mistake. Your predecessor in your present house, Mr Gurney-Brown,
was a subscriber to our agency, and our foolish clerks, ignoring
alike the dignity of the hyphen and the glory of military rank,
positively imagined that Major Brown and Mr Gurney-Brown were the
same person. Thus you were suddenly hurled into the middle of
another man's story."

"How on earth does the thing work?" asked Rupert Grant, with bright
and fascinated eyes.

"We believe that we are doing a noble work," said Northover
warmly. "It has continually struck us that there is no element in
modern life that is more lamentable than the fact that the modern
man has to seek all artistic existence in a sedentary state. If he
wishes to float into fairyland, he reads a book; if he wishes to
dash into the thick of battle, he reads a book; if he wishes to
soar into heaven, he reads a book; if he wishes to slide down the
banisters, he reads a book. We give him these visions, but we give
him exercise at the same time, the necessity of leaping from wall
to wall, of fighting strange gentlemen, of running down long
streets from pursuers--all healthy and pleasant exercises. We give
him a glimpse of that great morning world of Robin Hood or the
Knights Errant, when one great game was played under the splendid
sky. We give him back his childhood, that godlike time when we can
act stories, be our own heroes, and at the same instant dance and
dream."

Basil gazed at him curiously. The most singular psychological
discovery had been reserved to the end, for as the little business
man ceased speaking he had the blazing eyes of a fanatic.