Providence. . . . On the critical moment
of transference the bridge breaks behind me. I have lost all my
baggage. But, on the other shore, I have the jewel.

"--Listen, my boy. . . . The end of me may be empiricism. . . . They
have destroyed eight years' work, and I have nothing left of it but
memories of data which I can't produce for evidence--worthless, that
is, for a man of my scientific conscience. _En revanche_ and on the
other side of the stream I find I have _it_; to carry on and test
upon a fellow-man I have the diamond to cut all glass. With the
brute beasts it was all observation, much of it uncertain.
Henceforth it will be clean experiment. Farrell accused me of
practising vivisection. As a matter of fact, I never did. Now I'm
going to, and on Farrell."

Jimmy arose on pretence of seeking a match, and leaned his elbow on
the mantelpiece while he stared into the fire.

"Oh, I say, Professor!" he blurted out. "Farrell, you know! He's no
sort of class. He--he deserves punishing, but he don't mean any
harm, if you understand." Here Jimmy faced about with an ingenuous
smile. "I'm a bit of a fool myself, you see, and must speak up for
my order."

"But you speak up too late, my boy," answered Foe. "What's the use
of telling me that Farrell is no class? As if I didn't know _that_!
. . . Why, man, I didn't _choose_ Farrell, to pay my attentions to
him. If the gods had paid me the compliment of sending along the
late Mr. Gladstone, or the present Archbishop of Canterbury (whoever
he may be), or General Booth (if he's alive), to knock out eight
years of my life like so many skittles in an alley, I'd have felt
flattered, of course. But they didn't: they sent along Farrell, and
I bow my head before a higher wisdom which, you'll allow, has been
justified of its child. Could the late Mr. Gladstone--since we've
instanced him--have done it more expeditiously, more thoroughly, with
a neater turn of the wrist? . . . No. Very well, then! Better men
than I have married their cooks and been content to recognise that it
just happened so. You can start apologising for Farrell when I start
complaining he's inadequate."

Jack's eyes, during this speech, were for Jimmy, of course, and I had
used the opportunity to watch his face pretty narrowly. It was a
little more than ordinarily pale, but composed, as his tone was light
and his manner of speech almost flippant. I wondered. . . .

"Jimmy meant," said