“What is it, that you disturb me at such an hour?” she asked sharply.

“What is it?  What isn’t it?” Adrian replied, his rage rising at the thought of his injuries.  “That cursed philtre of yours has worked all wrong, that’s what it is.  Another man has got the benefit of it, don’t you understand, you old hag?  And, by Heaven!  I believe he means to abduct her, yes, that’s the meaning of all the packing and fuss, blind fool that I was not to guess it before.  The Master—­I will see the Master.  He must give me an antidote, another medicine——­”

“You certainly look as though you want it,” interrupted Black Meg drily.  “Well, I doubt whether you can see him; it is not his hour for receiving visitors; moreover, I don’t think he’s here, so I shall have to signal for him.”

“I must see him.  I will see him,” shouted Adrian.

“I daresay,” replied Black Meg, squinting significantly at his pocket.

Enraged as he was Adrian took the hint.

“Woman, you seek gold,” he said, quoting involuntarily from the last romance he had read, and presenting her with a handful of small silver, which was all he had.

Meg took the silver with a sniff, on the principle that something is better than nothing, and departed gloomily.  Then followed more mysterious noises; voices whispered, doors opened and shut, furniture creaked, after which came a period of exasperating and rather disagreeable silence.  Adrian turned his face to the wall, for the only window in the room was so far above his head that he was unable to look out of it; indeed, it was more of a skylight than a window.  Thus he remained a while gnawing at the ends of his moustache and cursing his fortune, till presently he felt a hand upon his shoulder.

“Who the devil is that?” he exclaimed, wheeling round to find himself face to face with the draped and majestic form of the Master.

“The devil!  That is an ill word upon young lips, my friend,” said the sage, shaking his head in reproof.

“I daresay,” replied Adrian, “but what the—­I mean how did you get here?  I never heard the door open.”

“How did I get here?  Well, now you mention it, I wonder how I did.  The door—­what have I to do with doors?”

“I am sure I don’t know,” answered Adrian shortly, “but most people find them useful.”

“Enough of such material talk,” interrupted the sage with sternness.  “Your spirit cried to mine, and I am here, let that suffice.”

“I suppose that Black Meg fetched you,” went on Adrian, sticking to his point, for the philtre fiasco had made him suspicious.

“Verily, friend Adrian, you can suppose what you will; and now, as I have little time to spare, be so good as to set out the matter.  Nay, what need, I know all, for have I not—­is this the case?  You administered the philtre to the maid and neglected my instructions to offer yourself to her at once.  Another saw it and took advantage of the magic draught.  While the spell was on her he proposed, he was accepted—­yes, your brother Foy.  Oh! fool, careless fool, what else did you expect?”