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flowers. He said nothing. Presently he ventured to lean over the table and smell the violets; they were fresh-picked and very fine ones. Then he stared at Mr. Fotheringay again. "How did you do that?" he asked. Mr. Fotheringay pulled his moustache. "Just told it — and there you are. . Is that a miracle, or is it black art, or what is it? And what do you think's the matter with me? That'3 what I want to ask." "It's a most extraordinary occurrence." "And this day last week I knew no more that I could do things like that than you did. It came quite sudden. It's something odd about my will, I suppose, and that's as far as I can see." "Is that — the only thing. Could you do other things besides that?" "Lord, yes!" said Mr. Fotheringay. "Just any- thing." He thought, and suddenly recalled a conjur- ing entertainment he had seen. "Here!" he point- ed, "change into a bowl of fish — not, not that— change into a glass bowl full of water with gold- fish swimming in it. That's better! You see that, Mr. Maydig?" "It's astonishing. It's incredible. You are either a most extraordinary . . . But no " "I could change it into anything," said Mr. Foth- eringay. "Just anything. Here ! be a pigeon, will you?" In another moment a blue pigeon was fluttering round the room and making Mr. Maydig duck every time it came near him. "Stop there, will you?" said Mr. Fotheringay; and the pigeon hung motionless in the air. "I could change it back to a bowl of flowers," he said, and after replacing the pigeon on the table worked that miracle. "I expect you will want your pipe in a bit," he said, and restored the tobacco-jar. Mr. Maydig Very Much Interested MR. MAYDIG had followed all these later changes in a sort of ejaculatory silence. He stared at Mr. Fotheringay and in a very gingerly manner picked up the tobacco-jar, ex- amined it, replaced it on the table. "Well!" was the only expression of his feelings. "Now, after that it's easier to explain what I came about," said Mr. Fotheringay; and proceeded to a lengthy and involved narrative of his strange experiences, beginning with the affair of the lamp in the Long Dragon and complicated by persistent allusions to Winch. As he went on, the transient pride of Mr. Maydig*s consternation had caused passed away; he became the very ordinary Mr. Fotheringay of everyday intercourse again. Mr. Maydig listened intently, the tobacco-jar in his hand, and his bearing ehanged also with the course of the narrative. Presently, while Mr. Fotheringay was dealing with the miracle of the third egg, the minister interrupted with a fluttering, extended hand. "It is possible," he said. "It is credible. It is amazing, of course, but it reconciles a number of amazing difficulties. The power to work miracles is a gift— a peculiar quality like genius or second sight; hitherto it has come very rarely and to ex- ceptional people. But in this case ... I have al- ways wondered at the miracles of Mahomet, and at Yogi's miracles, and the miracles of Madame Bla- vatsky. But, of course — ■ — Yes, it is simply a gift! It carries out so beautifully the arguments of that great thinker"-^Mr. Maydig's voice sank — "his Grace the Duke of Argyll. Here we plumb some profounder law — deeper than the ordinary laws of nature. Yes — yes. Go on. Go on !" CHAPTER VI A Long Talk With the Clergyman About Miracles R. FOTHERINGAY proceeded to tell of his misadventure with Winch, and Mr. Maydig, no longer overawed or scared, began to jerk his limbs about and interject astonishment. "It's this what troubled me most," proceeded Mr. Fotheringay; "it's this I'm most mijitly in want of advice for; of course he's at San Francisco— i wherever San Francisco may be — but of course it's awkward for both of us, as you'll see, Mr. Maydig. I don't see how he can understand what has hap- pened, and I dare say he's scared and exasperated something tremendous, and trying to get at me. I dare say he keeps on starting off to come here. I send him back, by a miracle every few hours when I think, of it. And of course, that's a thing he won't be able to understand, and it's bound to annoy him; And, of course, if he takes a ticket every time it will cost him a lot of money. I done the best I could for him, but, of course, its's difficult for him to put himself in my place. I thought afterwards that his clothes might have got scorched, you Itnow — if Hades is all. it's supposed to be — before I shift- ed him. In that case I suppose they'd have locked him up in San Francisco. Of course I willed him a new suit of clothes on him directly I thought of it. But, you see, I'm already in a deuce of a tangle Mr. Maydig looked serious. "I see you are in a tangle. Yes, it's a difficult position. How you are to end it . . ." He became diffused and inconclusive. "However, we'll leave Winch for a little and dis- cuss the larger question. I don't think this is a case of the black art or anything of the sort. I don't think there is any taint of criminality about it at all, Mr. Fotheringay — none whatever, unless you are suppressing material facts. No, it's miracles — pure miracles — miracles, if I may say so, of the very highest class." He began to pace the hearthrug and gesticulate, while Mr. Fotheringay sat with his arm on the table and his head on his arm, looking worried. "I don't see how I'm to manage about Winch," he said. "A gift of working miracles — apparently a very powerful gift," said Mr. Maydig, "will find a way about Winch — never fear. My dear sir, you are a most important man — a man of the most astonishing possibilities. As evidence, for example! And in other ways, the things you may do . . ." "Yes, I've thought of a thing or two," said Mr. Fotheringay. "But — some of the things came a bit twisty. You saw that fish at first? Wrong sort of bowl and wrong sort of fish. And I thought I'd ask some one." "A proper course," said Mr. Maydig, "a very proper course — altogether the proper course." He stopped and looked at Mr. Fotheringay. "It's prac- tically an unlimited gift. Let us test your' powers.