Just then a murmur of exclamations came from Mrs. Ellis and Esther, whom the superintendent was piloting through the shops.  “Oh, no, it is too heavy; oh, don’t do it, Mr. Cardigan!” “Oh, we can see it perfectly well from here!  PLEASE don’t, you will break yourself somewhere!” Mrs. Ellis shrieked this; but the shrieks turned to a murmur of admiration as a huge carved sideboard came bobbing and wobbling, like an intoxicated piece of furniture in a haunted house, toward the two gentlewomen.  Immediately, a short but powerfully built man, whose red face beamed above his dusty shoulders like a full moon with a mustache, emerged, and waved his hand at the sideboard.

“I could tackle the two of them, begging your pardon, ladies.”

“That’s Cardigan,” explained Harry, “Miss Armorer may have told you about him.  Oh, SHUEY!”

Cardigan approached and was presented.  He brought both his heels together and bowed solemnly, bending his head at the same time.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Shuey.  Then he assumed an attitude of military attention.

“Take us up in the elevator, will you, Shuey?” said Harry.  “Step in, Mr. Armorer, please, we will go and see the reproductions of the antique; we have a room upstairs.”

Mr. Armorer stepped in, Shuey following; and then, before Harry could enter it, the elevator shot upward and—­stuck!

“What’s the matter?” cried Armorer.

Shuey was tugging at the wire rope.  He called, in tones that seemed to come from a panting chest:  “Take a pull at it yourself, sir!  Can you move it?”

Armorer grasped the rope viciously; Shuey was on the seat pulling from above.  “We’re stuck, sir, fast!”

“Can’t you get down either?”

“Divil a bit, saving your presence, sir.  Do ye think like the water-works could be busted?”

“Can’t you make somebody hear?” panted Armorer.

“Well, you see there’s a deal of noise of the machinery,” said Shuey, scratching his chin with a thoughtful air, “and they expect we’ve gone up!”

“Best try, anyhow.  This infernal machine may take a notion to drop!” said Armorer.

“And that’s true, too,” acquiesced Shuey.  Forthwith he did lift up his voice in a loud wailing:  “OH—­H, Jimmy!  OH—­H, Jimmy Ryan!”

Jimmy might have been in Chicago for any response he made; though Armorer shouted with Shuey; and at every pause the whir of the machinery mocked the shouters.  Indescribable moans and gurgles, with a continuous malignant hiss, floated up to them from the rebel steam below, as from a volcano considering eruption.  “They’ll be bound to need the elevator some time, if they don’t need US, and that’s one comfort!” said Shuey, philosophically.

“Don’t you think if we pulled on her we could get her up to the next floor, by degrees?  Now then!”

Armorer gave a dash and Shuey let out his muscles in a giant tug.  The elevator responded by an astonishing leap that carried them past three or four floors!