It turned out later that Gran'pa had already approached half-a-dozen medical men on the question of the operation, but they had all refused to undertake such a case.
So the next day I had the following advertisement inserted in the Agony Column of the Times:—
IN THE INTERESTS OF SCIENCE.—Old gentleman of ninety-five, with A1 brains but B1 physique, desires to get into touch with a reliable and enterprising surgeon, who believes in the new theory of rejuvenation, with a view to immediate Glandular Graftings.
I must admit that the wording was reminiscent of the typical matrimonial appeal, but as the advertiser's identity was concealed from the British public by means of a box number, it seemed to matter very little what method was employed so long as the result was a success.
I am thankful to say that it was. In spite of my fears that professional etiquette might stand in the way, I received over twenty replies from medical men living in various parts of the country. All of them were willing, and even anxious, to perform the operation, but apparently not one was in possession of the necessary glands. This was an annoying detail, but such setbacks appear to be inevitable in the initial stages of all great enterprises. The day may come when interstitial glands will form part of the medical, or rather, physiological equipment of every practitioner in the land, but meanwhile we had to hustle for ourselves.
So I advertised for a monkey as well.
"Gorilla, chimpanzee or ourang-outang wanted at once," I scribbled on a scrap of notepaper.
Then I judiciously added:—
"For travelling showman. Must be healthy and virile. State price and how long the animal has been resident in England."
A couple of days later half-a-dozen replies were received and Gran'pa and I spent the evening in sorting out the most suitable doctor and ape, preparatory to bringing them together in this novel "triangle" of surgeon, man and monkey.