In a few words each thing was defined, explained, and illuminated by commentary, and as he made sweeping gestures to every point of the compass, to draw attention now to a river, and now to a steeple, his outspread arms seemed to lengthen into rays, like those of a lighthouse, which sheds its long protecting beams over the countryside. The return to Fonval usually took place in less scientific circumstances. My uncle continued his speculations which he would keep to himself, assuming them, I suppose, to be too abstruse for my intelligence, and he hummed as he went along, his favorite air, which I suppose he had learnt from one of his assistants, “_Rum fil dum._” Once we got back, he hastened to the laboratory, or the hothouse. We varied these walks with expeditions in the motor-car, and then my uncle put himself astride another hobby-horse. He classed my vehicle in its rank amongst animal categories, showed the creatures of to-day, of yesterday, and of to-morrow, among which, no doubt, the automobile would take its place, and this prophecy finished up with a warm panegyric of my 80 h. p. He wanted to learn how to drive the engine. It was an easy business. In three lessons I made him a past master. He always drove now, and I did not complain, as ever since the two severings and two re-joinings of the optic nerves, any long strain tired my eyes. My left ear had not yet recovered all the sensibility one could have wished, but I did not dare to talk about it to Lerne for fear of adding one more to the many remorseful thoughts that seemed to haunt him. * * * * * It was at the end of one of those pleasure trips that I happened, in cleaning my car--a thing I had to do myself--to find between the back and the cushion of Lerne’s seat, a little note-book which had slipped from his pocket. I put it away in mine, with the intention of restoring it to him. My curiosity got the better of me. On regaining my room, and without rejoining the Professor, I examined my find. It was a diary crammed full of rapid notes and figures sketched in pencil. It resembled the daily record of some research--a laboratory journal. The figures conveyed no meaning to my eyes. The text was composed mainly of German terms (more especially) and French ones, too. The terms seemed to be chosen in either language, as inspiration directed. The _ensemble_ did not have any meaning for me. However, I discovered a piece of less chaotic literature dated the day before, in which I thought I could recognize a _résumé_ of the preceding pages; and the fact of my understanding some French words, and the sense which they assumed (once they were put together) awoke in me both an inveterate detective and a new-born linguist. Among such words were the following substantives, connected by German words: “transmission of thought,” “electricity,” “brains,” “batteries.”