rom his throne--which fell behind him with a
crash--and strove to follow.

But the yellow cap of stifling smoke came down upon him and shut him
in. He sank downwards, choking and gasping; and he heard, ringing
through the heated air, a sound of laughter that reminded him of
Silvia.

CHAPTER IX.

ON THE STAGE.

Yellow-cap opened his eyes, which felt dry and hot. It was indeed
Silvia, who was laughing, and bidding him wake up, for it was past
eight o'clock in the morning. And where had Yellow-cap passed the
night? Underneath the table in the inn parlour, where that
extraordinary meeting of the Seven Brethren had taken place. As
Yellow-cap got slowly to his feet he pressed both hands to his head,
which felt like a newly-roasted chestnut, with the kernel loose
inside; but the yellow cap was still fast about his brows. He longed
to take it off and put his head under the pump; but that luxury, he
knew, was now and hereafter forbidden him.

'Where are the other fellows?' he asked, turning to Silvia. 'They
jumped through the fiery eye----'

'Through what, your Lordship?' cried Silvia, opening her eyes very
wide.

'Through that,' said Yellow-cap, pointing to the end of the room where
the mysterious mirror hung. But, to his great perplexity, there was to
be seen there only a very common-place old looking-glass, made in
three compartments, and mounted in a tarnished frame. In the light of
the morning sun, which was pouring through the dusty window-panes, it
looked not at all like an eye, and it was absurd to suppose that
anybody could have jumped through it.

'Things always look so different in the morning,' remarked Silvia
good-humouredly. 'But, if it please your Lordship, I am sent by the
Brethren to say that they are waiting for you in the front room.'

Yellow-cap felt not at all in the mood to lead a conspiracy; but still
he tried to put a good face upon the matter. 'Lead on!' said he; and
Silvia opened the door and went before him across a small enclosed
yard to another door, on which she tapped; and Yellow-cap, passing in,
found himself once more in the presence of his six friends. They were
eating devilled bones, and were dressed in long white dominoes. Each
had a playbook beside his plate, and they were apparently studying
their parts for the morning performance.

'Good morning! Fine day for the deposition,' said Gyp, acting as
spokesman for the rest. 'Have a bone?'

'I have no appetite,' replied Ye