“It certainly is a beautiful thing to look at, but useless,” he told me; “a failure which some day I shall master. I am in a fair way to succeed, as I have discovered the faults and now only have to discover the remedy.” An odd look of hopelessness and defiance shaded his face, he turned as though to hide the expression. “I haven’t been near it for months,” he continued, “everything is in readiness, though. I keep it that way in case I take the notion and won’t have to waste time in preparations; but to look at it sometimes sickens me.” “Courage,” I told him, “you cannot fail. You are master of the instrument because aware of its imperfections.” He sighed heavily, then explained the faults of his machine, which I examined with enthusiasm. I became inspired and declared positively I could perfect it. Saxe. smiled and replaced the covering, then trotted me from his treasure room. “You are a one-idea-at-a-time man; you have said it is the secret of the prolongation of youth. At present your splendid intellect is a blank and I will not take advantage of it. Go, remain away a week, think well of your future, mature what indefinite plans you may have formed. Should you return within the week I know you are free, untrammeled, open to suggestion and the supreme idea. Whichever way you decide, Salucci, I wish you prosperity and success.” I grasped his hand as he escorted me to the door. I had spent the entire day with him and it was evening now, beautiful with the white light of the moon. Saxe. stepped out to inhale the fresh, balmy air, and greeted a man who was coming up the little gravel path, who informed him it was an indifferent night for observations. The light from the door fell upon his features and I recognized Professor Saunders, the astronomer, whose lectures I had often listened to with the keenest interest. He greeted me, then murmured something, entered the house and rapidly vanished in the region of the attic. Saxe., anxious to join his friend, rather abruptly bade me good-night, however, reminding me I had been haphazard long enough. “Be decisive,” he murmured. CHAPTER III. I thought of Saxe. and his strange instrument, continually wondering what it was intended for, while my fingers twitched to handle it. The old glamour of Saxe.’s companionship was upon me, again was I ambitious, dauntless, scorning difficulties, confident I could accomplish what he, with all his superior knowledge, had failed to do—perfect and set in motion the machinery that he had nearly wasted his entire life upon. Anxious to test my ability, positive of success, I lost no time in presenting myself to Saxe. early the next day. He was hurried when admitting me and speeded down the hall, bidding me to follow. “Frogs saute,” he explained, “and Saunders and Sheldon are here—know ’em?” “Met Sheldon some time ago and Saunders last night,” I reminded him.