what he said at the end of the process was startling enough.
"Very well, Babcock, listen to this. There was in that crowd a figure very different from the others—a mad figure, you will say. Most mournful eyes, Babcock, and—well, it's unpleasant, but it smelt of seaweed."
"Oh!" said Babcock. "Was it dressed?"
Mr. Higginson thought a minute.
"Yes, it was dressed," he ventured, groping his way. "Yes, it was dressed. … It was very oddly dressed. You know … you see … it had dripping wet clothes on, dark blue. But, Babcock" (here Higginson had an inspiration, and very proud of it he was), "it had no arms!"
"Oh," said Babcock, musing, "it had no arms."
There was a gap in their conversation, an end to Babcock's pushing, an end to Higginson's lying. A let up. An interval of repose.
It was Babcock who broke it.
"Well," he sighed, "I can't make head or tail of all this, Higginson! Anyhow, I must be going. It 's interesting. I know you think you had these experiences, but, frankly, all that kind of thing 's beyond me. I don't think it 's there. I think it floats in men's brains—false, like dreams," and he got up to go.
