foot-pounds to the square millimetre, under violet rays. This will be
known as 'Your Mixture,' Number 56785-6/11, and will be supplied to no
one else on earth, except under penalty of death.

"I will take a ton," said Jackson with glazing eyes.

This was a man after the priest's own heart. He took another deep breath
and dived into the strong-room. He returned under the escort of ten
armed men, each of them chained by the wrist to an iron box, which he
unlocked with difficulty. Inside the iron box was a thing which Jackson
a few months ago would have called a pipe. He knew better now. In awful
silence the priest lifted it from its satin bed. "This," he whispered,
"was once smoked by Brownhill himself."

Jackson put out a hand to take it. The priest hesitated, then laid it
gently on his customer's palm.

And Jackson dropped it.

Jackson has never been heard of since.

* * * * *

THE FAIRIES HAVE NEVER A PENNY TO SPEND.

The fairies have never a penny to spend,
They haven't a thing put by,
But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower,
And theirs are the earth and the sky.
And though you should live in a palace of gold