Mr. Mole looked up, gave one awful yell, then made for the door, and flew away as fast as his wooden legs would carry him.
And his yells continued, for all along his route young Jack had sprinkled a plentiful supply of crackers, which exploded as he ran.
An unearthly chorus, sounding like the discordant laughter of invisible fiends greeted his retreat, and he never stopped until he had got home, panting and gasping for breath.
As soon as he was out of the room Harry Girdwood locked the door.
"Come forth, my merry devils!" he shouted. "Old Mole's gone."
The curtain was drawn back, and in came Dick Harvey and Jack Harkaway, carrying lights.
The wizard threw back his head dress and long horsehair wig, and showed the grinning face of young Jack himself.
"Bravo, Jack," said his comrade, Harry; "you did it ever so much better than the other conjuror did."
"Was he frightened?" inquired young Jack.
"Poor old Mole! I never saw him so alarmed before."