ut a word. "This way, sir."

The house was of the modern American basement type, and I was ushered
into a small reception-room on the right of the entrance hall. "Will
you have the Post, sir? Or any of the illustrated papers? Just as you
please, sir; thank you."

The man withdrew, and I sat looking listlessly about me, for the room,
while handsomely furnished, had an appearance entirely commonplace.

Five and ten minutes passed, and I began to grow impatient. I
remembered that Jeckley's appointment had been for eight o'clock, and
for obvious considerations I did not wish that he should find me
waiting here. It was eight o'clock now, and I would abide Mr. Indiman's
lordly pleasure no longer. I rose to go; the electric bell sounded.

I could hear Jeckley's high-pitched voice distinctly; he seemed to be
put out about something; he spoke impatiently, even angrily.

"But this is 4020 Madison Avenue, isn't it? Mr. Indiman--I was asked to
call--Mr. Jeckley, of the Planet."

"Must be some mistake, sir," came the answer. "This is No. 4020, but
there's no Mr. Inkerman--"

"Indiman, not Inkerman--Mr. Esper Indiman. Look at the card."

"Never heard the name, sir."

"What! Well, then, who does live here?"

"Mr. Snell, sir. Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell. But he's at dinner, and I
couldn't disturb him."

"Humph!" I fancy that Jeckley swore under his breath as he turned to
go. Then the outer door was closed upon him.

It was a relief, of course, to be spared the infliction of Mr.
Jeckley's society, but I could not but admit that the situation was
developing some peculiarities. Eliminating the doubtful personality of
Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell, who was this Mr. Esper Indiman, whose
identity had been so freely admitted to me and so explicitly denied to
Jeckley? The inference was obvious that Jeckley had failed to pass the
first inspection test, and so had been turned down without further
ceremony. This reflection rather amused me; I forgot about the
incivility to which I was being subjected in the long wait, and began
to be curious about the game itself. What next?

At a quarter after eight, and then again at half after, there were
inquiries at the door for Mr. Indiman. To each caller the answer was
returned that no Mr. Indiman was known at No. 4020 Madison Avenue, and
that Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell could not be disturbed at his dinner.

There was no caller at the next quarter, and none again at nine
o'clock. The series had,