"Will you forgive an old man's question?" the Professor continued. "I am
one of the men of the world who are in earnest. My life is dedicated to
science. Science is at once my religion and my life. It seems to me that
you and I have something in common. You, too, move in the unusual ways.
Your life is dedicated to doing good amongst the unworthy of your sex.
Whether my brain approves of your efforts or not, you compel my
admiration--my most respectful admiration. May I, too, be permitted?"

He drew out a pocket-book and passed over towards her a little wad of
notes. She took them without a moment's hesitation. Her eyes, as she
thanked him, were filled with gratitude.

"It is so kind of you," she murmured. "We never have any hesitation in
accepting money. May I know your name?"

"It is not necessary," the Professor answered. "You can enter me," he
added, as he held open the door for her, "as a friend--or would you prefer
a pseudonym?"

"A pseudonym, if you please," she begged. "We have so many who send us
sums of money as friends. Anything will do."

The Professor glanced around the room.

"What pseudonym shall I adopt?" he ruminated. "Shall I say that an oak
sideboard gives you five hundred dollars? Or a Chippendale sofa? Or," he
added, his eyes resting for a moment upon the little box, "a black box?"

The two girls from the other side of the table started. Even Quest swung
suddenly around. The Professor, as though pleased with his fancy, nodded