evelopment,
and one that we must recognise as abnormal, since it is beyond the reach
of the world at the present stage of evolution. Higher Space is a
mythical state."

"Oh!" cried the other, rubbing his birdlike hands with pleasure, "the
relief it is to be able to talk to some one who can understand! Of
course what you say is the utter truth. And you are right that no mere
chance led me to my present condition, but, on the other hand, prolonged
and deliberate study. Yet chance in a sense now governs it. I mean, my
entering the condition of Higher Space seems to depend upon the chance
of this and that circumstance. For instance, the mere sound of that
German band sent me off. Not that all music will do so, but certain
sounds, certain vibrations, at once key me up to the requisite pitch,
and off I go. Wagner's music always does it, and that band must have
been playing a stray bit of Wagner. But I'll come to all that later.
Only first, I must ask you to send away your man from the spy-hole."

John Silence looked up with a start, for Mr. Mudge's back was to the
door, and there was no mirror. He saw the brown eye of Barker glued to
the little circle of glass, and he crossed the room without a word and
snapped down the black shutter provided for the purpose, and then heard
Barker snuffle away along the passage.

"Now," continued the little man in the chair, "I can begin. You have
managed to put me completely at my ease, and I feel I may tell you my
whole case without shame or reserve. You will understand. But you must
be patient with me if I go into details that are already familiar to
you--details of Higher Space, I mean--and if I seem stupid when I have
to describe things that transcend the power of language and are really
therefore indescribable."

"My dear friend," put in the other calmly, "that goes without saying. To
know Higher Space is an experience that defies description, and one is
obliged to make use of more or less intelligible symbols. But, pray,
proceed. Your vivid thoughts will tell me more than your halting words."

An immense sigh of relief proceeded from the little figure half lost in
the depths of the chair. Such intelligent sympathy meeting him half-way
was a new experience to him, and it touched his heart at once. He leaned
back, relaxing his tight hold of the arms, and began in his thin,
scale-like voice.

"My mother was a Frenchwoman, and my father an Essex bargeman," he said
abruptly. "Hence m