His face was pale, his mouth
sensitive, his smile almost womanly in its sweetness. His clothes, and a
general air of abstraction, seemed rather to indicate the clerical
profession. His forehead, however, disclosed as he lifted his hat, was the
forehead of a scholar.
"I am very proud to make your acquaintance again, Professor," Quest said.
"Glad to know, too, that you hadn't quite forgotten me."
"My dear sir," the Professor declared, as he released the other's hand
with seeming reluctance, "I have thought about you many times. Your doings
have always been of interest to me. Though I have been lost to the world
of civilisation for so long, I have correspondents here in New York to
keep me in touch with all that is interesting. You have made a great name
for yourself, Mr. Quest. You are one of those who have made science your
handmaiden in a wonderful profession."
"You are very kind, Professor," Quest observed, flicking the ash from his
cigar.
"Not at all," the other insisted. "Not at all. I have the greatest
admiration for your methods."
"I am sorry," Quest remarked, "that our first meeting here should be under
such distressing circumstances."
The Professor nodded gravely. He glanced towards his brother, who was
talking to an acquaintance a few feet away.
"It has been a most melancholy occasion," he admitted, his voice shaking
with emotion. "Still, I felt it my duty to support my brother through the
trial. Apart from that, you know, Mr.
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