“No—­why?”

“‘Cause I can’t stand that, tough as I be.  I lived wi’ a doctor once, and says he to me, ‘Simon, I want to speriment on ye,’ says he.  ’I’m tough ‘nough,’ says I.  ’I want to waccinate you ‘gainst cholera, hoopin’ cough, and small-pox,’ says he.  ’What’s that? give ’em to me?’ says I.  ‘No,’ says he, ‘but to prevent you from a hevin’ ’em.’  ’That’s yer sorts,’ says I. Well, gentlemen, he waccinated me, and I said to un, ‘Never no more, yer honour.’”

“Why?” asked I.

“‘Cause I’d rather hev cholera, hoopin’ cough, and small-pox all together than be waccinated.  Jes like women, you never know where they’ll break out.”

“Will you kindly sit down,” said Voltaire, “while I go to my room for a book?”

While he was gone I went to Simon, and spoke to him, and that gentleman got very communicative.

“I’m not overmich in love wi’ that chap,” he says; “and sure’s I’m a right-down Cockney, he hates you like pizen.  Give ’im a wide berth, yer honour, and doan’t hev nothin’ to do wi’ ’im.”

“Oh,” I replied, “he can’t hurt me.”

“Don’t know, yer honour.  You and he’s got your peepers fixed in the same place, and scuse me; but if you give ’im a chance, he’ll beat yer.  He’d charm a serpiant vith thews peepers o’ hisn.”

“Aren’t you afraid yourself, then?”

“He can’t hurt me, for I’m too tough, and I’m noan sighin’ for anybody, I ain’t; and I hain’t a got a good-lookin’ jib, and—­”

But here Voltaire entered the room and spoke to Tom Temple.

“Simon,” said Tom a second after, “what colour are the chestnut mare’s eyes?”

Simon heaved himself, struggled, looked vacant, and said dreamily, “They’re loike women, and—­waccination, you—­you—­” But a film came over his eyes, and he was unconscious.

Again there was deathly silence in the room, and all eyes were turned towards Voltaire, who had walked close to Simon Slowden.

“The man is not very susceptible,” said Voltaire, “consequently I cannot do so much with him as I should had he been more highly organized; but I can at least convince sceptics.  You will see,” he went on, “that I have not touched him, and yet he is no longer conscious.  I will now ask him any question, concerning either the dead or the living, that you may be inclined to ask.”

“I will ask a test question,” said Gertrude Forrest.  “What are the servants doing at this time?”

“The cook’s examinin’ a goose,” was the reply, “and the housemaid’s talking wi’ a chap as is just come from t’ village.”

He went on telling what the rest were doing; but Tom Temple immediately sent to the kitchen, and found that things were as was described.

“Where’s Dr. Sharp?” said Mrs. Temple, adding that they could easily find out the doctor’s present whereabouts the next day.

“He’s comin’ up here with his long-nosed pointer,” was the reply, “and ’ll be ’ere in a jiffy.”