"Then he is doomed," said young Jack, in sepulchral tones. "The wizard will be numbered with the dead."
Thereupon, the necromancer was taken suddenly queer, and he retreated with a few confused words of excuse.
"He's gone," said Dick, laughing.
They pushed aside the curtains where the magician had disappeared, and found that there was a back staircase.
"There he goes, there he goes!" cried Harry Girdwood, excitedly.
"Yes, and he has left his skin," said young Jack.
Upon the stairs was the long black velvet robe covered with tin-foil ornaments, with which the necromancer was wont to frighten the ignorant and superstitious peasants who came to consult him out of their wits.
"I'll frighten old Mole with this," said young Jack.
"I don't suppose that they'll try to frighten us again into helping Mathias, the brigand chief, out of prison," said Harkaway, laughing.
"He shall hang as high as Haman," said Jefferson, sternly. "Of that I am so determined, that if there were no one else, I would willingly fix the noose myself. But hang he shall for murdering my poor and noble friend Brand."