We had found no difficulty in opening the first drawer within the iron safe; we found great difficulty in opening the second:  it was not locked, but it resisted all efforts, till we inserted in the clinks the edge of a chisel.  When we had thus drawn it forth we found a very singular apparatus in the nicest order.  Upon a small thin book, or rather tablet, was placed a saucer of crystal:  this saucer was filled with a clear liquid—­on that liquid floated a kind of compass, with a needle shifting rapidly round; but instead of the usual points of a compass were seven strange characters, not very unlike those used by astrologers to denote the planets.

A peculiar, but not strong nor displeasing odor came from this drawer, which was lined with a wood that we afterwards discovered to be hazel.  Whatever the cause of this odor, it produced a material effect on the nerves.  We all felt it, even the two workmen who were in the room—­a creeping tingling sensation from the tips of the fingers to the roots of the hair.  Impatient to examine the tablet, I removed the saucer.  As I did so the needle of the compass went round and round with exceeding swiftness, and I felt a shock that ran through my whole frame, so that I dropped the saucer on the floor.  The liquid was spilt—­the saucer was broken—­the compass rolled to the end of the room—­and at that instant the walls shook to and fro, as if a giant had swayed and rocked them.

The two workmen were so frightened that they ran up the ladder by which we had descended from the trap-door; but seeing that nothing more happened, they were easily induced to return.

Meanwhile I had opened the tablet:  it was bound in plain red leather, with a silver clasp; it contained but one sheet of thick vellum, and on that sheet were inscribed within a double pentacle, words in old monkish Latin, which are literally to be translated thus:  “On all that it can reach within these walls—­sentient or inanimate, living or dead—­as moves the needle, so work my will!  Accursed be the house, and restless be the dwellers therein.”

We found no more.  Mr. J——­ burnt the tablet and its anathema.  He razed to the foundations the part of the building containing the secret room with the chamber over it.  He had then the courage to inhabit the house himself for a month, and a quieter, better-conditioned house could not be found in all London.  Subsequently he let it to advantage, and his tenant has made no complaints.

THE SILENT WOMAN[D]

BY LEOPOLD KOMPERT

The uproarious merriment of a wedding-feast burst forth into the night from a brilliantly lighted house in the “gasse” (narrow street).  It was one of those nights touched with the warmth of spring, but dark and full of soft mist.  Most fitting it was for a celebration of the union of two yearning hearts to share the same lot, a lot that may possibly dawn in sunny brightness, but also become