sitors. Meanwhile he would
himself institute a slight preliminary scrutiny.

The bell was accordingly unhung, tilted up, and inspected by the combined
beams of the moonlight and torchlight. Very slight examination served to
place the soundness of the bishop's opinion beyond dispute. On the lip of
the bell were engraven characters unknown to every one else, but which
seemed to affect the prelate with singular consternation.

"I hope," he exclaimed, "that none of you know anything about these
characters! I earnestly trust that none can read a single one of them. If I
thought anybody could I would burn him as soon as look at him!"

The bystanders hastened to assure him that not one of them had the
slightest conception of the meaning of the letters, which had never been
observed before.

"I rejoice to hear it," said the bishop. "It will be an evil day for the
church when these letters are understood."

And next morning he departed, carrying off the bell, with the invisible
fiend inside it; the cards, which were regarded as a book of magic; and the
luckless Euschemon, who shortly found himself in total darkness, the inmate
of a dismal dungeon.

It was some time before Euschemon became sensible of the presence of any
partner in his captivity, by reason of the trotting of the rats. At length,
however, a deep sigh struck upon his ear.

"Who art thou?" he exclaimed.

"An unfortunate prisoner," was the answer.

"What is the occasion of thy imprisonment?"

"Oh, a mere trifle. A ridiculous suspicion of sacrificing a child to
Beelzebub. One of the little disagreeables that must occasionally occur in
our profession."

"_Our_ profession!" exclaimed Euschemon.

"Art thou not a sorcerer?" demanded the voice.

"No," replied Euschemon, "I am a saint."

The warlock received Euschemon's statement with much incredulity, but
becoming eventually convinced of its truth--

"I congratulate thee," he said. "The devil has manifestly taken a fancy to
thee, and he never forgets his own. It is true that the bishop is a great
favourite with him also. But we will hope for the best. Thou hast never
practised riding a broomstick? No? 'Tis pity; thou mayest have to mount one
at a moment's notice."

This consolation had scarcely been administered ere the bolts flew back,
the hinges grated, the door opened, and gaolers bearing torches informed
the sorcerer that the bishop desired his presence.

He found the bishop in his study, which wa