end resulted in the perfection of the instrument that was the
parent of the aerophone of commerce, and gave him a name among the
inventors of the century which will not easily be forgotten.

Strangely enough it was Morris's good genius, Mary, who suggested the
substance, or, rather, the mixture of substances, whereof that portion
of the aerophone was finally constructed which is still known as the
Monk Sound Waves Receiver. Whether, as she alleged, she made this
discovery by pure accident, or whether, as seems possible, she had
thought the problem out in her own feminine fashion with results that
proved excellent, does not matter in the least. The issue remains the
same. An apparatus which before would work only on rare occasions--and
then without any certitude--between people in the highest state of
sympathy or nervous excitement, has now been brought to such a stage of
perfection that by its means anybody can talk to anybody, even if their
interests are antagonistic, or their personal enmity bitter.

After the first few experiments with this new material Morris was not
slow to discover that although it would need long and careful testing
and elaboration, for him it meant, in the main, the realisation of
his great dream, and success after years of failure. And--that was the
strange part of it--this realisation and success he owed to no effort of
his own, but to some chance suggestion made by Mary. He told her this,
and thanked her as a man thanks one through whom he has found salvation.
In answer she merely laughed, saying that she was nothing but the wire
along which a happy inspiration had reached his brain, and that more
than this she neither wished, nor hoped, nor was capable of being.

Then suddenly on this happy, tranquil atmosphere which wrapped them
about--like the sound of a passing bell at a child's feast--floated the
first note of impending doom and death.

The autumn held fine and mild, and Mary, who had been lunching at the
Abbey, was playing croquet with Morris upon the side lawn. This game was
the only one for which she chanced to care, perhaps because it did not
involve much exertion. Morris, who engaged in the pastime with the same
earnestness that he gave to every other pursuit in which he happened
to be interested, was, as might be expected, getting the best of the
encounter.

"Won't you take a couple of bisques, dear?" he asked affectionately,
after a while. "I don't like always beating you by