I'm Cleek, the detective--at your service once more.

Now, then, let's have the new strange case on which you called me here.

What's it all about ?" "Necromancy--wizardry--fairy-lore--all the stuff and nonsense that goes to the making of 'The Arabian Nights'!" said Narkom, waxing excited as his thoughts were thus shoved back to the amazing affair he had in hand.
"All your 'Red Crawls' and your 'Sacred Sons' and your 'Nine-fingered Skeletons' are fools to it for wonder and mystery.

Talk about witchcraft! Talk about wizards and giants and enchanters and the things that witches did in the days of Macbeth! God bless my soul, they're nothing to it.

Those were the days of magic, anyhow, so you can take it or leave it, as you like; but this--look here, Cleek, you've heard of a good many queer things and run foul of a good many mysteries, I'll admit, but did you ever--in this twentieth century, when witchcraft and black magic are supposed to be as dead as Queen Anne--did you ever, my dear fellow, hear of such a marvel as a man putting on a blue leather belt that was said to have the power of rendering the wearer invisible and then forthwith melting into thin air and floating off like a cloud of pipe smoke ?" "Gammon!" "Gammon nothing! Facts!" "Facts?
You're off your head, man.