Whenever he spoke to his followers their knees knocked together with fright. At no time was he gentle, but when he was particularly violent, which was nearly always, he was a very bad person who could be well avoided.
So he became even crankier and crosser-grained than ever, till all around him quaked with fear. He wondered why the Human Octopus did not come back, and his inexplicable delay filled him with ungovernable fury.
“He’s not attending to business,” he said, grinding his teeth with rage. “Instead of snooping he’s just going around, and having a good time. But wait till he gets back, and I’ll show him!” As he spoke these words he happened to be in his throne room, and he went to the open window to look out.
It was a wild, terrible night, but the worse the weather was the more Dragonfel liked it.
The lightning zig-zagged all over the inky black sky, the thunder roared, the wind howled, and the rain beat down in slanting torrents.
“Vulcan must have some little job on hand,” Dragonfel pondered, as he returned to his throne.
Scarcely had he done so when there came a sudden fierce gust of wind that blew the Red Spirit through the window right to his very feet where he cringed and grovelled and fawned in the most abject manner.
“How now, you rogue?” roared Dragonfel above the storm. “Where have you been, and what has kept you? Why have you not returned as you went? Answer, villain, or it will go hard with you! I will have you strung up by the finger-tips till your toes barely touch the ground and beaten by a thousand and one whips!”
“Oh, master, kind master,” gasped the Red Spirit, trying to catch his breath, “wonderful things have I seen, and wonderful things have I to tell you. So incredible are they that you may not believe me, yet I do assure you most positively that what I am about to relate is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I would never have believed them myself had I not seen them with my own eyes.”