broke into high, uncontrollable laughter.

"The Wandering Jew," he babbled. "We'll show him!"

Mr. Newman heard him with growing wonder, but now he shook his arm
loose.

"Get yourself a drink," he said. "You're raving. I want to talk to
you."

The word was enough; Carrick stopped laughing, and walked away toward
his desk. Mr. Newman, standing by the big arm-chair from which he had
just risen, looked after him with a sudden liveliness growing in his
face. The experience through which he had just come, abiding with him
as so secure a memory, precluded the doubts he might otherwise have
felt; Carrick's words and his excitement, so unusual in him, and the
clear, unquestionable sense of recollection with which he summoned
again to his mind the white dusty road, the swaying body of the
hanged man, the drum of the hoofs of the coach-horses-these stormed
his reason and forced conviction on him.

"The siege of Troy, you said?" he asked, with a nervous titter. The
thing was gripping him.

Carrick had seated himself at his desk, as though to steady himself
by the sight of its prosaic litter. He looked up now, his face
composed and usual in the light of the reading lamp.

"Or anywhere," he said shortly. He nodded two or three times
impressively; he was master of himself again. "It's true, Newman; I
can do it; I've opened the door. We must have a few more tests and
verify the method by trying it on another subject. Then we'll go to
war with the professors."

"Ye-es," agreed Mr. Newman absently. "Anywhere, you said? You can
open my eyes at any period in time? You can do that, Carrick?"

"Well," began Carrick, and paused. "Why?" he demanded. "What have you
got in your mind?"

Mr. Newman came slowly down toward him till he leaned across the top
of the desk facing the younger man. He was smiling still, but a fire
had lit in his eyes, something adventurous and strong looked out
through them. The elderly stout man was braced and exalted like a
martyr going to the stake.

"Can you?" he repeated. "Can you, Carrick? Say--can you do that?"

"Unless----" hesitated the other, staring at him. "But--you must have
been somewhere, at any time. Yes, I can do it."

Mr. Newman's eyes looked over his head and beyond him.

"Then," he said, and a deep note reverberated in his even voice--
"then show me the day on which Christ died!"

He continued to look past Carrick at the shadowy end of the room,
still smiling his strange and uplif