"Eh?"
"That's the name. I see him going back every morning."
Jenkins moved off, nodding mysteriously, as I stared at him through my glass. In his way, Billings was speaking words of comfort and all that sort of thing to the professor.
"Never mind; the law will get 'em for you," he reassured him.
"Ah! that's just where you are in error," sighed our guest. "The law, sir, will not get a single subject for me. In this age of unrestrained liberty of all classes, the law lends no aid whatever to science. It is not as it was in the glorious past when, under imperial patronage, Vesalius, the great father of anatomy, was protected when by mistake his scalpel cut the living heart of a Spanish grandee. Times worth while, gentlemen, those great days of supreme imperialism! Ah! there was no lack of material available if one stood in a little at court; one had only to designate a selection and the thing was done. Gracious, gentle times, my friends! Gone, alas, for ever! Such opportunities are impossible under a republic."
The professor shook his head and reached for his handkerchief again. But this time he only blew his nose.
"Tempora mutantur," he murmured regretfully, "Eh, gentlemen?"
"True," said Billings, pursing his lips. "Ah, how true!"
"By Jove, ought to be something done, you know," I declared.
"Out of millions, not a single human specimen available," groaned the professor dismally. "And my instruments ready for over a year."