somewhat less ill at ease, now he had got his message out,
shifted his feet and gave a short laugh.

"Oh no, thank you, sir. You see, I don't really need it, and Jakey
does. It wouldn't be fair for me to take it if Jakey has a chance."

He looked away, and saw that the light from the distant hidden room
was jumping and flickering on the shadowed walls. He guessed there
must be a lively fire in that room beyond.

"Of course," Chris added anxiously, "I don't know what the job is. You
don't say, on the sign, and Jakey isn't awfully well. He has a twisted
foot and it makes him slow in walking. Would that interfere with
Jakey's getting the job, sir?" Chris enquired.

The reply was slow in coming, and Chris heard as if the words had been
spoken, not before him, where the black outlined figure still stood,
but as if at his very ear. Soft but clear, the words sounded.

"It would not interfere, Christopher my boy. But now that you are
here, you must make the test. Jakey will be cared for, never fear."

Almost as in a dream, Chris felt an atmosphere drenching him as though
a powerful scent filled the air. His head swam a little, and he
realized that it was a long time since he had had lunch. He thought he
detected a pleasant smell of herbs, like the potpourri his mother had
in bowls in their house. The sharp black outline of Mr. Wicker
impressed itself on his eyeballs, and in the room, now totally dark
except for the light that streamed from the faraway open door, Mr.
Wicker's body seemed to radiate a bright edge, like a carbon paper
held up to the sun. The voice at his ear once more filled his head and
his hearing.

"_You_ will make the test, my boy. Now. Just turn around, and tell me
what you see out my window."

[Illustration]

Chris, in spite of the strangeness rising about him like a mist,
remembered very well what lay outside the window. But even as he
slowly turned, the thought pierced his mind, Why had he not seen the
reflection of the headlights of the cars moving up around the corner
of Water Street and up the hill toward the traffic signals? And why
had the sound of wheels, of gears and of horns, been so completely
muffled out? The room seemed overly still.

Then, in that second, he turned and faced about. The wide bow window
was there before him, the three objects he liked best showing frosty
in the moonlight that poured in from across the water.

Across the water! Where was the freeway? It was no longer