of letter-box on the counter. I pushed my paper in
the slot, hoping the etiquette of the thing was all right now; and, as
apparently it was, in his own good time he took the paper from the back
of the box, looked at it, glanced sternly at me, looked at the paper
again, and said severely:

"_Vee--ta--hay--ad?_"

I didn't know what he was driving at till I remembered my name was
Whitehead. So I replied, "_Ja_," thinking his pronunciation not bad for
the first shot. He turned to a pigeon-hole and laid a small square
parcel on the counter addressed to me in Cecil's scrawl. I held out my
hand, but he ignored it, and, picking up a fearsome-looking instrument
consisting of blades, hooks and points--which turned out to be the
official cutter--severed the silly little bit of string, unwrapped the
paper and disclosed a white wooden box with a sliding lid.

I bent forward, but he glared at me and moved it further away, slid back
the lid, removed some shavings and looked inside. His official manner
underwent a change; such a look of sudden human interest showed on his
fat clammy face that I thought he must have found some quite new kind of
sausage. But instead he drew out very gingerly a curious square black
box with a sloping front, two round holes at one side, and a handle at
the other. He put it down on the counter and glared at me.

"_Was ist das?_" he demanded.

"_Ich weiss nicht_," I replied, shaking my head.

It was clear he didn't believe me, and he kept it out of my reach,
turning it carefully about, and in response to a jerk of his chin two or
three of his colleagues came up and glared, first, at me, and than at
the suspicious object. However, he would not let them touch it, but,
squaring his chin and taking a deep breath, he turned the handle.

There was a faint ticking noise, but nothing happened, and I suggested
timidly that he should look through the peep-holes and see what was
going on inside. He frowned at my interference, but taking my advice all
the same, raised the box nearer his fierce eye and turned the handle
once more and with greater force. Instantly there was a loud whirr, and
a bright green trick-serpent leapt through the lid, caught him full on
the nose and sent him back sprawling among his packing cases, carrying
two of his friends with him.

I gave a bit of a squeak, but it was lost among the "_Ach Gotts_" and
"_Himmels_" all round me. Cecil in his wildest dreams had never hoped
for this. What