junction not to let the leaden plug bearing Solomon's seal be
removed from the mouth, he placed the gift in his pocket and having
thanked the emir for his entertainment and instruction and the gift,
he departed.

When Mr. Middleton had stepped into the street, he altered his
resolution to immediately dispose of the bottle. He was tired and did
not care to walk to the river. Nor did he wish to ride there and
alight, spending two car fares to get home. So postponing until the
morrow the casting into the Chicago River of the unhappy genii who had
once reposed on the bottom of the Persian Gulf, he boarded a car for
home.

The bulk and weight of the bottle sagging down his pocket and
threatening to injure the set of his coat, Mr. Middleton held his
acquisition on his knee. A tall, serious-looking individual was his
seat mate, who after regarding the bottle intently for some time,
addressed him in a low, but earnest voice.

"Pray pardon my curiosity, but I am going to ask you what that queer
receptacle is."

"It is the prison-house of a wicked genii, who was shut therein by
King Solomon, the magic influence of whose seal on the plug in the
mouth retains him within, for what resistance could the physical force
of those copper walls oppose to the strength of that mighty demon?"

Of these words did Mr. Middleton deliver himself, though he knew they
must sound passing strange, but on the spur of the moment he could not
think what else to say and he hoped that the belief he would create
that his mind was affected would relieve him of further questioning,
for if put to it and pinned down, what could he say, what plausible
account could he give of the bottle? To his surprise, the stranger
gave no evidence of other than a complete acceptance of his statement
and continuing to make inquiries in a most respectful and courteous
way, Mr. Middleton felt he could not be less mannerly himself, and so
he related all he knew of the bottle, avowing his belief that it
contained some dangerous chemical, such as that devilish corroding
stuff known as Greek fire, or some deadly gas.

"Your theory sounds reasonable," said the stranger; "and yet who
knows? That inscription certainly is Hebrew. At least, it is neither
English nor German. When one has studied psychic phenomena as long as
I have, he comes to a point where he is very chary of saying what is
not credible. Do I not, time and again, materialize the dead, calling
from the winds, the