He was a singularly accessible little man, simple and modest, and not afflicted with “frills” or shyness. But the queer, birdlike eyes, while they smiled a gently diffused benevolence, missed no crumb of what passed around. He was delighted to meet Mr. Brandon--there was a curious habit of cutting up his words into syllables, the voice was soft and kind to the verge of the feminine, the handshake prompt and hearty and almost embarrassingly full of friendship. Altogether he was such a disarming little man on the surface, that it was hard to believe that any real depth of guile could be masked by such charm and innocence. But somehow the infallible Pomfret, in spite of his encomiums, had contrived to leave no doubt on the matter. “‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son,’” he whispered as they moved in the direction of luncheon. The table was in the left-hand corner, out of the range of the curious, and as they sat down a feeling almost uncanny came upon Brandon that this was about to prove the most memorable meal of his life. Outwardly cool, he was so strangely excited that he had diligently to rehearse the precepts of his mentor. “Let Old Uncle do the talking,” had counseled the sage. To begin with, however, Urban Meyer went off at a tangent. The keen eyes fixed themselves upon a distant table, and then he said, in a tone low and deep: “It may interest you to know that the world’s biggest brain is in the room.” Brandon and Pomfret were duly impressed. “Indeed,” said Pomfret with becoming seriousness. “You mean the man over there?” said Brandon following the eyes of Urban Meyer. “Yes, the sallow one with a face like a Chicago ham.” “Where? Show me.” Pomfret’s curiosity was roused. Urban Meyer did not mistake geese for swans as a rule. “Straight ahead,” said Brandon. “The long, lean, pale man. That’s Murdwell the scientist--Gazelee Payne Murdwell who is giving his nights and days to making a worse hell of this planet than it is already.” “You know him?” said Urban Meyer. “He’s a neighbor of mine,” Brandon explained. “Personally I like him, but he won’t bear thinking about. He’s all new and all true I suppose?” He had the air of one seeking for information. “Sure.” It was Urban Meyer’s favorite word, but it seemed to do the work of many at this moment. “Murdwell’s the problem for the near future. He’s getting through to things that are best left alone. He’s the writing on the wall. The best that can happen to the human race just now is for Murdwell to be closed down.” The tone had a curious authority. Somehow it made a deep impression on Brandon.