'And it goes twice?' I said, nearing his doorway in a grateful perspiration.
'It goes a thousand times, many thousand times!' cried Gibberne, with a dramatic gesture, flinging open his Early English carved oak gate.
'Phew!' said I, and followed him to the door.
'I don't know how many times it goes,' he said, with his latch-key in his hand.
'And you'
'It throws all sorts of light on nervous physiology, it kicks the theory of vision into a perfectly new shape . . . Heaven knows how many thousand times. We'll try all that after The thing is to try the stuff now.'
'Try the stuff?' I said, as we went along the passage.
'Rather,' said Gibberne, turning on me in his study. 'There it is in that little green phial there! Unless you happen to be afraid?'
I am a careful man by nature, and only theoretically adventurous. I was afraid. But on the other hand, there is pride.
'Well,' I haggled. 'You say you've tried it? '
'I've tried it,' he said, 'and I don't look hurt by it, do I? I don't even look livery, and I feel'
I sat down. 'Give me the potion,' I said. 'If the worst comes to the worst it will save having my hair cut, and that, I think, is one of the most hateful duties of a civilised man. How do you take the mixture?'
'With water,' said Gibberne, whacking down a carafe.
He stood up in front of his desk and regarded me in his easy-chair; his manner was suddenly affected by a touch of the Harley Street specialist. 'It's rum stuff, you know,' he said.
I made a gesture with my hand.
