did it give you this—this vision of the truth—that led to your resignation?"
Scrope felt a sudden shyness. But he wanted Dale's drug again so badly that he obliged himself to describe his previous experiences to the best of his ability.
"It was," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "a golden, transparent liquid. Very golden, like a warm-tinted Chablis. When water was added it became streaked and opalescent, with a kind of living quiver in it. I held it up to the light."
"Yes? And when you took it?"
"I felt suddenly clearer. My mind I had a kind of exaltation and assurance."
"Your mind," Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey assisted, "began to go twenty-nine to the dozen."
"It felt stronger and clearer," said Scrope, sticking to his quest.
"And did things look as usual?" asked the doctor, protruding his knobby little face like a clenched fist.
"No," said Scrope and regarded him. How much was it possible to tell a man of this type?
"They differed?" said the doctor, relaxing.
"Yes.... Well, to be plain.... I had an immediate sense of God. I saw the world—as if it were a transparent curtain, and then God became—evident.... Is it possible for that to determine the drug?"
"God became—evident," the doctor said with some
