Valentine's voice vibrated with arrogance. His hand still darted to and fro on the mantelpiece while he stood looking down at the doctor. There was something in his manner that suggested a mixture of triumph and fighting anxiety in his mind. But, as he continued to speak, the former got the upper hand. "A reason that might convince even you if you knew it." "Convince me, of exactly what?" the doctor asked, indifferently. His indifference seemed to pique Valentine, who replied with energy: "That human will can be cultivated, has been developed, until it has moved the mountain, achieved the thing men call a miracle." "By whom has it been so developed?" Valentine hesitated almost like one who fears to be led into a trap. The doctor could see "By me!" trembling upon his lips. He didn't actually utter it, but instead exclaimed with a laugh: "Some day you will discover." And as he spoke he looked at Julian and the lady of the feathers. The doctor was anxious to lead him on, and leaning easily back in his comfortable chair, occupied himself with his cigarette for a minute, as a man calmly at ease. Between his whiffs he presently threw out carelessly: "This man has compassed eternity by his own will?" "Oh, I did not say that." "He has contented himself with curing a sprained ankle by walking upon it, like my Christian scientist?" "Now you fly to the other extreme--from the very great to the very little. Take a middle course." "Where would that lead me?" Valentine threw a glance round the dim, hot, scented little room, then once more his eyes rested on Julian and Cuckoo. "What if I said--To this little room, to Julian and that girl, to myself?" he answered in a low voice. "And the miracle?" said the doctor. The door opened. Wade appeared with coffee. CHAPTER III THE HEALTH OF THE NEW YEAR Valentine turned quickly, with an air of mingled irritation and relief at the interruption. "We must all take coffee," he cried. "It will give us impetus, vitality, so that as the old year dies we may live more swiftly, more strongly. I like to feel that my life is increasing while that of another--the old year for instance--is decreasing." But the doctor noticed that his eyes had rested with a curiously significant expression upon Julian as he spoke the last sentence. "Leave the coffee-pot on that little table," he added to Wade, when the man had filled all four cups. "We may want it." Wade obeyed him and disappeared. "Your man makes wonderful coffee," the doctor said, sipping. "Yes. Julian, have you reached that _café noir_ I spoke of the other day?" Valentine asked laughingly, returning to his simile of the greedy man and happiness. "I don't know. Not yet, Val, I think," Julian answered. This coffee seemed to give him life at last. The heavy weariness disappeared from his face. His eyes gleamed with something of their old youthfulness and ardour. "If so, I must be close on happiness," he added.