But Simon did not reply. He appeared in a deep sleep.
"I thought as much," said the little man. "His nature has not been sufficiently prepared for such work. I suppose you had breakfast before you came here?"
I assured him that Simon had breakfasted on kidneys and bacon; after which he had made considerable inroads into a cold chicken, with perchance half a pound of cold ham to keep it company. Besides which, he had taken three large breakfast cups of chocolate.
"Ah, that explains somewhat. Still, I think we have done a fair morning's work. We've seen that our man is alive."
"But do you think there is any hope of finding him?"
"I'm sure there is, only be patient."
"But what must I do?"
"Well, take this man to see some of the sights of London until three o'clock, then come home to dinner. After dinner he'll be sleepy. Let him sleep, if he will, until nine o'clock; then bring him here again; but let him have no supper until after I have done with him."
"Nine o'clock to-night! Why, do you know, that takes away another day?
There will only want eight clear days to Christmas Eve."
"I can't help that, sir," said the little professor, testily; "you should have come before. But that is the way. Our science, which is really the queen of sciences, is disregarded; only one here and there comes to us, and then we are treated as no other scientific man would be treated. Never mind, our day will come. One day all the sciences shall bow the knee to us, for we are the real interpreters of the mysteries of nature."