“Well, we have made a beginning,” he said, turning to pour out a drink.  “It is rather interesting.”

Julian was lighting a cigarette.

“Yes; it is—­very.” he answered.

Valentine gave him a brandy and soda; then, as if struck by a sudden thought, asked: 

“You really didn’t feel anything?”

“No.”

“Nor I. But then, Julian, why do we find it interesting?”

Julian looked puzzled.

“Hang it!  I don’t know,” he answered, after an instant of reflection.  “Why do we?  I wonder.”

“That is what I am wondering.”

He flicked the ash from his cigarette.

“But I don’t come to any conclusion,” he presently added, meditatively.  “We sit in the dark for an hour and a quarter, with our hands solemnly spread out upon a table; we don’t talk; the table doesn’t move; we hear no sound; we see nothing; we feel nothing that we have not felt before.  And yet we find the function interesting.  This problem of sensation is simply insoluble.  I cannot work it out.”

“It is awfully puzzling,” said Julian.  “I suppose our nerves must have been subtly excited because the thing was an absolute novelty.”

“Possibly.  But, if so, we are a couple of children, mere schoolboys.”

“That’s rather refreshing, however undignified.  If we sit long enough, we may even recover our long-lost babyhood.”

And so they laughed the matter easily away.  Soon afterwards, however, Julian got up to go home to his chambers.  Valentine went towards the door, intending to open it and get his friend’s coat.  Suddenly he stopped.

“Strange!” he exclaimed.

“What’s the row?”

“Look at the door, Julian.”

“Well?”

“Don’t you see?”

“What?”

“The curtain is half drawn back again.”

Julian gave vent to a long, low whistle.

“So it is!”

“It always does that when the door is opened.”

“And only then, of course?”

“Of course.”

“But the door hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

They regarded each other almost uneasily.  Then Valentine added, with a short laugh: 

“I can’t have drawn it thoroughly over the door when Wade went away.”

“I suppose not.  Well, good-night, Val.”

“Good-night.  Shall we sit again tomorrow?”

“Yes; I vote we do.”

Valentine let his friend out.  As he shut the front door, he said to himself: 

“I am positive I did draw the curtain thoroughly.”

He went back into the tentroom and glanced again at the curtain.

“Yes; I am positive.”

After an instant of puzzled wonder, he seemed to put the matter deliberately from him.

“Come along, Rip,” he said.  “Why, you are cold and miserable to-night!  Must I carry you then?”

He picked the dog up, turned out the light, and walked slowly into his bedroom.