"What do you say now, sir? Do you feel sure that he is a humbug?"
"Of course not, but—"
At this juncture their conversation was cut short by a low, rumbling noise, that sounded like distant thunder.
As it continued, it increased in strength, until it became absolutely deafening.
Then suddenly upon a sign from the necromancer, it ceased, and the man of mystery arose and pointed menacingly with his wand at Mole.
"Ye have thought well to neglect my warning," he said, in a voice which thrilled poor Mole strangely; "the secrets of your inmost heart are known to me as to my familiar, and the penalty must be enacted."
Mole bounced up.
"Goodness me!"
Harry Girdwood laid a trembling hand upon the unhappy old gentleman, and played the part of Job's comforter once again with considerable effect.
"We are lost."