"I think I have it," said Mr. Satan, "a wit: Dr. Johnson, Sheridan,
Sidney Smith?"

"We should probably find their jokes dull _now_," said Mrs. Bergmann,
thoughtfully.

"Miscellaneous?" inquired Mr. Satan, and turning over several leaves of
his notebook, he rattled out the following names: "Alcibiades, kind
of statesman; Beau Brummel, fop; Cagliostro, conjurer; Robespierre,
politician; Charles Stuart, Pretender; Warwick, King-maker; Borgia, A.,
Pope; Ditto, C., toxicologist; Wallenstein, mercenary; Bacon, Roger,
man of science; Ditto, F., dishonest official; Tell, W., patriot; Jones,
Paul, pirate; Lucullus, glutton; Simon Stylites, eccentric; Casanova,
loose liver; Casabianca, cabin-boy; Chicot, jester; Sayers, T.,
prize-fighter; Cook, Captain, tourist; Nebuchadnezzar, food-faddist;
Juan, D., lover; Froissart, war correspondent; Julian, apostate?"

"Don't you see," said Mrs. Bergmann, "we must have some one everybody
has heard of?"

"David Garrick, actor and wit?" suggested Mr. Satan.

"It's no good having an actor nobody has seen act," said Mrs. Bergmann.

"What about a poet?" asked Mr. Satan, "Homer, Virgil, Dante, Byron,
Shakespeare?"

"Shakespeare!" she cried out, "the very thing. Everybody has heard of
Shakespeare, more or less, and I expect he'd get on with everybody, and
wouldn't feel offended if I asked Alfred Austin or some other poet to
meet him. Can you get me Shakespeare?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Satan, "day and date?"

"It must be Thursday fortnight," said Mrs. Bergmann. "And what,
ah--er--your terms?"

"The usual terms," he answered. "In return for supernatural service
rendered you during your lifetime, your soul reverts to me at your
death."

Mrs. Bergmann's brain began to work quickly. She was above all things a
practical woman, and she immediately felt she was being defrauded.

"I cannot consent to such terms," she said. "Surely you recognise the
fundamental difference between this proposed contract and those which
you concluded with others--with Faust, for instance? They sold the full
control of their soul after death on condition of your putting yourself
at their entire disposal during the whole of their lifetime, whereas
you ask me to do the same thing in return for a few hours' service. The
proposal is preposterous."

Mr. Satan rose from his chair. "In that case, madam," he said, "I have
the honour to wish you a good afternoon."

"Stop a moment," said Mrs. Bergmann, "I don't see