“Then it was stolen from you by the Master Thief of the Adamant Mountains,” boomed the Wise Man.
“And perhaps you can tell us where he can be found,” said the King. The Wise Man shook his head.
“Ask me where lies the raindrop which fell yesterday in the river,” replied the Wise Man, “but ask me not where dwells the Master Thief. I do not know. No one knows. But as for breaking the spell, it is the spell-dispeller or nothing. Would that I could help you more!”
And, bidding the King a ceremonious farewell, the sage turned his attention to the questioner at the head of the long line, a stout peasant-fellow whose cottage chimney failed to draw.
But now you must hear of the Master Thief of the Adamant Mountains.
This mysterious personage, of whom all had heard, but whom none had seen, dwelt in a secret house in a lost valley of the mountains, a house so artfully shaped and so cunningly concealed with vines and branches, that the very birds of the air were deceived by it and would often come to roost on the chimney, mistaking it for a chestnut tree! As for the Master Thief himself, a kind of living bean-pole was he, for he was taller than the tallest, leaner than the leanest, and provided with a pair of long, tireless legs which could outrun and outlast the swiftest coursers in the land.
During the night, he moved through the world in a strange garment of pitchy blue-black, fitted as close to him as the skin to an eel; during the day, he wore a marvelous vesture on which were painted leaves, spots of sun, dabs of blue shade, and stripes of earthy brown.
Now this Master Thief was no ordinary robber, for he stole not for stealing’s sake, but only to gather new rarities for a wonderful museum he housed in the caverns under his dwelling. Surely there was never such a marvelous museum as the museum of the Master Thief!
Deep in the solemn echoing caves, ticketed and labeled each one, and arranged in order, shelf on shelf, was to be found the finest specimen of everything in the world which men had made or loved. The most comfortable chair in the world was there, the pointedest pin, the warmest blanket, the loudest drum, the stickiest glue, the most interesting book, the funniest joke, the largest diamond, the most lifelike stuffed cat, the handsomest lamp-shade, and a thousand things more. To relabel his collection, to move it about, to do things to it and with it was the supreme delight of the Master Thief. Seated in the most comfortable chair in the world, finger tips together, he spent hours gloating on his treasures, and wondering if he lacked aught beneath the sun. Presently he chanced to hear of the invisible baby’s opal perambulator, and instantly determined to add this new wonder to his gallery.
Going first to his secret den, he spun for himself a globe of delicate glass, spoke five words into it, and sealed them snug within. Next, he attired himself in his parti-colored suit, put the globe in his pocket, and fled on his long legs over hill and over dale to the royal city.