“Sure thing.”

“Then if I could only get hold of my end of the wire I could—­ah—­call her up?”

“I believe that’s the idea.”

“And—­she’s for muh?”

“So they say.”

“Is—­is there any way to get a look at her first?”

“You’d have to take her anyway, sometime.”

“But suppose I didn’t like her?”

The two young men sat laughing for a few moments, then Brown went on: 

“You see, Smith, my interview with her was such a curious episode that about all I did was to listen to what she was saying, so I don’t know how details are worked out.  She explained to me that The Green Mouse Society has just been formed, not only for the purpose of psychical research, but for applying practically and using commercially the discovery of the psychic currents.  That’s what The Green Mouse is trying to do:  form itself into a company and issue stocks and bonds——­”

“What?”

“Certainly.  It sounds like a madman’s dream at first, but when you come to look into it—­for instance, think of the millions of clients such a company would have.  As example, a young man, ready for marriage, goes to The Green Mouse and pays a fee.  The Green Mouse sorts out, identifies, and intercepts the young man’s own particular current, hitches his subconscious self to it, and zip!—­he’s at one end of an invisible telephone and the only girl on earth is at the other....  What’s the matter with their making a quick date for an introduction?”

Smith said slowly:  “Do you mean to tell me that any sane person came to you in your office with a proposition to take stock in such an enterprise?”

“She did not even suggest it.”

“What did she want, then?”

“She wanted,” said Brown, “a perfectly normal, unimaginative business man who would volunteer to permit The Green Mouse Society to sort out his psychic current, attach him to it, and see what would happen.”

“She wants to experiment on you?”

“So I understand.”

“And—­you’re not going to let her, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—­it’s idiotic!” said Smith, warmly.  “I don’t believe in such things—­you don’t, either—­nobody does—­but, all the same, you can’t be perfectly sure in these days what devilish sort of game you might be up against.”

Brown smiled.  “I told her, very politely, that I found it quite impossible to believe in such things; and she was awfully nice about it, and said it didn’t matter what I believed.  It seems that my name was chosen by chance—­they opened the Telephone Directory at random and she, blindfolded, made a pencil mark on the margin opposite one of the names on the page.  It happened to be my name.  That’s all.”

“Wouldn’t let her do it!” said Smith, seriously.

“Why not, as long as there’s absolutely nothing in it?  Besides, if it pleases her to have a try why shouldn’t she?  Besides, I haven’t the slightest intention or desire to woo or wed anybody, and I’d like to see anybody make me.”