“I am smelling human flesh. There is some one present.”
To this the whisky-jug replied, while grinning from ear to ear:
“Who knows but it may be Mr Schneider, or his ghost.”
“Mr Schneider has no ghost,” said the baboon. “If we were to find one, we would have to destroy it immediately, to save the reputation of science.”
“I am quite sure that something of that kind is hidden somewhere,” replied the nut-cracker, and turning to the baboon, he asked: “Do you see anything?”
“Seeing is deceptive,” answered the baboon, “but we will see whether we cannot reason it out. Wait till I come down.”
So saying, the monkey stopped his motions, and to my horror I saw him unfastening his hands from the crossbar. Climbing down the yellow stick, he joined the whisky-jug and the nut-cracker, and all three searched the place and almost stumbled over me, but they did not see me.
“There is nothing,” said the baboon. “However, there can be no doubt that Schneider is dead, and the only thing to be regretted about it is that he did not die in the interest of science. If we had known that he was going to die anyhow, we might have subjected him to certain experiments.”
Strange to say, during this dream I had no thought of being a Mulligan; but my individuality was changed back to Mr Schneider. When I awoke Schneider was gone, and I was once more Mulligan.
“De mortuis nil nisi bene!” drawled out the nut-cracker. “But if Schneider had died in the interest of science, it would have been the first useful thing he ever did.” So saying, the nut-cracker clapped his jaws.