A cold perspiration broke out all over Josiah’s body as he found himself mysteriously compelled to meet the dreadfully glittering round eyes of the uncanny Object that discoursed with him thus familiarly. Faintly he managed to stammer forth-- “Who the ---- are you?” “You were going to say ‘Who the Devil are you’--and why didn’t you?”--retorted the Creature, rapidly untwisting one hairy arm from the embrace of one hairy leg and diving into its red body-covering, from which it produced a small card on which certain letters danced and flickered like tiny dots of flame--“Who the Devil am I? Here, the Devil, is my card! Promised you, the Devil, I would hand it to you, and so, the Devil, I do! Name’s quite easy, you’ll find!” With shaking fingers McNason gingerly accepted the card held out to him by the unpleasant looking claw which served his visitor for a hand, and with great difficulty, owing to the constant jumping up and down of the inscribed characters, read: PROFESSOR GOBLIN, Hell’s United Empire Club. McNason’s fingers shook more violently than ever, and he hastily dropped the card, which as it fell, curled up like a firework bag in a Christmas cracker, emitted a clear blue spark of light, and vanished into space. “The title of ‘Professor’ isn’t really mine,”--explained the Creature, blinking at him with its owl-like orbs--“I took it.” Sinking back in his chair, Josiah covered his eyes with one hand and groaned. He must be very ill, he thought!--he must be sickening for some fatal malady! His brain was going!--and this terrible visitation--this hallucination of his senses, was the sign and effect of a mental disorder which had come on suddenly and was rapidly growing worse! How long--how long would it last! “Lots of fellows do it,”--observed the Goblin, after a brief pause. Some compelling influence forced the panic-stricken millionaire to speak--to reply--in fact to keep up conversation, whether he liked it or not. “Lots of fellows do what?” he murmured feebly, still holding one hand over his eyes. “Call themselves Professors when they’re not,”--said the Goblin. Here ensued a moment’s intense stillness. Even the noise of the storm outside had, for that short interval ceased,--the fire burned silently,--and not a breath stirred the air. Only the glowing tassel on “Professor” Goblin’s cap waved to and fro as though moved by an unfelt wind. “When I rang you up on the telephone just now,”--resumed the Goblin-- But at this McNason jumped in his chair and uncovered his eyes. “_You_ rang me up?--you--you--!” he stammered. “Yes--I! Who did you think it was, eh? Your ‘private wire’? Oh, Beelzebub! Nothing’s ‘private’ to me! I should ring up the Prime Minister out of his bed if I happened to want him!” McNason felt the muscles of his back stiffening in horror. “You would?--you would----?”