hanism for the exhibition of films. Half way down the room was
a camp bedstead, covered with one brown blanket. Tim invited us to sit
on it.

"It doesn't often break down," he said.

"If it breaks down at all," said Gorman, "I'll not risk it. I'd rather
sit on the floor."

Gorman is a heavy man. I think he was right to avoid the bed. I sat down
cautiously on one end of it. The middle part looked more comfortable,
but I felt more secure with the legs immediately underneath me.

"It's all right," said Tim, "quite all right. I fixed it just before you
came in."

That bed, a tin basin and two very dirty towels were the only articles
of household furniture in the place. I suppose Tim had his meals with
the farmer who owned the barn. No inspired artist, toiling frenziedly
with a masterpiece in a garret, ever lived a more Spartan life than Tim
Gorman did in that barn. Whatever money he had was certainly not spent
on his personal comfort. On the other hand, a good deal of money had
been spent on tools and material of various kinds. Packing cases stood
piled together against the walls. The straw in which their contents had
been wrapped littered the floor. I discerned, as my eyes got used to the
gloom, a quantity of carpenters' tools near the stage, and, beside them,
a confused heap of the mysterious implements of the plumber's trade.

While I was looking round me and the elder Gorman was wriggling about on
the floor, Tim worked the lantern behind our backs. The thing, or some
part of it, hissed in an alarming way. Then it made a whirring noise
and a bright beam of light shot across the room. A very curious thing
happened to that light. Instead of splashing against the far wall of the
barn, exhibiting the cracks and ridges of the masonry, it stopped at
the stage and spread itself in a kind of irregular globe. We sat in the
dark. Across the room stretched the shaft of intense light, making the
dust particles visible. Then, just as when a child blows soap bubbles
through a tube, the light became globular.

"Put out the candles," said Tim.

They stood, flaming feebly, on the floor between Gorman and me. I
extinguished them. Tim's machine gave a sharp click. Figures appeared
suddenly in the middle of the globe of light. A man, then two women,
then a dog. I do not know, and at the time I did not care in the least,
what the figures were supposed to be saying or doing. It was sufficient
for me that they were there. I saw them,