A young man so prominent in the town as Orson Vane had naturally a very large list of acquaintances. He knew, in the fashionable phrase, "everybody," and "everybody" knew him. His acquaintances ranged beyond the world of fashion; the theatre, the turf, and many other regions had denizens who knew Orson Vane and held him in esteem. He had always lived a careful, well-mannered life; his name had never been in the newspapers save in the inescapable columns touching society. When he was ready to proceed with the experiment of the mirror, the largeness of his social register was at once a pleasure and a pain. There were so many, so many! It was evident that he must use the types most promising in eccentricity; he must adventure forth in company with the strangest souls, not the mere ordinary ones. Sitting in the twilight of his rooms one day, it occurred to him that he was now ripe for his first decision. Whose soul should he seize? That was the question. He had spent a week or so perfecting plans, stalling off awkward episodes, schooling his servants. There was no telling what might not happen. He picked up a newspaper. A name caught his eye; he gave a little laugh. "The very man!" he told himself, "the very man. Society's court fool; it will be worth something to know what lies under his cap and bells." He scrawled a note, enclosed it, and rang for Nevins. "Have that taken, at once, to Mr. Reginald Hart. And then, presently, have a hansom called and let it wait nearby." "Reggie will be sure to come," he said, when alone. "I've told him there was a pretty woman here." He felt a nervous restlessness. He paced his room, fingering the frames of his prints, trying the cord of his new mirror, adjusting the blinds of the windows. He tingled with mental and physical expectation. He wondered whether nothing, after all, would be the result. How insane it was to expect any such thing to happen as Vanlief had vapored of! This was the twentieth century rather than the tenth; miracles never happened. Yet how fervently he wished for one! To feel the soul of another superimposing itself upon his own; to know that he had committed the grandest larceny under heaven, the theft of a soul, and to gain, thereby, complete insight into the spiritual machinery of another mortal! Nevins returned, within a little time, bringing word that Mr. Hart had been found at home, and would call directly. Vane pushed the new mirror to a position where it would face the door. He told Nevins not to enter the room after Mr. Hart; to let him enter, and let the curtain fall behind him. He took up a position by a window and waited. The minutes seemed heavy as lead. The air was unnaturally still. At last he heard Nevins, in gentle monosyllables. Another voice, high almost to falsetto, clashed against the stillness. Then the curtain swung back.