“You see, it’s this way,” he went on hastily, seeing, I suppose, that I looked somewhat surprised at this unexpected piece of information.  “Some hundreds of years ago—­oh! ever so many—­long before the present Japanese Empire was founded, in fact, there was a man named Shin Shira Scaramanga Manousa Yama Hawa——­”

“Good gracious!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t interrupt,” said the little Yellow Dwarf, “it’s rude, and besides, you make me forget—­I can’t even think now what the rest of the gentleman’s name was—­but anyhow, he was an ancestor of mine, and that much of his name belongs to me.”

“How much?” I inquired.

“Shin Shira Scaramanga Manousa Yama Hawa,” repeated the Yellow Dwarf; “but you needn’t say it all,” he added hastily, seeing, I suppose, that I looked rather distressed, “Shin Shira will do; in fact, that’s what I am always called.  Well, to continue.  This ancestor of mine, part of whose name I bear, did something or other to offend his great-grandmother, who was a very influential sort of a fairy—­I could tell you the whole story, but it’s a very long one and I’ll have to tell you that another time—­and she was so angry with him that she condemned him to appear or disappear whenever she liked and at whatever time or place that she chose, for ever.”

“For ever?” I inquired incredulously.

“Why not?” asked Shin Shira.  “Fairies, you know, are immortal, and my ancestor had fairy blood in his veins.  Well, to make a long story short, the spell, or whatever you choose to call it, which his great-grandmother cast over him, didn’t work in him, nor in his son, nor even in his grandson; but several hundreds of years afterwards I was born, and then it suddenly took effect, and I have always been afflicted with the exceedingly uncomfortable misfortune of having to appear or disappear whenever the old lady likes, and in whatever place she chooses.

“It’s terribly awkward at times, for one minute I may be in China taking tea with a Mandarin of the Blue Button, and have to disappear suddenly, turning up a minute later in a first-class carriage on the Underground Railway, greatly to the surprise and indignation of the passengers, especially if it happens to be over-crowded without me, as it very often is.

“Not but what it has its advantages too,” he added thoughtfully, “and this very power of being able to disappear suddenly has just got me out of a most serious dilemma.”

“Won’t you tell me about it?” I inquired with considerable curiosity, for I was beginning to be very interested in this singular little person’s account of himself.

“With pleasure,” said Shin Shira; and settling himself more comfortably in “the Toad,” resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, and placing the tips of his fingers together, he told me the following story.

“The very last place in which I appeared before turning up here, was in the grounds of the Palace belonging to the Grand Panjandrum—­”