Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 34

"Don't, Harry, don't! Pray consider Mrs. Mole and the two babes."

"Try and melt him with a very humble apology."

"I will, I do!" exclaimed Mr. Mole in great excitement. "I really did not mean it, Mr. Conjuror; 'pon my soul, I did not; and pray do not let your vampires take my her-lud."

"Enough," said the wizard, sternly; "for once your ignorance shall excuse you. Now say what you would have with me and begone."

"I think I should like to go," Mole whispered to Harry,

"What for?"

"We have been a long while here," said Mr. Mole in the same tone; "Mrs.

M, will be looking for me."

"Perhaps you don't feel quite comfortable here."

"Comfortable," said Mr. Mole with a sickly smile; "oh, dear me, yes, I never was jollier."

"A little nervous perhaps, sir."

"My dear boy," said Mole, positively, "I have nerves of iron, literally iron. Ha! what noise is that?"

"Only the magician's evil spirit, or his familiar, as he calls it."

"Strange," said Mole; "but sheer humbug of course."

"Humbug?"

"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed Mr. Mole, very anxiously.

Bang went that deafening thunder again, and Mr. Mole hopped towards the door.

Harry Girdwood followed him closely up.

"You are uncomfortable, Mr. Mole."

"Not at all; nerves of adamant, Harry."

The latter laughed.

Never was there such an audacious humbug as Isaac Mole.

"You see that frame, sir, beside the wizard's chair?" said Girdwood.

"Yes," replied Mr. Mole; "what of it?"

"He showed us some marvels there last time."

"What is it?"

"A magic mirror."

"You must have been thoroughly well cheated; now, what could he have shown you there?"

"Wonders," replied Harry impressively; "you, amongst other marvels."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sir, that you appeared before us as plainly as I see you now."

Mr. Mole certainly looked serious at this.

"He can show you anyone you may want to see," said Harry.

"Never!"

"Try him."

"I will," said Mr. Mole, with a show of determination, but shaking all over.

"Now, O sceptic, what proof of my lore would ye have? Would ye know something of yourself?"

"No."

"Yes," said Harry Girdwood for him promptly.

The wizard inclined his head gravely, and opened a large volume before him upon the table.

After poring over this for a time, he said the following doggrel in a deep ba.s.s voice--

"The doom of Mole is understood, For ever more to walk on wood; Though upon macadam or stone Yet he shall walk on wood alone.

"Let him march out on asphalte--tile, In orange groves his thoughts beguile; Where'er he be, the fate of Mole's To scud through life upon bare poles"

This peculiar incantation had its effect somewhat increased by soft music.

"Ahem!" said Mr, Mole, "it didn't want a wizard to tell me that."

"What, sir?" demanded Harry, innocently.

"About my wooden legs; my infirmity is visible to every body."

"But how could he know?"