"I beggared myself procurin' the materials," says the Prof, apologetic. "Modern chemicals will not work. One must use the impure, the sometimes ridiculous chemicals of the ancients. It is possible that the very impurities are the essential ingredients. But at the cost of all my savings, I made ten cubic centimetres of yellow fluid. I tried a bit of it on an ancient rat from the biology department at Perkins. It worked--too well. Much too well! So I--ah--I was forced to experiment for the proper dosage. One cubic centimetre of the yellow fluid--the elixir--it developed, would restore a twenty-pound animal to early maturity. Seven to ten centimetres would be required for an adult human being. But I had to expend eight cubic centimetres to verify this fact in my experiments on small animals. I have only two centimetres left. But I do have a number of very elderly rats at my dwelling. I will let you choose any one of them; I will administer the elixir, and allow you to take the animal away and care for it. In three days it will be a young rat again." "Such evidence would be unquestionable," beams Jode. "How much?" "Eh?" says the Prof, startled. "You need the Elixir yourself," says Jode, grunting amiable. "You are broke. If somebody will finance the makin' of an adequate supply for you, you will make enough for him, too. You see, I am saving you the trouble of makin' the pitch. And I say again, how much?" The Prof's eyes gleam. He wets his lips. Jode says confidential. "I am a customer. I can fetch in another--a very rich man. If I finance the operation myself, will you split with me what I get outa him? Your split will be in five figures. Maybe more." "I--ah--when I am a young man again," admits the Prof, "it would be a very good idea to have some capital with which to start life anew. Er--yes, I will agree to that." Jode asks questions, fast, and peels off century-notes like he was dealing a hand for set-back. He is hooked; he is beaming. All during the rest of dinner he wheezes and snorts happy to himself. * * * * * After the Prof has gone away, old Jode says scornful that he is strictly a small-time operator, and he doubts if he ever took over a customer for as much as a grand in all his life. But he figures Prof is ripe for plenty more than this first installment, which is what Jode wants. Up in our rooms, he is still grinning with all his chins and wattles. "A lovely business, eh, Buck? Convincin', too! Can't you picture how Vachti will fall for this Elixir of Youth proposition? He'll see himself young, surrounded by pretty girls...." [Illustration: "Can't you picture how Vachti will fall for this Elixir of Youth proposition? He'll see himself young, surrounded by pretty girls...."] "I know of a coupla science-fiction writers coulda done it better," I say, detached. "But it's good enough. It would take a good man to find a hole in that theory. In fact, it would prob'ly work." "Huh?" says Jode.