The white-haired reader, in whom I had now become deeply interested, no longer an unwelcome stranger, suspended his reading, laid down his manuscript, and looking me in the face, asked:
"Are you a believer?"
"No," I promptly answered.
"What part of the narrative do you question?"
"All of it."
"Have you not already investigated some of the statements I previously made?" he queried.
"Yes," I said; "but you had not then given utterance to such preposterous expressions."
"Is not the truth, the truth?" he answered.
"You ask me to believe impossibilities," I replied.
"Name one."