Mr. Vanderhook vouchsafed no explanation. Next day an extra lock was put on his laboratory door.
Days rolled on, making up the weeks. The weeks expanded into months. The months rounded up a year, and yet there was no change in the Vanderhook home. No change, merely an accentuation of the old condition. No change, merely a closer absorption of the lady and her Llama. Only an increased activity on the part of the man in the cellar.
Mrs. and Mr. V. seldom met, except at meals. From these their guest usually absented himself. Having neither the need nor the desire for food, it wearied him to observe the processes involved. To see his idol feeding grated upon his super-refined senses. This process of reinforcing the fires of physical life is not attractive to astral vision. Even a lady looks rather like an animated hopper than an Intelligent Being.
Between meals, however, the Llama and the Lady-Bird lost no time.
Nor Bill.
CHAPTER IX.
DRAWING A CORK.
“My ownest, I must to Hindustan.”