flushed, and I noted even then the swift alacrity of his step.

"It's done," he cried, and gripped my hand, speaking very fast;
"it's more than done. Come up to my house and see."

"Really?"

"Really!" he shouted. "Incredibly! Come up and see."

"And it does--twice?

"It does more, much more. It scares me. Come up and see the stuff.
Taste it! Try it! It's the most amazing stuff on earth." He gripped
my arm and, walking at such a pace that he forced me into a trot,
went shouting with me up the hill. A whole char-a-banc-ful of people
turned and stared at us in unison after the manner of people in
chars-a-banc. It was one of those hot, clear days that Folkestone
sees so much of, every colour incredibly bright and every outline
hard. There was a breeze, of course, but not so much breeze as
sufficed under these conditions to keep me cool and dry. I panted for
mercy.

"I'm not walking fast, am I?" cried Gibberne, and slackened his pace
to a quick march.

"You've been taking some of this stuff," I puffed.

"No," he said. "At the utmost a drop of water that stood in a beaker
from which I had washed out the last traces of the stuff. I took
some last night, you know. But that is ancient history, now."