The loft itself was higher than the boy had realized—there was but one large room in it, for on the farther side could be seen the shutters of the building’s outer wall. In the middle of the room at the back was a closet—for Pan Kreutz’s most valuable substances, Joseph decided, since it was fastened with chains as well as with a huge lock and key. The beams of the roof, sloping but slightly, were well above the height of a tall man, and were not of bare wood as is common in lofts and attics, but were plastered over with some thick white substance. In the center of the room stood a tripod supporting an iron basin and in it was burning some substance that gave a peculiar, pungent odor. The alchemist in his black robe and the student Tring in his leather jacket sat elbow to elbow before this basin. They were watching something that was burning there in flames of many colors. “It takes away my strength,” Joseph heard the alchemist tell Tring, “to experiment in the fashion which you have suggested. It has interested me, and I know that it has its fascination, but it is not, after all, in my sphere. I am an alchemist, one who seeks the truth above all things in the actions and reactions of material substances. I mix vinegar and sugar and soda, and there is immediately a bubbling and a change. Something new is created. I melt lead and silver and copper, and they form together some metal that is new.” “But are not these changes influenced also by the position of the stars in heaven?” asked Tring. “Yes, and no. The sea, I admit, seems to follow the pull of the moon. Harvests depend upon seasons and seasons sometimes seem to be servants of the movements of the heavenly bodies. But as to other things I know not. Besides, I am not an astrologer. I am an alchemist. The powers of the sky may be found by those who search the skies.” “But is not the conduct and life of man governed by the stars?” “That I leave to magicians and necromancers, as likewise I leave to them that hideous magic which makes compounds of cats’ paws, and owls’ eyes, and dead men’s fingers.” “But,” persisted the student, “you seek the Elixir of Life, do you not?” “No,” answered the alchemist, “although in regard to it I admit that I have much curiosity. If it is true that all things are subject to change, then one might change from old to young as well as from young to old if one could but find the laws to reverse the process of life. And as to this I do not doubt that a restorer of youth can be found. Yet I am not interested as are those who have lived vain lives and hope to do better it life may be relived.” “The Philosopher’s Stone, what think you of that?” Joseph noticed a distinct change in the student’s voice as he said this; his eyes shone with a greedy light, and his fingers seemed to curl perceptibly.