He also stated that, instead of slaughtering the gorillas which were captured, their thyroid glands would be replaced by similar ones taken from goats. When the gorillas had recovered from the operation they would be conveyed back to the jungle and given their freedom again. That was as near to humanitarianism as one could possibly get. . . . Finally, he introduced me as his great-grandson (the "brains of the movement!"), Dr. Croft as the surgeon-in-chief, and Stringer as the animal magnetist. "Gentlemen," he concluded, without any unnecessary peroration, "I thank you for your patience and attention." Loud and prolonged applause--followed by much coughing. So ended one of the most momentous speeches in history. Descending from the platform, Dr. Croft and Gran'pa passed into the little anteroom at the back of the hall, where the medical examination was to be held, while Stringer and I busied ourselves with personally conducted tours round the photographic exhibits. We finished this last in about an hour and a half, but the examination, with its rationed twenty minutes per candidate, promised to take three or four days at least. Arrangements were accordingly made for further appointments at Dr. Croft's surgery and, at 5.30 p.m., the assembly dispersed and Gran'pa, Stringer and I returned home. "Any trouble with the sceptics?" asked Gran'pa, as we sat down to supper. "Yes!" said Stringer, to my great surprise. "There were five or six of them a bit rocky, but I managed to get their eye when I was talking--and put matters right at once." "Sort of . . . convinced them . . . eh?" chortled Gran'pa between his munches. "That old chap with the let-us-pray whiskers was one of them?" "Yes! He was a bit of a handful at first, but came round in the end, like a little child." "Good . . . ! By the way, George, those whiskers'll never do. They're insanitary and ugly things--although I once wore them myself. We must get these people shaved. It'll tone them up and be a good start. Give them more confidence--more freedom. . . . Nice lettuce, this! I shall miss the garden out in Africa, George." When Stringer had retired I thought it was time to question Gran'pa once more on the progress of his love suit with Sally. He had neither mentioned her name nor seen her for a whole week. "Everything is going beautifully, Gran'pa," I observed. "To-morrow, I'm fixing up about the steamer, and on Thursday the 'planes are leaving for Libreville. With luck, we should be able to start by the fifth of next month at the latest. Apparently, the only thing still undecided is whether Miss Froud joins us." "I shall get her answer by the morning's post," said Gran'pa, in even tones. It was evident that he was suffering keenly from the suspense and I admired his quiet courage. "I shall come with you in any case. This was made perfectly clear to her. As I told her, if she decides to join us she will have the honor of being the first lady member of the club."