matched my necessity. A host must expect to entertain his guests. I
walked up the steps and rang the bell.

Instantly the door opened, and a most respectable looking serving-
man confronted me.

"Mr. Indiman will see you presently," he said, before I had a
chance to get out a word. "This way, sir."

The house was of the modern American basement type, and I was
ushered into a small reception-room on the right of the entrance
hall. "Will you have the Post, sir? Or any of the illustrated
papers? Just as you please, sir; thank you."

The man withdrew, and I sat looking listlessly about me, for the
room, while handsomely furnished, had an appearance entirely
commonplace.

Five and ten minutes passed, and I began to grow impatient. I
remembered that Jeckley's appointment had been for eight o'clock,
and for obvious considerations I did not wish that he should find
me waiting here. It was eight o'clock now, and I would abide Mr.
Indiman's lordly pleasure no longer. I rose to go; the electric
bell sounded.

I could hear Jeckley's high-pitched voice distinctly; he seemed to
be put out about something; he spoke impatiently, even angrily.

"But this is 4020 Madison Avenue, isn't it? Mr. Indiman--I was
asked to call--Mr. Jeckley, of the Planet."