Wilbur trailed after him down a long dark hallway that was musty with age. At the end of the hall was an equally musty room, sparsely furnished with sagging and broken odds and ends. It was not the furniture which engaged Wilbur's attention, but the other features of the place. On an ancient stand a sun-dial reposed, and next to it a large and milk-white glass ball. Near the stand a tripod stood over a sheet of metal on which a small fire blazed, and from the tripod a kettle was suspended. Something bubbled in the kettle, something that gave off a strange and noxious odor. Around the room jugs were scattered, and as Wilbur caught sight of the labels a chill ran up his back. There were such unusual items as _Essence of Dried Toad_, _Basilisk Oil_, _Chimera's Breath-Distilled_. "Sit down," A. J. Merlin said suddenly. Wilbur sat down with such abruptness that he almost went through an ancient sofa to the floor. Merlin's eyes lit up. "You really are timid," he said. "Yes, sir," Wilbur agreed hastily. "Do you think you can help me?" "Depends. It isn't my regular line. I came here looking for a special kind of person. If you're that person you can help me. In return I'll do the same for you. All depends on how cowardly you are." "I've never been brave about anything in my life," Wilbur said truthfully. He went on in detail. In a short history of his life he made it clear that he was a complete and abject coward. He was afraid of anything that walked or swam or flew, no matter how small. He was afraid of dark rooms. A dirty look made him tremble. "Perfect," Merlin breathed. He rubbed his taloned hands together. "Not a shred of courage in you." "Is that good?" Wilbur gasped. Merlin smiled, and with his smile his eyebrows slanted more than ever. His ears were suddenly elongated. "Ordinarily not," he said. Wilbur had a hunch that this time there would be nothing extraordinary to alter the case. "I've tried everything," he told Merlin. "I've gone to psychologists, read books, even tried Yoga. Nothing helps." "Naturally," Merlin said. "I'll tell you why: Everyone is a mixture of traits handed down from his ancestors. Somewhere in every man's ancestry is a brave person. Even if that bravery is hidden, it's still there, and it can be brought out." "What happened to me?" Wilbur wanted to know. "You got cheated," Merlin said as though he were immensely pleased. "You got only half the traits, and they were the cowardly ones. That's why you couldn't be cured. There was no bravery in you to be brought out." "Oh," Wilbur gulped. "I guess I'd better be going." He started to rise. "Sit down," Merlin said. Wilbur plunked back into the sofa. He watched Merlin walk to the stand and lift the glass ball. The old man peered into the ball and its color changed to rose, then purple. Something was going on inside it but Wilbur couldn't see what. "Who's this fellow Pete Bellows?" Merlin wanted to know.