at the fire,
and to bring it up again from his vitals. Then, to some wild music from
a fiddler, he bound coils of the flaming stuff about his head; and, the
lamps being lowered, he gave us a weird picture of a man dancing, all
circled with flame; working himself up until I recalled pictures of the
dervishes I had seen in the old quarter of Cairo. It was an
extraordinary exhibition, and it pleased the men about so that they
roared with delight. I was watching it at last as intent as they were;
but my attention was suddenly diverted by the sense that something
under the marble table at which I was sitting was pulling at my leg. I
looked down quickly, and saw a strange sight: it was the black face of
the lad Splinters, who had been treated so brutally in Paris. He,
crouching under the table, was making signs to me, earnest, meaning
signs, so that without any betrayal I leant my head down as though upon
my hands, and spoke to him--

"What is it, lad?" I asked in a whisper. "What do you want to say?"

"Don't stop here, sir!" he answered in a state of great agitation.
"They know you, and are going to kill you!"

He said no more, crawling away at once; but he left me hot with fear.
The mad dance was still going on, and the room was quite dark save for
the glow cast by the spirit flames about the huge negro. It occurred to
me at once that the darkness might save me if only I could reach the
door unobserved; and I left my seat, and pushed amongst the men,
passing nearer and nearer to the street, until at last I was at the
very portal itself. Then I saw that a change had been made while I had
been sitting. The doors of glass were wide open, but the way to the
street without was no longer clear--an iron curtain had been drawn
across the entrance, and a hundred men could not have forced it.

This was a terrible discovery. It seemed to me that the iron door had
been closed for an especial purpose. I knew, however, that when the
dance was over some of the audience would wish to go out, and so I
waited by the curtain until the lamps were turned up, and the negro had
disappeared. The men were then about to push their tables to the centre
again, but the hag raised her voice and cried--

"As you are, my pretty gentleman; it's only the first part ye've been
treated to. No, no; ye don't have the door drawn till ye've seen yer
mother dance awhile. Good boys, all of ye, there's work to do; ho! ho!
work to do, and Mother Catch will do it