"I work neither in time nor in space, Edward. My ideas are flashes—gleams—from the outer Cosmos, whence time is not. When they come, I work; when they don't, I await the signal."
"It sounds like an irregular schedule to follow," I smiled.
"When the hour strikes, I shall be there, Edward. Waiter! Bring me another brandy."
From this time on he began to get thoroughly drunk. I could only sit and watch hoping that ultimately he would find his way home. When closing time came he wished to fight the entire hotel management for suggesting that he leave. At last I coaxed him to go; and, strange to say, I was not once included in his outbursts of rage. Like a lamb he followed me half way home; and then another whim seized him. He was determined to make an excursion down an unsavoury by-street whose nature he recognized. In vain I sought to detain him. I reminded him that half the night was gone and that there was work to do tomorrow. He would listen to no word of mine, but, wrenching his arm free from me, lurched away. Whether to follow or not I was undecided. He turned into an alley and disappeared. The streets were dark and deserted. With a final imprecation almost as picturesque as one of Prospero's own, I went home and to bed.
At six, with the alarm clock still clanging in my ears, I looked into his bedroom. Prospero lay across the bed with most of his clothes on, unconscious. The sleeve of his left arm was rolled up, and I saw that the skin was covered with small puncture marks. On the floor a hypodermic syringe and his Russia leather wallet, both empty, were lying. I shook him savagely, but a groan was the only response. Damning Knowlton for thrusting such a roommate upon me, I went out to the factory.
Instead of going to work I sat in Knowlton's office waiting for him to arrive. I had made up my mind to have the case of Prospero out with him. Promptly at eight he came, bringing Prospero with him! The latter was as fresh appearing and as amiable as if nothing had happened. He had changed his tweeds for a long frock coat, slightly green with age, and upon his head was a silk hat of a famous vintage.
"Why, Ted, I'm surprised not to find you on the job this morning," grinned Knowlton. "I'm afraid Mr. de Fougère kept you up too late last night. Take him out to the laboratory, and if there's anything needed, wire New York to ship by express. I'll leave you two authority for any reasonable order."
In silence and deep disgust I led the way. As we entered the laboratory Prospero glanced about with an appraising eye.
"Very good, Teddy, very good. A well equipped little workshop," and he removed hat and coat, soaked a towel in fresh water, wrung it out, bound it about his head without further comment, lit a cigarette in defiance of the factory rules staring him in the face, and sat before the long bench table. I outlined the day's work and explained the experiments already under way. He critically picked up a beaker or two, sniffed their contents, and squinted at a rack of test tubes. I waited to see what would happen next. Our problem was one requiring a number of experiments to be performed in sequence. Among the assets of our firm were certain new chemical patents which were not yet in a commercial stage.
De Fougère finished his cigarette and then asked to see the laboratory diary and the inventory of chemicals on hand. These I placed in his hands. He smoked another cigarette in silence while he looked over my records.