“I am perfectly serious,” replied Welsh, keenly. “I’m certain the thing is quite possible.”
He half closed his eyes and ruminated in silence. The doctor watched him—fascinated, afraid. Somehow or other he felt that he was already a kind of Guy Fawkes. There was something so unlawful in Welsh’s expression.
They sat there without speaking for about ten minutes, and then all of a sudden Welsh sprang up with a shout of laughter, slapping first his own leg and then the doctor’s back.
“By Gad, I’ve got it!” he cried. “I have it!”
And he had; hence this tale.