Reading. Suddenly the Philosopher looked up. He spoke to himself.
"Everything is ready," he said, and pressed a button by his side.
There was a sound as of a Continent expectorating, a distant nose
seemed to twang, the door opened, and a tall lantern-jawed gentleman,
wearing a goat-beard and an expression of dauntless cunning, stepped
into the room.

"I guess you were waiting round for me," said Colonel ZEDEKIAH D.
GOBANG (for it was indeed he), and sat down in an empty armchair, as
if nothing had happened.

The Philosopher appeared not to notice. "Next character, please,"
he said, pulling out a long stop, and placing his square leg on the
wicket which gave admission to his laboratory, while he waited for the
entrance of the Third Man. There came a murmur like the buzz of a ton
of blasting powder, in a state of excitement. A choir of angels seemed
to whisper "Beefsteak and Pale Ale," as Lord JOHN BULLPUP dashed,
without a trace of emotion, into the room, and sneezed three times
without stopping to wipe his boots on the mat.

"One more," said the Philosopher. He hurled himself, feet first, at
the ceiling, knocked his head against the floor, and called down the
tube. "_J'y suis!_" came the answer, and the typical, light-hearted
Frenchman, M. le Docteur REVERSI, with his thousand thunders, and his
blue lower chest, tripped jauntily up to the other three. "And now,"
remarked the Philosopher, "we have got the lot complete. The story can
start. Hurry up! Hark forrard! _En avant!_"

CHAPTER II.