“Being chained to the material,” he added, “it is very possible she may even prefer you to ME. The fleshly veil which yet so thickly clothes her higher principles, may obscure ME to her inner consciousness; in which case I must temporarily resign her. I may not claim her for several brief earth lives yet. For all this I am fully prepared. And should she not cognize ME for what I AM, I shall hence to India, and there, by contemplation in the sacred cave I shall astralize. I shall return again, and keep watch over her.” “Well, well, well,--that’s quite an idea, isn’t it!”--responded Bill. “No,”--as Lonnie felt in his vest pocket--tentatively,--“it’s my treat. The plan you mention isn’t more’n half bad--kind o’ lets us all out without any hard feelings. I know it will suit Imogene to a T. Come back from India any time--in the astral. You’ll find the latch-string out.” “You forget,” returned the Mystic mildly, even sadly, “that ONE--WHO--KNOWS requires neither latch-string nor pass key. “Such an one, as I AM--TO--BECOME, neither asks admission nor visits by invitation. These are they who function in the Universal and whose atomic particles respond to the WILL. These are they whose levitations are uncircumscribed, who moveth by Desire and where they listeth. If I go shall I return again? And if so, from whence and for why? And who shall let me in? Aha! Ah-ha!” Saying which the wise man of Kankakee turned, went softly out the door and gliding down Asylum Avenue sought the abode of the fascinating Typewriter. A Maiden so fair and a Guru so slight Conversed as they sat on the green: Alonzo the Seer was the name of the wight, And the maid was the Fair Imogene. CHAPTER IV. THE MANSARD ROOF. Again, for the second time, the student of the occult gazed upon his affinity; and again the lovely Typewriter, versed in the higher criticism of Chicago social life, sized up her caller with cosmopolitan grace. The meeting was relieved of embarrassment by the spontaneous interrogation of the city-bred business woman. “And what can we do for you today, Mr. Leffingwell?”--sweetly. “I have come, Miss Sheets,”--murmured Mr. Leffingwell, and he looked directly through the maiden at the wall paper,--“I have come to invite you, to implore you, to go with me to--to--to--stroll with me. Walls--walls--that is, some of them, have ears. I would be alone with you. There is much of moment to impart to you--to you alone. There is a secret--” “That catches me,”--broke in the beauty, and she rose, donning her picture hat hastily, and grabbing her long-handled umbrella and many-buttoned kids. “Well, come along, Mr. Leffingwell; I’m ready”--and the dear girl’s hand was on the hall door-knob. And the man and the maiden passed on down Asylum Avenue.