These fancy bits were generally scenes of action in which the Night-
Wind either dropped or rose unexpectedly. He used the children as a
standard. "Thank you very much, Uncle," meant failure, the imagination
was not touched; but questions were an indication of success, the
audience wanted further details. For he knew it was the child in his
audience that enjoyed such scenes, and if Tim and Judy felt no
interest, neither would Mr. and Mrs. William Smith of Peckham. To
squeeze a question out of Maria raised hopes of a second edition!
A Duke, disguised as a woman or priest, landing at night; a dark man
stealing documents from a tapestried chamber of some castle, where
bats and cobwebs shared the draughty corridors--such scenes were
incomplete unless a Night-Wind came in audibly at critical moments. It
wailed, moaned, whistled, cried, sang, sighed, soughed or--sobbed.
Keyholes and chimneys were its favourite places, but trees and rafters
knew it too. The sea, of course, also played a large part in these
adventures, for water above all was the element Uncle Felix loved and
understood, but this Night-Wind, being born at sea, was also of
distinct importance.
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