suffering such a monster to live. The monster, however, sat in the midst
of the stalwart cordage of his web, right over the doctor's head; and he
looked, with all those complicated lines, like the symbol of a conjurer or
crafty politician in the midst of the complexity of his scheme; and
Septimius wondered if he were not the type of Dr. Portsoaken himself, who,
fat and bloated as the spider, seemed to be the centre of some dark
contrivance. And could it be that poor Septimius was typified by the
fascinated fly, doomed to be entangled by the web?

"Good day to you," said the gruff doctor, taking his pipe from his mouth.
"Here I am, with my brother spiders, in the midst of my web. I told you,
you remember, the wonderful efficacy which I had discovered in spiders'
webs; and this is my laboratory, where I have hundreds of workmen
concocting my panacea for me. Is it not a lovely sight?"

"A wonderful one, at least," said Septimius. "That one above your head, the
monster, is calculated to give a very favorable idea of your theory. What
a quantity of poison there must be in him!"

"Poison, do you call it?" quoth the grim doctor. "That's entirely as it may
be used. Doubtless his bite would send a man to kingdom come; but, on the
other hand, no one need want a better life-line than that fellow's web. He
and I are firm friends, and I believe he would know my enemies by
instinct. But come, sit down, and take a glass of brandy. No? Well, I'll
drink it for you. And how is the old aunt yonder, with her infernal
nostrum, the bitterness and nauseousness of which my poor stomach has not
yet forgotten?"

"My Aunt Keziah is no more," said Septimius.