Beside the chair was a large oval frame.
Upon the other side of the necromancer's chair was a heavy curtain, or portière of cloth, covered with fantastic figures, and this was drawn aside a minute or so after Mr. Mole and Harry Girdwood appeared.
Then, through the dark aperture thus disclosed, the wizard hobbled in.
Not the wizard that we have seen before, but a little old man bent half double with age, and of whom little was to be seen save a long white beard and an appropriate robe.
He leant heavily upon a staff, and sank into his chair with evident pain and difficulty.
"What would ye with me?" said the necromancer, in feeble, querulous tones. "If ye have come to scoff again, begone ere I summon an evil spirit to blight ye."
Mr. Mole said nothing.
But when Harry Girdwood placed his hand nervously upon the old gentleman's arm, as if for protection, he felt that he was trembling slightly.
"He knows that we are English, you see," whispered Harry.
"Ye-es—ahem!—ye-es."