“Yes,” said Ah Ben, repeating the sentence slowly and emphasizing the words, “_I disregard all laws usually considered essential to living at all_!” Henley was silent for a minute in a vain effort to decide whether or not he were speaking seriously. He could not help remembering his abstinence from food, but at the time had not doubted the man had eaten between meals. “Then you certainly ought to know all about it,” he continued, relaxing into his former position, but quite unsettled as to Ah Ben's intention. “You must admit that I have had sufficient time to be an authority unto myself, if not to others,” added the old man. And then as he pressed the ashes down into the bowl of his pipe with his long emaciated fingers, and watched the little threads of smoke as they came curling out from under his thick moustache, Paul could only admit that the gravity of his bearing was inconsistent with a humorous interpretation of his words. “You interest me greatly,” resumed Henley, after scrutinizing the singular face before him for several minutes, in a kind of mesmeric fascination, “and I should like to ask what you mean by the cultivation of this occult power of which you spoke?” “It is only to be acquired by the supremest quality of self-control, as I told you yesterday,” answered Ah Ben; “but when once gained, no man would relinquish it for the gold of a thousand Solomons! You would have proof of what I tell you? Well, some day perhaps you will!” Henley started. The man had read his thoughts. It was the very question upon his lips. “You are a mind reader!” cried Paul. “How did you know I was going to ask you that?” Ah Ben made no answer; he did not even smile, but continued to gaze into the fire and blow little puffs of smoke toward the chimney. “You referred just now to the prize-fighter,” Paul resumed after a few minutes, “but I am going to squelch that argument.” “Yes,” Ah Ben replied, now with his eyes half closed, “you are going to tell me that, although the man may have been battered and bruised, he really feels no pain, because of the unnatural excitement of the moment; but there you only rivet the argument against yourself; for I maintain--and not from theory, but from knowledge--that that very excitement is an exaltation of the spirit, which may be cultivated and relied upon to conquer pain and the ills of the flesh forever!” “It would go far indeed if it could do all that, although I believe there is something in what you say, for in a small way I have seen it myself.” “Yes, we have all seen it in a small way; and does it not seem strange that men have never thought of cultivating it in a larger way, through the exercise of their will in controlling their minds and bodies? This exaltation of spirit is only attained through effort, or some great physical shock. It is the secret of all power; it conquers all pain, and makes disease impossible.” “Makes disease impossible!” cried Paul in astonishment.