all mine heart--it is just one thing to me--and now it is de
time--hold you de sword till I kindle de little what you call chip."

Dousterswivel accordingly set fire to a little pile of chips, touched
and prepared with some bituminous substance to make them burn fiercely;
and when the flame was at the highest, and lightened, with its
shortlived glare, all the ruins around, the German flung in a handful of
perfumes which produced a strong and pungent odour. The exorcist and his
pupil both were so much affected as to cough and sneeze heartily; and,
as the vapour floated around the pillars of the building, and penetrated
every crevice, it produced the same effect on the beggar and Lovel.

"Was that an echo?" said the Baronet, astonished at the sternutation
which resounded from above; "or"--drawing close to the adept, "can it
be the spirit you talked of, ridiculing our attempt upon his hidden
treasures?"

"N--n--no," muttered the German, who began to partake of his pupil's
terrors, "I hope not."

Here a violent of sneezing, which the mendicant was unable to suppress,
and which could not be considered by any means as the dying fall of an
echo, accompanied by a grunting half-smothered cough, confounded the two
treasure-seekers. "Lord have mercy on us!" said the Baronet.

"Alle guten Geistern loben den Herrn!" ejaculated the terrified adept.
"I was begun to think," he continued, after a moment's silence, "that
this would be de bestermost done in de day-light--we was bestermost to go
away just now."

"You juggling villain!" said the Baronet, in whom these expressions
awakened a suspicion that overcame his terrors, connected as it was
with the sense of desperation arising from the apprehension of impending
ruin--"you juggling mountebank! this is some legerdemain trick of yours
to get off from the performance of your promise, as you have so often
done before. But, before Heaven! I will this night know what I have
trusted to when I suffered you to fool me on to my ruin! Go on,
then--come fairy, come fiend, you shall show me that treasure, or confess
yourself a knave and an impostor, or, by the faith of a desperate and
ruined man, I'll send you where you shall see spirits enough."

The treasure-finder, trembling between his terror for the supernatural
beings by whom he supposed himself to be surrounded, and for his life,
which seemed to be at the mercy of a desperate man, could only bring
out, "Mine patron, this is not the