"Don't provoke him," whispered Ginger, plucking the Tinker's sleeve. "For my part, I shan't stay any longer. I wouldn't take his money." And he quitted the room. "I'll go and see wot's the matter wi' Ginger," said the Sandman, slinking after him. The Tinker looked nervously round. He was not proof against his superstitious fears. "Here, take this purse, and trouble me no more!" cried Auriol. The Tinker's hands clutched the purse mechanically, but he instantly laid it down again. "I'm bad enough--but I won't sell myself to the devil," he said. And he followed his companions. Left alone, Auriol groaned aloud, and covered his face with his hands. When he looked up, he found the tall man in the black cloak standing beside him. A demoniacal smile played upon his features. "You here?" cried Auriol. "Of course," replied the stranger. "I came to watch over your safety. You were in danger from those men. But you need not concern yourself more about them. I have your pocket-book, and the slip of paper that dropped from it. Here are both. Now let us talk on other matters. You have just parted from Ebba, and will see her again this evening." "Perchance," replied Auriol. "You will," rejoined the stranger peremptorily. "Remember, your ten years' limit draws to a close. In a few days it will be at an end; and if you renew it not, you will incur the penalty, and you know it to be terrible. With the means of renewal in your hands, why hesitate?" "Because I will not sacrifice the girl," replied Auriol. "You cannot help yourself," cried the stranger scornfully. "I command you to bring her to me." "I persist in my refusal," replied Auriol. "It is useless to brave my power," said the stranger. "A moon is just born. When it has attained its first quarter, Ebba shall be mine. Till then, farewell." And as the words were uttered, he passed through the door. CHAPTER VIII THE BARBER OF LONDON