Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net TALES OF THE WONDER CLUB. BY DRYASDUST [Decoration] ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN JELLICOE AND VAL PRINCE, AFTER DESIGNS BY THE AUTHOR. HARRISON & SONS, 59, PALL MALL, _Booksellers to the Queen and H.R.H. the Prince of Wales._ _All rights reserved._ LONDON: PRINTED BY A. HUDSON AND CO., 16, WANDSWORTH ROAD, S.W. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE FRONTISPIECE -- TITLE PAGE -- THE PHANTOM FLEA 17 THE SPIRIT LOVERS 57 THE GLACIER KING 118 THE MERMAID 129 THE PIGMY QUEEN 202 THE SPIRIT LEG 314 LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 373 INTRODUCTION. A PEEP AT THE WONDER CLUB. Towards the close of the last century there stood in one of the Midland counties of England, in the centre of two cross-roads, a venerable hostelry, built in the reign of Elizabeth, and known by the sign of "Ye Headless Lady." Its ancient gables were shaded by luxuriant elms and beech trees. The woodwork of the building and its weather-stained walls of brick were partially overgrown with thick ivy, while its high, dingy-red roof was tinted with every variety of lichen. The windows were narrow, and the framework heavy, as is usual in houses of that period. The host of this establishment, one Jack Hearty, was one of the old school of landlords--robust, jovial, and never above his business. His fathers had owned the inn before him, and "he never wished to be a better man than his father, nor a worse either, for the matter of that," as he would say. All day long, when not engaged with his customers indoors, he was to be seen at the door of his inn, with his apron girt around him, and a "yard of clay" at his lips, straining his eyes down the long cross-roads for the first glimpse of a customer. Often after gazing long and intently into the distance he would turn back with a sigh, knock the ashes from his pipe, refill it, take a deep draught of his own home-brewed ale, then, if none of his customers required anything, and the affairs of his household permitted it, he would sally out again. This time, perhaps, his eyes would be greeted by the sight of a solitary wayfarer, or, better still, the stage-coach. Then it was that the honest landlord's face would brighten up, as it was certain to bring him some of the "big-wigs" from town. He would rub his hands and chuckle, while Dame Hearty would begin to bustle about to welcome the fresh arrivals. It was not often, however, that the "Headless Lady" was entirely deserted.