been looking me
in the face for the last fourteen years."

The flash of excitement leapt into Marcel's eyes.

"You've--found the stuff?" he demanded, in a curious hushed tone. Then
with a rush: "Where? On the road to Seal Bay? Or the shores of Hudson's
Bay? It's the sort of thing for a coast like that. Guess it's like
seaweed. Where?"

Steve shook his head.

"Guess again," he said, with a smile of added confidence. "No, I haven't
seen it. I haven't found it. It's just a notion in my fool head." His
eyes lapsed again into their wonted seriousness. "It's a notion I've
got, and--it's right. Oh, yes. In my mind's eye I can see the stuff
growing. And--I--know--where. It's just for me to locate the place and
make the journey----"

"For us, Uncle Steve."

Steve turned sharply and gazed up into the boy's handsome, determined
face. He studied the unsmiling blue eyes that returned his look
unflinchingly. And that which he read in them left him with a
realization that a new chapter in the history of their companionship was
about to open.

"We'll get along to your father's office, boy," he said quietly. "It's
been our refuge and schoolroom for fourteen years. Maybe it's still the
best place for us both to learn our lessons."

He led the way out without waiting for reply. And as they passed from
the portals of the Poison House he again set up the fastenings.

Each had his own place in the simple room which Marcel's father had
dedicated to the science which had been his whole life. For him it had
been all sufficient. The storming of the elements outside might have
been the breathlessness of a tropical climate so far as he cared, once
absorbed in the studies that claimed him. And in a measure the
atmosphere of the room had a similar influence upon these two who came
after him.

Steve occupied the chair at the desk. Marcel had taken possession of the
chair which stood before a small table upon which he had been accustomed
to pursue the simple studies Steve had been able to prepare for him. He
had turned the chair about so that he sat with his feet upon the rail of
the stove in which summer and winter the fire was never permitted to go
out. He had come prepared to listen to the man who had always been his
guide and well-loved friend. But he had come also with the intention of
pressing those claims of manhood which were passionately crying out
within him.

The room was changed only that the belongings of these men, accumu