on hope, only to be hurled down into bitterness. I've known men, and good men like your brother, come nearer than this and be disappointed. Of course, if it is true—"
"If it is true," said the woman, fiercely, "it means that people who have never lived may make an attempt at living."
Even as she spoke the professor came into the room, still with the mazed look in his eyes.
"Is it true?" asked Basil, with burning eyes.
"Not a bit true," answered Chadd, after a moment's bewilderment. "Your argument was in three points fallacious."
"What do you mean?" demanded Grant.
"Well," said the professor, slowly, "in saying that you could possess a knowledge of the essence of Zulu life distinct from—"
"Oh, confound Zulu life!" cried Grant, with a burst of laughter. "I mean, have you got the post?"
"You mean the post of keeper of the Asiatic manuscripts," he said, opening his eye with childlike wonder. "Oh yes, I got that. But the real objection to your argument, which has only, I admit, occurred to me since I have been out of the room, is that it does not merely presuppose a Zulu truth apart from the facts, but infers that the discovery of it is absolutely impeded by the facts."
"I am crushed," said Basil, and sat down to laugh, while the professor's sister retired to her room, possibly to laugh, possibly not.
It was extremely late when we left the Chadds', and it is an extremely long and tiresome journey from Shepherd's Bush to Lambeth. This may be our excuse for the fact that we (for I was stopping the night with Grant) got down to breakfast next day at a time inexpressibly criminal, a time, in point of fact, close upon noon. Even to that belated meal we came in a very lounging and leisurely fashion. Grant, in particular, seemed so dreamy at table that he scarcely saw the pile of letters by his plate, and I doubt if he would have opened any of them if there had not lain on the top that one thing which has succeeded amid modern carelessness in being really urgent and coercive—a telegram. This he opened with the same heavy distraction with which he broke his egg and drank his tea. When he read it he did not stir a hair or say a word, but something, I know not what, made me feel that the motionless figure had been pulled together suddenly as strings are tightened on a slack guitar. Though he said nothing and did not move, I knew that he had been for an instant cleared and sharpened with a shock of cold water. It was scarcely any surprise to me when the man who had drifted sullenly to his seat and fallen into it, kicked it away like a cur from under him and came round to me in two strides.
What do you make of that?" he said, and flattened out the wire in front of me.
It ran: "Please come at once. James's mental state dangerous. Chadd."
