“I should not, my lord. Why should you mention the death of what you are not quite sure ever existed? The little dilettante was an optical delusion of Society’s over-heated brain. When the brain fever was cured, the delusion went; and no one now could remember the existence of the little mannikin.”
“Next week we open the Palace of Happiness. Dick, I dread it.”
“You need not, my lord. Step by step you have led that worthy John Bull through the labyrinths of Utopia, and all the way he has marvelled at the easy roads. Dear old, ingenuous John Bull patted your back, expressing his joy at being in the company of a sane mind who knew that two and two made four.”
“Ah! but I quake, Dan, when I think he will soon find out that very often two and two make five. What will John Bull do to me when he sees that I have played a trick upon him?”
“The last lesson will be easier to teach than were the first ones, my lord. There is something in the character of John Bull which facilitates the work of reform; whilst you are instructing him, he labours under the delusion that it is he who is teaching you a lesson. Look at all that we have already achieved: hygiene has reformed the race, physical pain has well-nigh disappeared; and next week we are to be in possession of the greatest invention of all, by means of which we shall be able to read the inner souls of our fellow-creatures. On that day we shall say Eureka. Think of it, my lord, realise the grandeur of that invention! The object and subject will be one, appearance and reality will be seen in their whole; in one word, mind and matter will be united.”
“My dear Dan, I know that no happiness can ever be lasting until one soul can penetrate another. But how ever will the Britisher take this invention? You know his susceptibilities, his deep love for self-isolation, how he hates to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his horror of letting any of his fellow-creatures guess his inner emotion. I cannot help being anxious.”
“Do not be faint-hearted, my lord. John Bull will receive your last message with the greatest composure. He will work out his own salvation, with the firm belief that he is only carrying out his own plans on a logical basis.”
“Here we are at Hertford Street, Dick; I am going to see Sir Richard. You might go to the Crematorium.”
“By Jove, my lord! I had quite forgotten the poor little body!” ejaculated Danford, and the two men parted.