be only this: Nupton will not have read the
later passages of this memoir. Such lack of thoroughness is a serious
fault in any one who undertakes to do scholar's work. And I hope these
words will meet the eye of some contemporary rival to Nupton and be the
undoing of Nupton.

I like to think that some time between 1992 and 1997 somebody will have
looked up this memoir, and will have forced on the world his inevitable
and startling conclusions. And I have reason for believing that this
will be so. You realize that the reading-room into which Soames was
projected by the devil was in all respects precisely as it will be on
the afternoon of June 3, 1997. You realize, therefore, that on that
afternoon, when it comes round, there the selfsame crowd will be, and
there Soames will be, punctually, he and they doing precisely what they
did before. Recall now Soames's account of the sensation he made. You
may say that the mere difference of his costume was enough to make him
sensational in that uniformed crowd. You wouldn't say so if you had
ever seen him, and I assure you that in no period would Soames be
anything but dim. The fact that people are going to stare at him and
follow him around and seem afraid of him, can be explained only on the
hypothesis that they will somehow have been prepared for his ghostly
visitation. They will have been awfully waiting to see whether he
really would come. And when he does come the effect will of course
be--awful.

An authentic, guaranteed, proved ghost, but; only a ghost, alas! Only
that. In his first visit Soames was a creature of flesh and blood,
whereas the creatures among whom he was projected were but ghosts, I
take it--solid, palpable, vocal, but unconscious and automatic ghosts,
in a building that was itself an illusion. Next time that building and
those creatures will be real. It is of Soames that there will be but
the semblance. I wish I could think him destined to revisit the world
actually, physically, consciously. I wish he had this one brief
escape, this one small treat, to look forward to. I never forget him
for long. He is where he is and forever. The more rigid moralists
among you may say he has only himself to blame. For my part, I think
he has been very hardly used. It is well that vanity should be
chastened; and Enoch Soames's vanity was, I admit, above the average,
and called for special treatment. But there was no need for
vindictiveness. You say