"'Tis the old parrty who will cure the Chivalier," said Mr. Hanlon, behind his hand. "It's the Old Man of the Mountain," whispered Toby. "It's the Magician who built the Tower," whispered Queen Miranda, in alarm. "Hit's me own father, as ever was!" cried Mr. Punch, aloud. "Greetings, old dear! 'Ere's a surprise, what? 'Owever did you come 'ere? Hi'm no end glad to see you, and the larst person Hi should 'ave thought to see in this--My word, what a lark!" "Come in, Punch," said the old gentleman, affably, "and your friends too. I'm very glad to see you, my boy. I've had some trouble in getting you here, but here you are at last, thanks to my good friend Hanlon, and you are now well out of the hands of Shiraz. Put the Little Boy down in that chair, and we'll see what we can do for him!" To speak of a grown-up youth with a mustache as a Little Boy seemed hardly respectful, but Freddie did not seem to mind it; indeed, his big round childlike eyes dwelt fondly on the old man, and there was something like a smile about his lips. He was seated gently in a chair within the room, and while Mr. Punch's father set down his lantern on a table, the others looked about them. They were in a small square room with a low ceiling. By the dim light of the candle they could see that it was bare and dusty; cobwebs hung in all the corners; there seemed to be no windows, but set upright in one wall was what looked like the back of a clock, as tall as a man. Opposite the door by which they had entered was another door. Around the walls were shelves, from floor to ceiling, crowded with hour-glasses of all sizes. The old gentleman observed the look which Toby cast at the shelves. "One of my store-rooms," said he. "I've got a good many of 'em, all told, and in fact you'll find a store-room of mine in the top of nearly every clock-tower in the world. It takes a deal of space to keep all the hour-glasses in, I can tell you. If you'll give me yours, I'll put 'em away for you. Shiraz got 'em away from me once, but he won't do it again. He manages to steal one now and then, when I'm away, but I usually get 'em back, sooner or later." He collected the hour-glasses from his visitors, and put them away on a shelf. "Look 'ere, parent," said Mr. Punch, "hif I didn't know better, I'd s'y as I'd seen this room before. There's the back of the clock, and the door over there looks like--" "You've a sharp eye, Punch, my boy," said the old gentleman. "Quite a detective you are, my son. Now, then, we'd better get busy. Aunt Amanda, do you want me to cast off your enchantment?" "Why do you call me that?" asked Queen Miranda. "Because that's your name. Don't you know who you are?" "I know I was enchanted once, under the name of Aunt Amanda." "No, no. You're enchanted _now_, under the name of Queen Miranda." "But Shiraz the Persian told us he would disenchant us, and he did." "No, no. You were yourselves before, and _now_ you are enchanted."