ns. He was
not ashamed of his calling, and Brotherson would think twice before
attacking him when once convinced that he had the Department behind him.

"Excuse me, comrade," were the words with which he endeavoured to
account for his presence at Brotherson's door. "My lamp smells so, and
I've made such a mess of my work to-day that I've just stepped in for a
chat. If I'm not wanted, say so. I don't want to bother you, but you do
look pleasant here. I hope the thing I'm turning over in my head--every
man has his schemes for making a fortune, you know--will be a success
some day. I'd like a big room like this, and a lot of books, and--and
pictures."

Craning his neck, he took a peep at the shelves, with an air of open
admiration which effectually concealed his real purpose. What he
wanted was to catch one glimpse of that empty space from his present
standpoint, and he was both astonished and relieved to note how narrow
and inconspicuous it looked. Certainly, he had less to fear than he
supposed, and when, upon Mr. Brotherson's invitation, he stepped into
the room, it was with a dash of his former audacity, which gave him,
unfortunately, perhaps, a quick, strong and unexpected likeness to his
old self.

But if Brotherson noticed this, nothing in his manner gave proof of the
fact. Though usually averse to visitors, especially when employed as at
present on his precious model, he quite warmed towards his unexpected
guest, and even led the way to where it stood uncovered on the table.

"You find me at work," he remarked. "I don't suppose you understand any
but your own?"

"If you mean to ask if I understand what you're trying to do there, I'm
free to say that I don't. I couldn't tell now, off-hand, whether it's an
air-ship you're planning, a hydraulic machine or--or--" He stopped, with
a laugh and turned towards the book-shelves. "Now here's what I like.
These books just take my eye."

"Look at them, then. I like to see a man interested in books. Only, I
thought if you knew how to handle wire, I would get you to hold this end
while I work with the other."

"I guess I know enough for that," was Sweetwater's gay rejoinder. But
when he felt that communicating wire in his hand and experienced for
the first time the full influence of the other's eye, it took all his
hardihood to hide the hypnotic thrill it gave him. Though he smiled
and chatted, he could not help asking himself between whiles, what had
killed the poor wa