hanging on to the idea like anything."

"But what do they propose to do?"

Winkles shrugged his shoulders and threw out his hands. "Form a
Society," he said, "and fuss. They want to make it illegal to
manufacture this Herakleophorbia--or at any rate to circulate the
knowledge of it. I've written about a bit to show that Caterham's idea
of the stuff is very much exaggerated--very much exaggerated indeed, but
that doesn't seem to check it. Curious how people are turning against
it. And the National Temperance Association, by-the-bye, has founded a
branch for Temperance in Growth."

"Mm," said Bensington and stroked his nose.

"After all that has happened there's bound to be this uproar. On the
face of it the thing's--_startling_."

Winkles walked about the room for a time, hesitated, and departed.

It became evident there was something at the back of his mind, some
aspect of crucial importance to him, that he waited to display. One days
when Redwood and Bensington were at the flat together he gave them a
glimpse of this something in reserve.

"How's it all going?" he said; rubbing his hands together.

"We're getting together a sort of report."

"For the Royal Society?"