. I do not choose to loosen my bonds.'

'No, because you can't, that's why,' said Bert triumphantly.

'But you will give a sign of your power, won't you, oh mighty one?' said Miss Hawthorne, her left eyelid twitching with the ghost of a wink.

'Of course,' agreed the Doctor. 'Er... what had you in mind?'

Miss Hawthorne looked around the village green as if seeking inspiration. 'I know,' she cried, 'that street lamp! Shatter the glass.'

The Doctor looked puzzled. Miss Hawthorne nodded at him meaningly. 'Er... that one by the churchyard gate?' asked the Doctor.

'Considering that its the only one in sight, it's quite probable that she does mean that one,' said Bert, sarcastically.

'Shatter it. Yes. Yes, of course. Let's see now...' The Doctor caught sight of Miss Hawthorne nodding even more vigorously.

'Oh, very well,' he said. 'Lamp! I order you to shatter!'

And shatter it did. As the fragments of glass tinkled onto the cobblestones, a gasp of amazement came from the crowd. Sergeant Benton, watching covertly from the pub window, grinned with satisfaction. Quite a tricky shot that, at such long range and with an automatic—especially an automatic with a silencer... It was to be hoped the old boy would guess what was going on. Yes, he obviously had.

'You see?' he was saying, 'I should hate to have to harm anybody, but honesty compels me to point out that the lamp could have been you. Any of you.'

The crowd shrank back.

'Now then,' went on the Doctor, 'watch the weathercock on the church tower.'

'Blimey,' thought Benton . 'He must think I've got a rifle.' The weathercock was at least half as far again as the broken streetlamp. The Sergeant raised his gun, squinted along the sights and pulled the trigger. The weathercock remained unmoved. The people of Devil's End went on watching expectantly.

'Well?' Bert said hastily.

The Doctor glanced at Miss Hawthorne, but she was too busy short-sightedly trying to locate the weathercock to notice his desperation. The Doctor took a deep breath and called, 'Now!'

Sergeant Benton aimed once more; there it was, the wretched bird, full in the sights. The gun coughed apologetically as he fired. The weathercock spun violently as the bullet hit its tail. The exclamations from the green were almost a cheer and one simple soul tried to start a round of applause. For a moment Bert was nonplussed. It seemed that he was in danger of losing all his followers.

'Drop that torch,' said the Doctor. 'You're beaten and you know it.'