His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. Your purpose is done. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. To-morrow they will know the truth. You see, my riddle is solved. Mr.
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