The Old Tobacco Shop Part 35

At this moment Mr. Hanlon stopped upon a landing. It had been a long while since there had been a landing, and they were all glad to rest upon it. They crowded about Mr. Hanlon in the dark.

"The door is over there," said he. "Keep close to me."

He walked a few feet forward across the level floor, and came to a stop again.

"'Tis the top of the tower," said he. "I hope we're not too late to save the young lad's life. Stand close behind me."

He moved forward again, and stopped; he was evidently feeling a wall with his hands.

"Ah!" said he. "'Tis the door itself. Now, thin, we'll see!"

He knocked upon the door with his knuckles.

There was no response.

He knocked again.

There was a sound upon the other side of the door, as of the rattling of a chain and the sliding of a bolt.

A slit of light appeared up and down in the dark wall; it became wider; it was apparent that the door was opening; and in another moment the door was flung wide, and in the doorway stood an Old Man, holding up in his right hand a lantern in which glimmered a candle.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SORCERER'S DEN

He was an old man, rather stout, dressed in a short gown tied in with a cord about the middle, and wearing sandals on his feet. He stooped somewhat; a white beard hung to his waist; his head was bald, except for a forelock of white hair which drooped over his forehead towards his eyes. There was a humorous twinkle in his eye, and a smile overspread his broad round face.

"'Tis the old parrty who will cure the Chivalier," said Mr. Hanlon, behind his hand.

"It's the Old Man of the Mountain," whispered Toby.

"It's the Magician who built the Tower," whispered Queen Miranda, in alarm.

"Hit's me own father, as ever was!" cried Mr. Punch, aloud. "Greetings, old dear! 'Ere's a surprise, what? 'Owever did you come 'ere? Hi'm no end glad to see you, and the larst person Hi should 'ave thought to see in this--My word, what a lark!"

"Come in, Punch," said the old gentleman, affably, "and your friends too. I'm very glad to see you, my boy. I've had some trouble in getting you here, but here you are at last, thanks to my good friend Hanlon, and you are now well out of the hands of Shiraz. Put the Little Boy down in that chair, and we'll see what we can do for him!"

To speak of a grown-up youth with a mustache as a Little Boy seemed hardly respectful, but Freddie did not seem to mind it; indeed, his big round childlike eyes dwelt fondly on the old man, and there was something like a smile about his lips. He was seated gently in a chair within the room, and while Mr. Punch's father set down his lantern on a table, the others looked about them.

They were in a small square room with a low ceiling. By the dim light of the candle they could see that it was bare and dusty; cobwebs hung in all the corners; there seemed to be no windows, but set upright in one wall was what looked like the back of a clock, as tall as a man.

Opposite the door by which they had entered was another door. Around the walls were shelves, from floor to ceiling, crowded with hour-gla.s.ses of all sizes.

The old gentleman observed the look which Toby cast at the shelves.

"One of my store-rooms," said he. "I've got a good many of 'em, all told, and in fact you'll find a store-room of mine in the top of nearly every clock-tower in the world. It takes a deal of s.p.a.ce to keep all the hour-gla.s.ses in, I can tell you. If you'll give me yours, I'll put 'em away for you. Shiraz got 'em away from me once, but he won't do it again. He manages to steal one now and then, when I'm away, but I usually get 'em back, sooner or later."

He collected the hour-gla.s.ses from his visitors, and put them away on a shelf.

"Look 'ere, parent," said Mr. Punch, "hif I didn't know better, I'd s'y as I'd seen this room before. There's the back of the clock, and the door over there looks like--"

"You've a sharp eye, Punch, my boy," said the old gentleman. "Quite a detective you are, my son. Now, then, we'd better get busy. Aunt Amanda, do you want me to cast off your enchantment?"

"Why do you call me that?" asked Queen Miranda.

"Because that's your name. Don't you know who you are?"

"I know I was enchanted once, under the name of Aunt Amanda."

"No, no. You're enchanted _now_, under the name of Queen Miranda."

"But Shiraz the Persian told us he would disenchant us, and he did."

"No, no. You were yourselves before, and _now_ you are enchanted."

"My brain is in a whirl," said Queen Miranda. "Are we ourselves now, or were we ourselves before?"

"By crackey," said Toby, "it's too much for me, and I give it up.

Anyway, what we want to know is, can you cure the Chevalier?"

"I can, and I will," said the old man. "There's nothing the matter with him, except that he isn't himself. As soon as he's himself again, he'll be well. He was given the chance once before, but he didn't know how to use it; he made a great mistake."

"What mistake?" said Toby.

"He made the mistake of carrying the Old Man of the Mountain on his back. If he had only lifted him up in his arms before him, the Old Man would have been as light as a feather, and Freddie would have been himself again in a flash. But of course he didn't know. We've got to correct his mistake."

"Well, by crickets," said Toby, "this is Correction Island, right enough. Blamed if I know which is the mistake and which is the correction. It looks to me as if it was a mistake to be corrected, and we've got to correct the correction back again."

"Something like that," said the old man, smiling. "I'm going to undo the correction of each one of you, and then you'll all be yourselves once more, instead of these false things you now are."

Queen Miranda looked at the ruby ring on her finger, and wept quietly to herself. As for Freddie, his eyes never left the face of the old man.

The old man stooped over Freddie, and laid his cheek against the young Chevalier's pale forehead, and then against the young man's cheeks; he then threw aside the blankets and sat himself down on Freddie's knees.

His body pressed the young man's breast, and his cheek touched the young man's cheeks one after the other. It was some moments before there was any change. The others watched anxiously. A red glow began to appear in Freddie's cheeks, and his eyes became brighter. He raised his hands; he moved his head; he looked about him; he smiled into the face of the old man.

"You are better?" said the old man.

"I'm very well," said Freddie, in a clear voice. "But I think I must have been sick. Have I been sick?"

"Rather," said the old man. "But you are going to be yourself again in another minute. Now, then; put your arms around me and lift me off. Can you do that?"

"Easily," said Freddie, and he lifted the old man in his arms, and rising to his feet at the same time, tossed the old man off with an easy gesture.

As the old man touched the floor, there was no longer any Chevalier.

Freddie was standing before the chair in his own person; the Little Boy once more, with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. He looked around in surprise.