Now, against the wall at this end hung a very odd specimen of a looking-glass. Its surface was convex, and in shape it was neither square, nor round, nor exactly oval, for it was pointed at both ends. Its length was divided into three parts, of which the central one was black, and those at the sides of a dull white like china. Altogether it looked like a gigantic eye plucked from the forehead of some Polyphemus; and hung up in the old inn-parlour, where, if it could no longer see anything itself, it might at least give those who gazed into it a distorted image of themselves.
When Yellow-cap, however, first fixed his eyes upon this curious mirror he could see nothing but a profound depth of blackness; but in the midst of this obscure movements were presently visible. By and by the many wavering shapes grew clearer and drew near to one another and, as it were, melted together, until at last a definite image stood forth against the dark background.
A strange figure it was—of a short-legged, shapeless man, with no less than seven heads upon his shoulders. Six of these Yellow-cap knew at once; but the seventh—the central and most important one of all—was unknown to him. And what an unpleasant set of features it had, to be sure!
The whole company had gathered behind Yellow-cap, who was standing directly in front of the mirror.
'You don't know him?' spoke the voice of Ruba.
'He knows you,' said Dubb.
'He is an old friend of yours,' remarked Dubsix.
'And a very dear one,' added Menin.
'And a very false one,' observed Atub.
'What does it all mean?' inquired Yellow-cap.