this in the mechanism in a manner reminiscent of a roll of paper in a
nineteenth century printing machine. Then they ran the entire thing on
its easy, noiseless bearings across the room to a remote corner where a
twisted cable looped rather gracefully from the wall. They made some
connexion and the machine became energetic and swift.

"What is that doing?" asked Graham, pointing with the empty glass to the
busy figures and trying to ignore the scrutiny of the new comer. "Is
that--some sort of force--laid on?"

"Yes," said the man with the flaxen beard.

"Who is _that_?" He indicated the archway behind him.

The man in purple stroked his little beard, hesitated, and answered in
an undertone, "He is Howard, your chief guardian. You see, Sire--it's
a little difficult to explain. The Council appoints a guardian and
assistants. This hall has under certain restrictions been public. In
order that people might satisfy themselves. We have barred the
doorways for the first time. But I think--if you don't mind, I will
leave him to explain."

"Odd!" said Graham. "Guardian? Council?" Then turning his back on the
new comer, he asked in an undertone, "Why is this man _glaring_ at me? Is
he a mesmerist?"

"Mesmerist! He is a capillotomist."

"Capillotomist!"