"Yes, he'd do. I'd ask him, and you bet he'd tell us. But"--and here Billy's manner became explosive--"I'll tell you what! _I wish we could meet God!_ He's a jolly sight older than the Pope, or the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the Emperor of Germany. I believe he'd like to be asked more than any of them. And I'd ask him like a shot!" "But _he's_ not miserable," I interposed. "How do you know he isn't--_sometimes_? It would do him good anyhow." I was getting out of my depth. As a speculator I had none of the boldness which prompted the explosions of Billy, and an instinct of decency suggested a change of conversation. "What shall we do with those half-sovereigns?" I asked. "Hush!" said Billy, "_they'll_ hear you." "Who'll hear me?" "Never mind who. They're listening, you bet. Never say 'half-sovereigns' again." "But what are we to do with them?" "Keep them. Let's put a cross on each of them at once." So we took out the coins, and with our penknives we scratched a cross on the cheek of her gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria. Both coins are now in my possession. The cross on the cheek of Queen Victoria has worked wonders. It has brought me good luck. In return I have hedged the coins with safeguards both moral and material. When I am gone they will be----But I am anticipating. And now the fever was in full possession of our souls. I believe we were secretly determined to bring all the old gentlemen in the world under the sway of our formula. We were beneficent magicians. Had we been older, a vast prospect of social regeneration would have opened before us. But all we knew at the time was that we possessed a power for rejuvenating the aged. An ardent missionary fervour burned in our bones; and we were swept along as by a whirlwind. Never was infatuation more complete.