explains somewhat. Still, I think we have done a fair
morning's work. We've seen that our man is alive."

"But do you think there is any hope of finding him?"

"I'm sure there is, only be patient."

"But what must I do?"

"Well, take this man to see some of the sights of London until three
o'clock, then come home to dinner. After dinner he'll be sleepy. Let him
sleep, if he will, until nine o'clock; then bring him here again; but
let him have no supper until after I have done with him."

"Nine o'clock to-night! Why, do you know, that takes away another day?
There will only want eight clear days to Christmas Eve."

"I can't help that, sir," said the little professor, testily; "you
should have come before. But that is the way. Our science, which is
really the queen of sciences, is disregarded; only one here and there
comes to us, and then we are treated as no other scientific man would be
treated. Never mind, our day will come. One day all the sciences shall
bow the knee to us, for we are the real interpreters of the mysteries of
nature."

I apologized for my impatience, which he gravely accepted, and then woke
Simon from his sleep.

"Where am I?" cried Simon. "Where've I been?"

"I can't tell," said the professor; "I wish I could, for then our work
would be accomplished."

"Have you bin a-waccinatin' me?" said Simon.

The little man looked to me for explanation.

"He calls everything mysterious by that name," I said.

"'Cause," continued Simon, "I thought as how you waccinators, or
mesmerists, made passes, as they call 'em, and waved your hands about,
and like that."

"Did that Mr. Voltaire, I think you call him, make passes?" asked the
professor.

"He!" said Simon. "He ain't no ordinary man. He's got dealin's with old
Nick, he hev. He didn't come near me, nor touch me, and I wur sleepin'
afore I could think of my grandmother."

"Just so; he is no ordinary man. He's a real student of psychology, he
is. He has gone beyond the elements of our profession. I despise the
foolish things which these quacks of mesmerism make Billy people do in
order to please a gaping-mouthed audience. It is true I call myself a
professor of mesmerism and clairvoyance, but it would be more correct to
call me a practical psychologist. You'll attend to my wishes with
regard to our friend, won't you? Good-morning."

I will not try to describe how I passed the day. It would be wearisome
to the reader to tell him how often I lo