“Yes,” said Fletcher, “it is trying, especially for people like myself, who have to remain in London during these months.”

“You are in an office, no doubt,” said the Indian.

“Yes,” said Fletcher.

“And you are no doubt hard worked.”

“Our hours are not long,” Fletcher replied, “and I should not complain of overwork if I did not happen to suffer from—­well, I don’t know what it is, but I suppose they would call it nerves.”

“Yes,” said the Indian, “I could see that by your eyes.”

“I am a prey to sudden fits of abstraction,” said Fletcher, “they are growing upon me.  Sometimes in the office I forget where I am altogether for a space of about two or three minutes; people are beginning to notice it and to talk about it.  I have been to a doctor, and he said I needed change of air.  I shall have my leave in about a month’s time, and then perhaps I shall get some change of air, but I doubt if it will do me any good.  But these fits are annoying, and once something quite uncanny seemed to happen to me.”

The Indian showed great interest and asked for further details concerning this strange experience, and Fletcher told him all that he could recall—­for the memory of it was already dimmed—­of what had happened when he had telephoned that night.

The Indian was thoughtful for a while after hearing this tale.  At last he said:  “I am not a doctor, I am not even what you call a quack doctor—­I am a mere conjurer, and I gain my living by conjuring tricks and fortune-telling at the Exhibition which is going on in London.  But although I am a poor man and an ignorant man, I have an inkling, a few sparks in me of ancient knowledge, and I know what is the matter with you.”

“What is it?” asked Fletcher.

“You have the power, or something has the power,” said the Indian, “of detaching you from your actual body, and your astral body has been into another planet.  By your description I think it must be the planet Venus.  It may happen to you again, and for a longer period—­for a very much longer period.”

“Is there anything I can do to prevent it?” asked Fletcher.

“Nothing,” said the Indian.  “You can try change of air if you like, but,” he said with a smile, “I do not think it will do you much good.”

At that moment a train came in, and the Indian said good-bye and jumped into it.

On the next day, which was Monday, when Fletcher got to the office it was necessary for him to use the telephone with regard to some business.  No sooner had he taken the receiver off the telephone than he vividly recalled the minute details of the evening he had telephoned, when the strange experience had come to him.  The advertisement of Venus Soap that had hung in the telephone box in his house appeared distinctly before him, and as he thought of that he once more experienced a falling sensation which lasted only a fraction of a second, and rubbing his eyes he awoke to find himself in the tepid atmosphere of a green and humid world.