was furious and on the point of disavowing these strangely humble
words of Morhange. But a glance showed me that there was as much irony
as surprise in his expression.

"I know indeed that most officers are brutes," grumbled the little old
man. "But that is no reason...."

"I am only an officer myself," Morhange went on, in an even humbler
tone, "and if ever I have been sensible to the intellectual
inferiority of that class, I assure you that it was now in glancing--I
beg your pardon for having taken the liberty to do so--in glancing
over the learned pages which you devote to the passionate story of
Medusa, according to Procles of Carthage, cited by Pausanias."

A laughable surprise spread over the features of the little old man.
He hastily wiped his spectacles.

"What!" he finally cried.

"It is indeed unfortunate, in this matter," Morhange continued
imperturbably, "that we are not in possession of the curious
dissertation devoted to this burning question by Statius Sebosus, a
work which we know only through Pliny and which...."

"You know Statius Sebosus?"

"And which, my master, the geographer Berlioux...."

"You knew Berlioux--you were his pupil?" stammered the little man with
the decoration.

"I have had that honor," replied Morhange, very coldly.

"But, but, sir, then you have heard mentioned, you are familiar with
the question, the problem of Atlantis?"

"Indeed I am not unacquainted with the works of Lagneau, Ploix, Arbois
de Jubainville," said Morhange frigidly.

"My God!" The little man was going through extraordinary contortions.
"Sir--Captain, how happy I am, how many excuses...."

Just then, the portiere was raised. Ferradji appeared again.

"Sir, they want me to tell you that unless you come, they will begin
without you."

"I am coming, I am coming. Say, Ferradji, that we will be there in a
moment. Why, sir, if I had foreseen ... It is extraordinary ... to
find an officer who knows Procles of Carthage and Arbois de
Jubainville. Again ... But I must introduce myself. I am Etienne Le
Mesge, Fellow of the University."

"Captain Morhange," said my companion.

I stepped forward in my turn.

"Lieutenant de Saint-Avit. It is a fact, sir, that I am very likely to
confuse Arbois of Carthage with Procles de Jubainville. Later, I shall
have to see about filling up those gaps. But just now, I should like
to know where we are, if we are free, and if not, what occult power
holds us. You have the