“But what about the mystery of hibernation,” I persisted. “Is that not a similar arrestation of life? Curious in the larger forms of animal life, more and more inexplicable as we descend into the reptiles and bacterial phenomena.” “Strange you should have mentioned hibernation,” he said with an expression in his eyes that struck me. I taxed him with concealing his real opinion. “What is true to any form of life may be possible to all,” I continued. “We need not accept all the stories of toads being shut up for ten--twenty years, but the authentic records are startling enough.” “Very.” “And is not hibernation a state of induced catalepsy--self hypnotism if you will?” He admitted at last with a glance over his shoulder that, _theoretically_ (again he dwelt on the word) there was ground for speculation. Then having sworn me into secrecy, he disclosed to me that he had long considered the problem, that in fact he had constructed a machine with which he intended to conduct certain experimental tests with animals. The hypnotic state of catalepsy, he explained, was really so essential that unless some human being could be induced to make the experiment he had doubts of arriving at any conclusions of significance. “What a pity you are young, happily married and possessed of an excellent liver,” he concluded looking at me hungrily. “Think what it would be to wake up in another century.” I rose with a chill in my back, exclaiming: “Sachaloff, you _are_ serious!” “Theoretically, theoretically,” he mumbled. “But does such a machine exist?” I asked doubtfully, knowing his reputation as a practical joker. “Come tomorrow to the laboratory, and see for yourself.” “Would it be safe?” I exclaimed laughing. “Come armed then,” he replied smiling. “However, John,” he continued glancing at the table, “your wine was good, too good. Remember that the conversation was not serious.” “Except theoretically.” “Quite so. Quite so.” * * * * * I left the Club about four o’clock and proceeded homeward by way of Park Avenue. I had hardly gone a block when a familiar voice called me and I looked up into the charming eyes of Kitty Dalgleesh. “Why, John, you were in the clouds,” she exclaimed laughingly. “What can be worrying you, the happily married man?” “Perhaps I was worrying about you,” I said maliciously, for I was sensitive to the jibes of my friends at my complete and astonishing domestication. “How so?” “You are approaching a dreadful spinsterhood.” “How nasty. Just because I wouldn’t rush into marriage with you?” My eyebrows went up at this impertinence, but Kitty was irresistible with her dimple and I yielded to temptation. “Seriously, why don’t you start marrying?” I said drawing her arm through mine. “Seriously, I have never found anyone I liked better than you.” “I tried to convince you of that--you remember.”