It is undeniably pleasant to be sitting here in the club dining-room sharing a ruddy duck and a bottle of burgundy. Yes, and to feel the cares, the disappointments, the burdens of life dropping off one by one; to be able to dismiss them with a nod as one gives an unfortunate beggar his conge. Ills that one need not bear; evils that it is no longer necessary to endure--they have all been eliminated by the simple process of excluding from the spectrum the ultra blue-and-violet rays. A palpable evasion, of course. Call it immoral, if you will, and I shall not lift the gauntlet. Why should we quarrel over phrases when it is only required to return thanks to the good Dr. Magnus for his beneficent discovery? That is enough for me at least. Carpe diem, or, more precisely, noctem. It was Dr. Magnus himself who later on introduced us to Chivers in the common room--Chivers, a little man of Semitic physiognomy, with a hard, knobbed face and a screw of black beard. He addressed himself effusively to Indiman, while the doctor and I remained spectators, silent but interested. "A dealer in adventures, a specialist in the grotesque--ah, I like that, Mr. Indiman. The rest of us"--this with a gesture inexpressibly mean and fawning--"prefer to haggle over the lion's skin after it has been cured and dressed. It's a mere question of temperament, dear sir." "What have you to say to me?" inquired Indiman, abruptly. I could see that he wanted to kick him. "I have an adventure--of the first class. I desire to dispose of it." "Yes." "A noble, a surpassing adventure. Moreover, a commercial opening that is not to be despised--fifty per cent on your capital every six months." "Yes." "I offer you, then, my well-established business of adjuster of averages, good-will and office fixtures included." "But I never even heard of such a profession. I know nothing about averages and their adjustment." "What difference! It is the adventure that particularly concerns you, is it not? The business--pouf! it runs itself." "And the terms?" "I make them ridiculously easy. You are to take over the business, including the lease of my offices in the Barowsky Brothers' bank building, William H. Seward Square. In return for this accommodation I am prepared to pay you the sum of ten thousand dollars." Mr. Chivers grinned cheerfully as he concluded this astounding proposition. He pulled ten new one-thousand-dollar bills from his waistcoat-pocket and laid them on the table. Indiman regarded the little man thoughtfully. "You have been in business for your health?" he inquired, with an affectation of polite interest. "You have hit it exactly," returned the imperturbable Chivers. "I was pretty rocky when I first went to William H. Seward Square. But the air in that Yiddish country--wonderful, dear sir. Regard me; punch, poke, pound where and how you like. Sound as a bell you'll find me. Now I pass on. I yield place to you. The honor, dear sir, is mine."