unger or thirst before sighting
help, I should be the last survivor. No; you needn't stare: it's
perfectly simple. . . . I doubt if I ever told you that in the old
days, when experimenting with the animals, I found that my will--or
brain-power, if you prefer the term--worked torpidly for a while
after meals, although, as you know, I was never what they call a
hearty feeder. So I took to cutting down my rations. Then of course
I discovered that this was all right enough up to a point, beyond
which the stomach's craving made the brain irritable and impatient.
So for a long time I let it go at that, and ate pretty frugally at
fairly long stretches . . . until one day, in some book about Indian
fakirs, I picked up a hint that if this interval of exhaustion were
passed--if I stuck it out--my will might pick up its second wind, so
to speak, and work more strongly than ever. I was curious enough,
anyway, to give it a trial or two. The results didn't amount to
much: but I _did_ discover that I had a rather exceptional capacity
for fasting, and promised myself to practise it further, from time to
time, as an experiment on my own vile body.

"But now we'll come to something more important. In the matter of
thirst I had persevered: being, as you may remember, hot-foot upon
rabies just then and the salivary glands. . . . Well, in the matter
of thirst, I trained myself to do my three days easy without
swallowing a drop. That last night you invited yourself to dinner--
the night I first met Farrell, by the way--you unknowingly ended a
four days' experiment. I told Jimmy Collingwood about it, the
morning he breakfasted with me. . . ."

["I remember Jimmy's telling me something about it, in the taxi," I
put in. "He said you were either the saviour or the curse of
society--he wasn't clear which: wouldn't commit himself until he'd
read your forthcoming treatise on _Thirst, Its Cause and Cure_.
He added that you were mistaken if you thought the topic
non-controversial."]

"He needn't be afraid. . . Farrell smashed me up for good as a
benefactor of my species. . . . I shall put up a brass plate in
Harley Street and end my days as a pottering empiricist--Remember
Jimmy's trouble with that word?--alleviating particular complaints
for cash. If it hadn't been for Farrell--well, just you remember
_that_ when I stand up for judgment! . . .

"Anyhow, that infernal boat gave me all the personal experiment I
wanted. . . . I promised