dreamt of in thy philosophy, Horatio."

Mr. Y. arranged a fresh glass for himself, and answered:

"I believe it. I believe also that it is given but to a few chosen
ones to see these things. It never fell to my lot, I know. Fortunately
for me, perhaps. For,--at least so it appears to me,--these chosen
ones appear on closer investigation to be individuals of an abnormal
condition of brain. As far as I personally am concerned, I know of
nothing more strange than the usual logical and natural sequence of
events on our globe. I confess things do sometimes happen outside of
this orderly sequence; but for the cold-blooded and thoughtful person
the Strange, the apparently Inexplicable, usually turns out to be a
sum of Chance, that Chance we will never be quite clever enough to
fully take into our calculations.

"As an instance I would like to tell you the story of what happened
several years back to a friend of mine, a young French writer. He had
a good, sincere mind, but he had also a strong leaning toward
mysticism,--something which was just then in danger of becoming as
much of a fashion in France as it is here now. The event of which I am
about to tell you threw him into what was almost a delirium, which
came near to robbing him of his normal intelligence, and therefore
came near to robbing French readers of a few excellent books.

"This was the way it happened:

"It was about ten years back, and I was spending the spring and summer
in Paris. I had a room with the family of a _concierge_ on the left
bank, rue de Vaugirard, near the Luxembourg Gardens.

"A few steps from my modest domicile lived my friend Lucien F. We had
become acquainted through a chain of circumstances which do not belong
to this story, but these circumstances had made firm friends of us, a
friendship which was a source of great pleasure and also of assistance
to me in my study of Paris conditions. This friendship also enabled me
to enjoy better and cheaper whisky than one can usually meet with in
the city by the Seine, a real good 'Jameson Highland.'

"Lucien F. had already published several books which had aroused
attention through the oddity of their themes, and their gratifying
success had made it possible for him to establish himself in a
comfortably furnished bachelor apartment on the corner of the rue de
Vaugirard and the rue de Conde.

"The apartment had a corridor and three rooms; a dining room, a
bedroom, and a charming study wit