"Nay, ’tis well earned," I answered; "but may I ask a favour? The trick you showed me with the little balls--wilt do that again?" "With all my heart," says he; and forthwith did it; and many others, too, still more astonishing. "More work, more pay," said I, when he had finished. "Here is another shilling. And, look you, if you care to call at our house, The Havering--’tis a lonesome place a mile or so from Lyme, and well-beknown to all--if you choose to call, I say, you may be certain of a welcome. My father, I’ll wager, would rejoice to see those tricks of yours. And that reminds me; you have my name, friend--prithee, what is yours?" "Well, ’tis a passing curious one," he answered, grinning like a skull. "Nay, worse than that, ’tis downright heathenish and wicked--Tubal Ammon--as black a name, I trow, as ever was." "Well, well," said I, consolingly, "you did not name yourself; and ’tis at least one easily remembered. So now, friend Ammon, here is a right good evening to you; and, as I said before, if you choose to call upon us at The Havering you may be certain of a right hearty welcome." With that I would have ridden off, but he touched my arm and said: "Stay! I would fain return such kindness by showing thee some very curious things. See," he added, bringing forth a little carven case, "here is a tiny bow and arrows. Toys, say you? and yet the veriest scratch from one of these fine points means death; for they are poisoned. Again, this amulet, the which I keep so thickly wrapped in cloth: behold how richly it is carved, how beautiful and innocent it looks; but wear it for an hour and you are dead, for, likewise, it is poisoned. And, yet again, this tiny wooden dart, scarce bigger than a tailor’s needle; one prick from it means death--poisoned also. The wretches that I lived with use these things, and many more besides, for secret killing. Take them in your hands, good sir, I pray you. Your gloves will save all harm. Examine them and see how finely they are wrought." I did so; and was bending over them in gloating fashion when a gentle click aroused me, and, turning suddenly, I found the muzzle of a pistol close beside my head, with an evil, grinning face beyond it. "Good friend," said Tubal Ammon, "thou art rich and I am very needy. Give me all thou hast, and give it quickly." This was an ugly business, sure enough. I was unarmed, while a bullet with scarce a foot to travel could not fail to hit the mark. Yes; the pressure of a finger meant sure death, nor did I doubt the rascal’s villainous intention, even if I gave him what he asked; for either he would shoot me as I got the money out or as I turned to ride away. My horse was just the very thing he wanted. Thus I argued swiftly with myself, and saw that to dissemble was my only hope.