I meditated.  Naturally, I wanted to think the matter over thoroughly before anything decisive was said.  I was generally ready enough for business in those days, and selling always attracted me; but in the first place it was not my bungalow, and even if I sold it to him at a good price I might get inconvenienced in the delivery of goods if the current owner got wind of the transaction, and in the second I was, well—­undischarged.  It was clearly a business that required delicate handling.  Moreover, the possibility of his being in pursuit of some valuable invention also interested me.  It occurred to me that I would like to know more of this research, not with any dishonest intention, but simply with an idea that to know what it was would be a relief from play-writing.  I threw out feelers.

He was quite willing to supply information.  Indeed, once he was fairly under way the conversation became a monologue.  He talked like a man long pent up, who has had it over with himself again and again.  He talked for nearly an hour, and I must confess I found it a pretty stiff bit of listening.  But through it all there was the undertone of satisfaction one feels when one is neglecting work one has set oneself.  During that first interview I gathered very little of the drift of his work.  Half his words were technicalities entirely strange to me, and he illustrated one or two points with what he was pleased to call elementary mathematics, computing on an envelope with a copying-ink pencil, in a manner that made it hard even to seem to understand.  “Yes,” I said, “yes.  Go on!” Nevertheless I made out enough to convince me that he was no mere crank playing at discoveries.  In spite of his crank-like appearance there was a force about him that made that impossible.  Whatever it was, it was a thing with mechanical possibilities.  He told me of a work-shed he had, and of three assistants—­originally jobbing carpenters—­whom he had trained.  Now, from the work-shed to the patent office is clearly only one step.  He invited me to see those things.  I accepted readily, and took care, by a remark or so, to underline that.  The proposed transfer of the bungalow remained very conveniently in suspense.

At last he rose to depart, with an apology for the length of his call.  Talking over his work was, he said, a pleasure enjoyed only too rarely.  It was not often he found such an intelligent listener as myself, he mingled very little with professional scientific men.

“So much pettiness,” he explained; “so much intrigue!  And really, when one has an idea—­a novel, fertilising idea—­I don’t want to be uncharitable, but—­”