“Turn about is fair play and now that you have given a word picture of me I’ll give one of you. As I remember our meeting it was like this: I was hurrying up Broadway one morning when suddenly a young soldier stepped abruptly in front of me thereby barring any farther progress on my part. I observed he had a trim fighting figure and wore the uniform we love so well. He wore puttees and limped somewhat but from the medals he wore on his breast I judged that he had met the enemy and that they were his—and ours.
“His was a fine, heroic face and the very way his overseas cap set on the side of his head, his smiling eyes, his hearty laugh and the firm, smooth grasp of his hand was enough to show me that he was one of the brave boys from over there who had caught ‘the torch from failing hands and held it high in Flanders fields.’
“‘Don’t you remember me, Mr. Collins?’ he cried. ‘I’m Jack Heaton, and you used to let me make things in your laboratory over in Newark when I was a kid!’
“‘Of course I remember you but, my, how you have grown. I never would have known you. You were rather a frail chap then and now you’re such a powerfully built young fellow.’ And then we talked about you and all your experiences since I last saw you. I told you that you ought to write a book and you said that there wasn’t much to write, and that if it was done I’d have to do it for you.
“Then we agreed we’d collaborate, you to furnish the experiences and I to write them out and I wanted to give you whatever was made from the sale of the book and that I would take the glory of having written it for my share of the profits; but you wouldn’t have it any other way but that we would divvy fifty-fifty.”
“That part was all right,” put in Jack, “but what made a hit with me was that you said you knew a publisher who would take the book and forthwith we drew up a provisional table of contents. Then we went over to your publisher; you explained the idea to the editor and gave him the table of contents and we got the contract the next day. And do you know, Mr. Collins, that my leg began to feel better right away!”
“That was some weeks ago, Jack, but I’ve enjoyed your company so much and have been so interested in what you’ve told me I wish we had it all to do over again. Well, Jack, we must to work again.”
“All right, but before we get busy I want to tell you of a séance I once had with King Solomon. Do you believe in spirits—in wireless spirits?”
“Heard of all kinds of wireless and several kinds of spirits but don’t know the breed called wireless spirits,” I admitted.
“I was introduced to one in London. One evening an operator from one of the Red Star liners who was interested in magic, spiritualism and all that sort of thing, wanted me to go with him to see a performance of Maskelyn and Devant’s Mysteries at St. George’s Hall in Langham Place, W. C.