"Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time."



Hardinge is hardly gone, before another--a far heavier--step sounds
in the passage outside the professor's door. It is followed by a
knock, almost insolent in its loudness and sharpness.

"What a hole you do live in," says Sir Hastings, stepping into the
room, and picking his way through the books and furniture as if
afraid of being tainted by them. "Bless me! what strange beings you
scientists are. Rags and bones your surroundings, instead of good
flesh and blood. Well, Thaddeus--hardly expected to see _me_ here,
eh?"

"You want me?" says the professor. "Don't sit down there--those
notes are loose; sit here."

"Faith, you've guessed it, my dear fellow, I _do_ want you, and most
confoundedly badly this time. Your ward, now, Miss Wynter! Deuced
pretty little girl, isn't she, and good form too? Wonderfully
bred--considering."

"I don't suppose you have come here to talk about Miss Wynter's good
manners."

"By Jove! I have though. You see, Thaddeus, I've about come to the