As I studied him I couldn't help feeling that I had seen his face before. And then I suddenly saw the reason of it. He had that peculiar, much married, walrus-moustached appearance of Bairnsfather's "Old Bill." He was a rather short, thick-set man, too, and wore the "Old Bill" expression of eternal, philosophical contentment. Sitting there in the arm-chair, with one stumpy leg crossed over the other, he might easily have been this terrible "Fragment of the Great War" come to life. But the moment he spoke, the similarity vanished. His moustache bristled until it stood out nearly at right angles, his eyes flamed with that hidden fire, and his whole attitude became one of extreme animation. He seemed to _compel_ the listener's attention. And yet, the very second he ceased speaking, the fire died down, the moustache subsided and drooped, his body became listless. Once more, he was poor "Old Bill"--harmless, inoffensive, and soothing to the senses. It was certainly an extraordinary accomplishment and had no doubt taken years to acquire; but I failed to see exactly what all this had to do with hunting apes in Africa. Gran'pa watched these signs of facial birth and decay with enthusiastic approval. "D'you see the idea, George?" he asked. "I'm bothered if I do." "It's as old as the hills--and yet it's new." I racked my brains for an explanation, but found none. "The only thing I can think of," I said at last, "is that you intend hypnotically suggesting to the aged that they should hand themselves over body and soul to the pioneers of this new Rejuvenation Cult." "By Jove!" he laughed. "That's not bad, Stringer! Eh?" "Old Bill" bristled--and then grinned expansively. This expression of gentle mirth looked very quaint--the most anti-Old Billish thing one could imagine. It was uncanny. "Why not enlighten me?" I asked, somewhat testily. "I'd rather not--just at present," answered Gran'pa. "You know how I hate the thought of failure, George. There's a possibility that this may end in failure. . . . I hope not, because, if it succeeds, it will be the keystone of the whole system. Still, I'll tell you what we'll do. You shall come down to Bristol with us this evening and see how the theory works." Beyond this I could not get. Gran'pa was adamant, and Stringer was sphinx-like. To see them, one would have thought that I was a mere outsider and that they had been life-long friends. I was tired, however, of showing my incessant curiosity in Gran'pa's plans, and so I acquiesced. "Very well," I said. "I'll come!" Gran'pa nodded. "At the same time, George," he remarked, "I think that you might hand in your resignation at the office to-day. We're going to be very busy during the next few weeks. Now that Mr. Stringer has arrived, there is no time to be lost."