? What
you have said just now gives me furiously to hope.'

Soames had not moved, except to light a fresh cigarette. He sat crouched
forward, with his elbows squared on the table, and his head just above
the level of his hands, staring up at the Devil. 'Go on,' he nodded. I
had no remnant of laughter in me now.

'It will be the more pleasant, our little deal,' the Devil went on,
'because you are--I mistake not?--a Diabolist.'

'A Catholic Diabolist,' said Soames.

The Devil accepted the reservation genially. 'You wish,' he resumed, 'to
visit now--this afternoon as-ever-is--the reading-room of the British
Museum, yes? but of a hundred years hence, yes? Parfaitement. Time--an
illusion. Past and future--they are as ever-present as the present, or
at any rate only what you call "just-round-the-corner." I switch you
on to any date. I project you--pouf! You wish to be in the reading-room
just as it will be on the afternoon of June 3, 1997? You wish to find
yourself standing in that room, just past the swing-doors, this very
minute, yes? and to stay there till closing time? Am I right?'

Soames nodded.

The Devil looked at his watch. 'Ten past two,' he said. 'Closing time in
summer same then as now: seven o'clock. That will give you almost five
hours. At seven o'clock--pouf!--you find yourself again here, sitting
at this table. I am dining to-night dans le monde--dans le higlif. That
concludes my present visit to your great city. I come and fetch you
here, Mr. Soames, on my way home.'

'Home?' I echoed.

'Be it never so humble!' said the Devil lightly.

'All right,' said Soames.

'Soames!' I entreated. But my friend moved not a muscle.

The Devil had made as though to stretch forth his hand across the table
and touch Soames' forearm; but he paused in his gesture.

'A hundred years hence, as now,' he smiled, 'no smoking allowed in the
reading-room. You would better therefore----'

Soames removed the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it into his
glass of Sauterne.

'Soames!' again I cried. 'Can't you'--but the Devil had now stretched
forth his hand across the table. He brought it slowly down on--the
tablecloth. Soames' chair was empty. His cigarette floated sodden in his
wine-glass. There was no other trace of him.

For a few moments the Devil let his hand rest where it lay, gazing at me
out of the corners of his eyes, vulgarly triumphant.

A shudder shook me. With an effort I controlled myself and rose fr