“Yes, I concede that, too—cordially.” “Very well, again; we are making progress. To sum up: The feeling, it is conceded, is not engendered by the mere conduct of the materializee; it is conceded that it does not arise from any pang which the _personality_ of the materializee could assuage. Now then,” said the earl, with the light of triumph in his eye, “the inexorable logic of the situation narrows us down to this: our feeling has its source in the _money_-loss involved. Come—isn’t that so?” “Goodness knows I concede that, with all my heart.” “Very well. When you’ve found out the source of a disease, you’ve also found out what remedy is required—just as in this case. In this case money is required. And _only_ money.” The old, old seduction was in that airy, confident tone and those significant words—usually called pregnant words in books. The old answering signs of faith and hope showed up in Hawkins’s countenance, and he said: “_Only_ money? Do you mean that you know a way to—” “Washington, have you the impression that I have no resources but those I allow the public and my intimate friends to know about?” “Well, I—er—” “Is it _likely_, do you think, that a man moved by nature and taught by experience to keep his affairs to himself and a cautious and reluctant tongue in his head, wouldn’t be thoughtful enough to keep a few resources in reserve for a rainy day, when he’s got as many as I have to select from?” “Oh, you make me feel so much better already, Colonel!” “Have you ever been in my laboratory?” “Why, no.” “That’s it. You see you didn’t even know that I had one. Come along. I’ve got a little trick there that I want to show you. I’ve kept it perfectly quiet, not fifty people know anything about it. But that’s my way, always been my way. Wait till you’re _ready_, that’s the idea; and _when_ you’re ready, _zzip!_—let her go!” “Well, Colonel, I’ve never seen a man that I’ve had such unbounded confidence in as you. When you say a thing right out, I always feel as if that ends it; as if that is evidence, and proof, and everything else.” The old earl was profoundly pleased and touched. “I’m glad _you_ believe in me, Washington; not everybody is so just.” “I always have believed in you; and I always shall as long as I live.” “Thank you, my boy. You shan’t repent it. And you _can’t_.” Arrived in the “laboratory,” the earl continued, “Now, cast your eye around this room—what do you see? _Apparently_ a junk-shop; _apparently_ a hospital connected with a patent office—in _reality_, the mines of Golconda in disguise! Look at that thing there. Now what would you take that thing to be?” “I don’t believe I could ever imagine.”