“No more of that,” he admonished. “The next time you will find yourself in paradise, or some other world. Listen, fool, once and for all—if all goes well here I will give you double of that which you already have. But if you betray me, or make one foolish blunder, then you will receive, not gold, but a punishment that is worse than anything you dream of.” Stas beat a retreat down the stairs, the stranger behind him. “Remember,” was the final admonishment, “we will be here just after the second hour has sounded. Let us in, and your part in this is finished.” Now it so happened that Pan Kreutz, the alchemist, was working alone in the loft above his room that night. He had already finished one experiment, and was about to begin a more difficult one, when his attention was caught by the sudden barking of a dog in the court beneath. “What can that be?” he thought. “There is no moon to cause barking, nor does the dog bark at any of the dwellers in the court.” He quickly threw a covering over the lantern that lighted the loft and opened the door so that he might look down. His suspicions that all was not well in the court were confirmed in the next second when he heard a whispered conversation somewhere below, while the stairs creaked as if two persons were ascending. Then all at once came an exclamation of pain in a voice that he recognized as Stas’. More whispering, and the footsteps descended. The next instant the alchemist, leaning forward to listen, heard the stranger’s final instruction to Stas. “There is, then, some mischief afoot,” he decided. “Doorkeepers do not let honest visitors into any house at two o’clock in the morning.” He reëntered the attic room, and uncovered the lantern after making fast the door. For some time he puzzled about what he had heard. Who was the stranger, and what business did he have with Stas, the watchman? And what ought he to do about it? He was for a moment minded to notify the night watch. “I am perhaps magnifying things,” he finally concluded “More than likely two o’clock on the morrow was meant. Besides, I myself could give any marauder here a very warm reception—” he glanced about the loft. The thought seemed to please him, for he chuckled for the space of a moment, and then turned seriously to his work. For an hour or more his experiment, which was difficult and exacting, held all his attention. But when it was finally finished and the results carefully noted, the thought of Stas and his mysterious visitor returned to him. In the stillness of the late hour the affair seemed to show a graver face.