“Which of you was it?” he cried in a broken voice; “tell me, or I’ll crack all your fingers up like fire sticks!” “What’s the matter?” said Jason, again; “you see for yourself we’ve been sitting by the table all the time you’ve been there.” “Something spoke--somebody, I tell you, as I sat here in the chimney corner!” He was beside himself with fury and had great ado to crush his emotion under. But he succeeded, and sat down again trembling all over. “A curse is on the house!” he muttered; then aloud: “I’ve had enough of your games, you black vermin! I won’t stand it, d’ye hear? Let there be an end!” We stared, dropped into our seats and were beginning our confidences once more, when the doctor started up a second time with a loud oath, and leaped into the middle of the room. “Great thunder!” he shouted; “d’ye dare!” This time we had all heard it--a wailing whisper that seemed to come from the neighborhood of the chimney and to utter the words: “Beware the demon that sits in the bottle,” and of the whole company only I was not confounded. As to the doctor, he suddenly turned very white again, and muttered shakingly: “Can it be? I don’t exceed as others do. I swear I have taken less this month than ever before.” With the terror in his soul he stumbled toward the door and was moving out his hand to reach it, when it opened from the other side and Zyp, as meek and pure looking as a young saint, met him on the threshold. Now, I had that morning, in the course of conversation with the changeling, touched upon Dr. Crackenthorpe and his weaknesses, and that ghostly mention of the bottle convinced me on the moment that only she could be responsible for the mystery--a revelation of impishness which, I need not say, delighted me. The method of her prank I may as well describe here. The embrasure for a fireplace in her room had never been fitted with a grate, and the hearthstone itself was cracked and dislocated in a dozen places. By removing some of these fragments she had actually discovered a broken way into the chimney of the sitting room below, down which it was easy to slip a hollow rail of iron which with other lumber lay in the attic. This she had done, listened for her opportunity, and thereupon spoken the ominous words. I think her appearance was the consummation of the doctor’s terror, for a shuddering “Oh!” shook from his lips, and he seemed about to drop. And indeed she was somewhat like a spirit, with her wild white face looking from a tangle of pheasant-brown hair and her solemn eyes like water glints in little wells of shadow. She walked past the stricken man all stately, and then Modred and I jumped up and greeted her. At this the doctor’s jaw dropped, but his trembling ceased and he watched us with injected eyes. Holding my two hands, Zyp looked coyly round, leaning backward. “I love a tall man,” she whispered; “he has more in him than a short one.” The doctor pulled himself together and came straggling across to the table.