"Gentlemen," he continued, "I know whereof I speak. It is true, I never
before thought of Peters in this connection. In the cases of my library,
the books stand two rows deep. Thousands of books have been carried into
my attic, to make room for newer books--I never need to glance twice at
a book. Of course I have Poe's works, and bound in morocco, too--the
grandest genius ever bestowed upon humanity by the prolific and liberal
hand of our Creator. Still, I never happened to read the grand and
mighty effort of that colossal intellect to which you refer--'The
Narrative of a Snorting Thing,' though I recall 'The Literary Life of
Thingum Bob.' But I am certain--certain as the unerring fiat of
Omnipotent Power--that this man Peters is within ten miles of us, and is
at this moment a mighty ill man--almost ready, in fact, to visit a land
from which he will be little likely to return. I refer to 'The
undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns.' By
superhuman efforts I have kept this man Peters alive now long past the
time-limit set by his Creator for him to go--I mean, three score and ten
years; but even I and science have our limitations, and the beginning of
the end is at hand."

By this time Doctor Castleton was pacing up and down the room, stopping
now and then to look at an engraving on the wall, taking up and
replacing books, seeing everything. I could not but feel that already
the curiosity which had impelled him to "run in" was satisfied, and that
he would soon be going. A minute after his last recorded words, Dirk
Peters seemed to have dropped completely from his mind. I was wholly
absorbed with the thought that Dirk Peters might be within our reach;
and that if he really was, it was possible that we might learn whether
Pym and he had reached the South Pole, and if so, what they had there
discovered. It was plainly evident that the mind of Doctor Bainbridge
was deeply engaged with the same subject. I was anxious to know what he