"I remember once when I was a young man in the army," Payot remarked, "a rude fellow stood in my way as I was walking along the pavement with a young lady on my arm. I promptly hit him on the head with my stick, when he replied by giving me a terrible black eye with his fist. I ran after him, but the rascal was too quick for me, and he escaped. I had arranged to go to a fancy dress ball that night, attired as Romeo, and I had the costume specially made for me. Of course the costume had to be discarded, as I could not very well appear as a Romeo with a black eye. So what do you think I did? I got the costumier to white-wash my face all over, and dress me up as a pierrot. And a very handsome pierrot I made, I assure you. Ah! I was an uncommonly fine fellow in those days. Hullo," he added, looking at his watch, "Good gracious me, it is past ten. What have you three been doing since dinner?" "Oh, we have been entertained by the professor," said Marcel, smiling in spite of himself. "He has been giving us a discourse on spiritualism." "Ah, most interesting, most instructive I am sure," replied Payot. "M. Delapine knows the immense interest I take in those things. You know I have always maintained there is a great deal of truth in it, haven't I, Marcel?" "Oh, Lord, deliver us," said Marcel aside to Riche. "Melted butter isn't in it. I wonder what he'll say next. My word, isn't he coming round. Surely he's growing dotty," and Marcel screwed his monocle into his left eye and gazed at old Payot with a dubious smile. "Don't you remember Delapine's words when he hypnotised him?" asked Riche in a whisper. "Oh yes, of course I do. How very extraordinary! Everything Delapine says seems to come true to the letter. Well, who would have thought it," and then he added sotto voce, "It beats Alice in Wonderland." Delapine shut his eyes and placed his finger-tips together. "What are you thinking of, my dear professor?" asked Villebois. "Capital, capital," replied Delapine, rousing himself at the question and smiling with great satisfaction. "This is better than I expected. We shall have a great séance to-morrow--a great séance. Now I am sure of success," he continued as he watched the mental transformation of Payot. "The only discord I feared is removed. Harmony will prevail." "Will you take some more whisky, professor?" asked Villebois. "No, thanks, I am rather tired." "I shall 'whisky' to bed," interposed Marcel. "If I don't lie down, I shall soon have to lie up," he added with a laugh. "I feel bruised all over, like a cake of dough that has been pounded with a rolling-pin." Payot looked at him in astonishment, wondering what he referred to, and turned to Villebois for an explanation. "Oh, don't pay any attention to Marcel. I think at times he does not know himself what he means. You see," he added, "poets are quite different from ordinary mortals like us."