“Notice, please,” said Bill, “that I am able at will to increase or decrease this current which prevents your escape from the sphere of attraction. You will see that I am thus able nicely to regulate your speed from the slow and comfortable to the dizzy and dangerous.” “Dangerous? Dangerous, did you say? I hardly understand you”--faltered the Mystic, paling as he spoke. “Let me illustrate,”--and the hand of the avenger sought the lever. The little monster whirled fiercely, increasing with each revolution both the speed and the terror of its victim. Faster and faster whirled the cylinder. Faster and faster flew the lately fascinating Seer. “Hold,--hold,--I--I--I--must ask--one--question,” shrilled brokenly upon the sparkling air. “Certainly,” responded Bill, lessening the current as he spoke. “I say, Bill--upon what prin--principle do--you--op--operate?” gasped the suddenly released gentleman. “I must know if it agrees with--with our sch--ool.” The man at the machine bowed graciously, and jauntily saluted his old chum. Bill was flattered. To be thus interrogated by one whose profession was wisdom, was a distinct compliment. He straightened himself and lifted his chin. “Helium,”--he said, in a loud, cheerful voice,--“that of which you are composed, I discover to be nothing more than a dephlogisticated condition of matter. Now this highly attenuated substance is (as you may, but probably do not know) highly susceptible to electrical forces. I further discover that by virtue of electro-dynamics we are able to convert this highly refined substance into hydrogen, a highly volatile metal. This, under increased pressure, is finally raised to the point of ignition. D’ye hear, my gay Gnani? For here’s where I get in my fine work. Let me repeat,--this highly volatile hydrogen is, or will presently be--raised to the point of ignition--Phlogiston is Restored and--_pish_--_you_ go.” “Horrible! horrible! but true, alas, too true,”--and the Mystic and his Mate bowed their heads in unison. “And, hear me still further, Mr. Psycho-Bunko-Hiero-Phanto,” continued Mr. Vanderhook remorselessly. “I’d have you know that the curriculum of your musty old schools in Hindustan never counted on a tussle with physical science. They go no further than the application of certain metaphysical forces to nonresistant physical substance, or noncompos gray matter of certain fool people I know. They never equip their alleged pupils to meet nor to resist an active and rational campaign on the lower planes. With all your tricks you Oriental fakirs aren’t in it with an Edison plant. You’re not in it with the twentieth century scientist, when he has a real ax to grind,”--and by way of illustration Bill increased the current and ground his teeth. Moved by his enemy’s science, rather than by his satire, Alonzo Leffingwell passed on his way--lamenting. But he returned again, and hung suspended at his tormentor’s pleasure.