d
your phylacteries,' you know."

Carrick snorted, and they walked in silence through the little
village that lay below the church.

The matter they had in common, which bridged their diversity and made
it possible for them to be, after their fashion, friends, was their
interest in the subject which Carrick had made his own--experimental
psychology. Like all successful business men, Mr. Newman had an
unschooled aptitude for the science, and had practised it with profit
on his competitors and employees before he knew a word of its
technology. In Carrick's bare and lamp-lit study they had joined
forces to bewilder and undermine the intelligence of the sly spaniel,
and there had been sessions of hypnotism, with Mr. Newman rigid in
trances, while Carrick groped, as it were, among the springs of his
mind. The pair of them had incurred the indignation of European
authorities, writing in obscure and costly little journals whose
names the general public never heard. The bond of martyrdom--
martyrdom in print--united them.

"By the way," suggested Mr. Newman, when the village was behind them
and they were walking between high hedgerows flamboyant with summer
growth. "By the way, wasn't there something you wanted to speak to
me about?"

"Eh? Oh yes," replied Carrick. "Bother! I want you to come to my
place to-night to try something--something new, a big thing."

"To-night?" said Mr. Newman. "No, not to-night, Carrick."

"Why not?" demanded Carrick. "I tell you, it's a big thing. I've had
an idea of it for some time; those clairvoyant tests put me on to it;
but I've only just got it clear. It's big."

Mr. Newman shook his head. "Not to-night," he said. "You're a queer
fellow, Carrick; you never can remember what day of the week it is
for more than five minutes at a time."

"Oh!" Carrick scowled. "You mean it's Sunday. But this--I tell you,
this isn't just an ordinary thing, Newman. I'll explain--it's new and
it's big!"

"No," said Newman. "Not to-night, Carrick, please!"

"Hang it!" said Carrick. He would have spoken more liberally, but the
choice was between restraint in language and the loss of Mr. Newman
as an acquaintance. That had been made clear soon after their first
meeting.

Mr. Newman smiled, and rested a large hand on Carrick's arm.

"We go by different roads to our goal, Carrick," he said, "but it is
the same goal. We serve the same Master, under different names and in
different ways. You call Him Scie