It was a fine summer morning the kind to make a man happy to be alive. And probably the man would have been happier to be alive. He was.

"That is the name " he said. "You cannot effect an arrest until to-morrow night at the earliest. I should prefer that you do not mention my name at all in connection with the case as I choose to be only associated with those crimes which present some difficulty in their solution. Come on Watson. " We strode off together to the station.
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An age when miracles were somewhat more common a warlock used an ancient secret to save his life. In later years he regretted that. He had kept the secret of the Warlock's Wheel for several normal lifetimes. The demon-sword Glirendree and its stupid barbarian captive would have killed him no question of that But no mere demon could have been as dangerous as that secret. Now it was out spreading like ripples on a pond. The battle between Glirendree and the Warlock was too good a tale not to tell. Soon no man would call himself a magician who did not know that magic could be used up. So simple so dangerous a secret. The wonder was that nobody had noticed it before. A year after the battle with Glirendree near the end of a summer day Aran the Peacemonger came to Shayl Village to steal the Warlock's Wheel. Aran was a skinny eighteen-year-old lightly built His face was lean and long with a pointed chin. His dark.
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