“You will!”

The words rang out involuntarily.  It almost seemed as if the man would spring with them straight at the other’s throat.  But he controlled himself, and smiling bitterly, added: 

“I know the marks of human struggle.  I have read countenances from my birth.  I’ve had to, and only one has baffled me—­hers.  But we are going to read that too and very soon.  We are going to learn, you and I, what lies behind that innocent manner and her rude, uncultivated ways.  We are going to sound that deafness.  I say we,” he impressively concluded, “because I have reconsidered my first impulse and now propose to allow you to participate openly, and without the secrecy you object to, in all that remains to be done to make our contemplated test a success.  Will that please you?  May I count on you now?”

“Yes,” replied Ransom, returning to his old monosyllable.

“Very well, then, see if you can make a scrawl like this.”

Pulling a piece of red chalk from his pocket, he drew a figure of a somewhat unusual character on the bare top of the table between them; then he handed the chalk over to Ransom, who received it with a stare of wonder not unmixed with suspicion.

“I’m not an adept at drawing,” said he, but made his attempt, notwithstanding, and evidently to Hazen’s satisfaction.

“You’ll do,” said he.  “That’s a mystic symbol once used by Georgian and myself in place of our names in all mutual correspondence, and on the leaves of our school-books and at the end of our exercises.  It meant nothing, but the boys and girls we associated with thought it did and envied us the free-masonry it was supposed to cover.  A ridiculous make-believe which I rate at its full folly now, but one which cannot fail to arouse a hundred memories in Georgian.  We will scrawl it on her door, or rather you shall, and according to the way she conducts herself on seeing it, we shall know in one instant what you with your patience and trust in time may not be able to arrive at in weeks.”

Ransom recalled some of the tests he had himself employed, many of which have been omitted from this history, and shrugged his shoulders mentally, if not physically.  If Hazen noted this evidence of his lack of faith, he remained entirely unaffected by it, and in a few minutes everything had been planned between them for the satisfactory exercise of what Hazen evidently regarded as a crucial experiment.  Ransom was about to proceed to take the first required step, when they heard a disturbance in front, and the coach came driving up with a great clatter and bang and from it stepped the lean, well-groomed figure of Mr. Harper.

“Bah!” exclaimed Hazen with a violent gesture of disappointment.  “There comes your familiar.  Now I suppose you will cry off.”

“Not necessarily,” returned Ransom.  “But this much is certain.  I shall certainly consult him before hazarding this experiment.  I am not so sure of myself or—­pardon me—­of yourself as to take any steps in the dark while I have at hand so responsible a guide as the man whom you choose to call my familiar.”