MIRZARBEAU did not let the grass grow under his feet; three days after that interview with Miss Baker, the whole of London was placarded with his pretensions. The posters were at any rate masterpieces of simplicity—

A good deal of time and money must have been spent on these announcements. They can hardly have been put up by any of the regular agencies, who might, for their own sakes, be expected to exercise some sort of censorship, and the professor was hardly the man to possess the requisite business ability. Whose then had been the organizing hand? I thought of Dornton.

The placards did not remain long in position; the most of them were torn down in a few hours, and subsequently actions were entered against Mirzarbeau by the owners of hoardings. This and a little cheap wit at "The Beast's" expense was all that then happened, for absolutely no attention was paid to the assertion that he was responsible for the mysterious end of Waterloo station. He was by no means the first who had claimed a hand in that inexplicable affair; at different times quite a couple of hundred people had given themselves up to the police as the perpetrators, and the authorities were too utterly weary of these baseless confessions to pay any heed to what looked on the face of it to be the bald statement of a lunatic. Such attention as Mirzarbeau attracted— it was comparatively little — was, therefore, entirely from those who wished for something fresh to laugh at; to some of the lesser comic papers he was an unqualified blessing. They did not, indeed, attempt to make fun of him — it was impossible to throw ridicule upon such a farce; but the simple report of the Beast's sayings and doings, coupled with a few snap-shots of his appearance, supplied everything that was wanted.

In the middle of all this Mirzarbeau announced that he would give a lecture, and the Albert Hall was engaged for the occasion. Some slight protest was made, but the general opinion was that England being a free country the professor was at perfect liberty to disseminate any opinion that he might choose. Even the few who were opposed to him did not for one moment suppose that he would obtain any adherents.

I told Miss Baker of the projected lecture, and we arranged that I should accompany her to it. She still held to her opinion that when people had grown used to Mirzarbeau, and the ridiculous side of him had staled, he would make headway in his ambitions. It was useless for me to argue against her— vain to point out that even the hysterical Finis Mundi Society, who pinned their faith on the imaginary comet, had refused to accept the Beast dogma.

"It'll work," she insisted. " I don't know how, but I'm sure it will. Mr. Dornton is the man who's running the show, and he means to work something. Folk are so hysterical now-adays, they'll grab at any tomfoolery that'll make a new fad."

I laughed, and refused to be convinced. It occurred to me that she was amusing herself at my expense, and I had no intention of playing that rôle.