“Oh, no. Plain American clothes. It’s only his inner man that’s Roman, of course. He met with bump on the head—this is his story, and he’s got a the scar to show for it—and when he came to, he’d lost ground a couple of thousand years and returned to his former existence. No English. No memory of who or what he’d been. No money connection whatsoever with the living world.” “Humph! Wonder if he’s been a student of Kippling. You remember ‘The Greatest Story in the World; the reincarnated galley slave?’ Now as to this Colonel Graeme; has he ever published?” “Yes. Two small pamphlets, issued by the Classicist Press, which publishes the _Classical Weekly_.” “Supporting his fads, I suppose.” “Right. He devoted one pamphlet to each.” Average Jones contemplated with absorbed attention an ant which was making a laborious spiral ascent of his cane. Not until it had gained a vantage point on the bone handle did he speak again. “See here, Professor Warren: I’m a passionate devotee of the Latin tongue. I have my deep and dark suspicions of our present modes of pronunciation, all three of ’em. As for the ablative absolute, its reconstruction and regeneration have been the inspiring principle of my studious manhood. Humbly I have sat at the feet of Learning, enshrined in the Ridgway Graeme pamphlets. I must meet Colonel Graeme—after reading the pamphlets. I hope they’re not long.” Warren frowned. “Colonel Graeme is a gentleman and my friend, Mr. Jones,” he said with emphasis. “I won’t have him made a butt.” “He shan’t be, by me,” said Average Jones quietly. “Has it perhaps struck you, as his friend, that—er—a close daily association with the psychic remnant of a Roman citizen might conceivably be non-conducive to his best interest?” “Yes, it has. I see your point. You want to approach him on his weak side. But, have you Latin enough to sustain the part? He’s shrewd as a weasel in all matters of scholarship, though a child whom any one could fool in practical affairs.” “No; I haven’t,” admitted Average Jones. “Therefore, I’m a mute. A shock in early childhood paralyzed my centers of speech. I talk to you by sign language, and you interpret.” “But I hardly know the deaf-mute alphabet.” “Nor I. But I’ll waggle my fingers like lightning if he says anything to me requiring an answer, and you’ll give the proper reply. Does Colonel Graeme implicitly credit the Romanism of his guest?” “He does, because he wants to. To have an educated man of the classic period of the Latin tongue, a friend of Cæsar, an auditor of Cicero and a contemporary of Virgil, Horace and Ovid come back and speak in the accent he’s contended for, make a powerful support for his theories. He’s at work on a supplementary thesis already.” “What do the other Latin men who’ve seen Livius, think of the metempsychosis claim?”