Fearful was the dilemma; but Gregory durst not budge.

The night grew dark and stormy, the wind rose, loud gusts shaking down the dying leaves, and howling through the wide extent of the forest.  The moan of the river came on like the agony of some tortured spirit.  The sound seemed to creep closer to his ear; and Gregory thought some evil thing was haunting him for intruding into these unhallowed mysteries.

He was horribly alarmed at the idea of another visit to the cave, but he durst not disobey.  He now heard a rustling in the bushes by the cavern’s mouth.  He saw, or fancied he saw, something rise therefrom and suddenly disappear.  It was the demon, doubtless, retiring with his prey.  He scarcely dared to breathe lest the hobgoblin should observe and seize him likewise.  But his presence was unnoticed.  He, however, thought that the blast grew louder, and a moan more melancholy and appalling arose from the river.  Again Oliver Tempest was at his side.

“Take this, and do thy bidding.”  He thrust the billet into his hand, which the unfortunate recipient might not refuse.

Trembling in every limb, he approached the place of concealment; but he was too wary now to let go his hold of the fallen trunk.

He whistled thrice, and the ground again seemed to give way.  A light glared from beneath, and he cautiously descended the pit.

The grim porter was waiting for him below.  He fell as though rushing into the very jaws of the monster, who was but whetting his tusks ere he should devour him.

“Here again!” croaked the ugly dwarf; “what brings thy long legs back from Christendom?”

“I know not, master; but if you are i’ the humour to read, I’ve a scrap in my pouch at your high mightiness’ service.”

Gregory paid more deference to him now than aforetime, having conceived a most profound respect for his attributes, both physical and mental, since his former visit.

“He is himself either some wondrous enchanter,” thought he, “or, at any rate, minister or familiar to some mighty wizard, who hath his dwelling-place in this subterraneous abode.”

“I have a message here to my lord,” said he aloud, handing him the billet at arm’s length, with a mighty show of deference and respect.  The uncourteous dwarf took the writing, and left Gregory in darkness again to await his return.  He shook at every joint, while the minutes seemed an age.  Again the light flickered on the damp walls, and the mysterious being approached.  He addressed the envoy with his usual grin of contempt.

“Tell the lady, my master be glad.  He will leap from his prison by to-morrow, as she say, and appear at dinner.”

“The dickons he will,” said Gregory, as he clambered up the ascent, not without imminent jeopardy, so anxious was he to escape.

“This is a fearful message to master,” thought he, as he leapt out joyfully into the buoyant air:  “but at any rate I’ll now be quit o’ the job.”  And the messenger gave his report, for Oliver Tempest was impatiently awaiting his return.