think and act, when he perceived that a sickly light was filling the room. So dawned upon him Tuesday, the third of May, a date of dreadful import for his soul.
It was then that the Psychologist remembered that his arms were free.
In that wide reading of his to which I have several times alluded, and which replaced for him the coarser experiences of life. Professor Higginson had learned of Empire Builders and strong men who with no instrument but their good Saxon teeth had severed the most dreadful fetters. How then should he fail, whose two hands were at liberty, to divest himself of his mere hempen bonds?
He cursed himself for a fool—in modulated internal language—for not having thought of the thing before.
He first surveyed all that his eyes could gather. The box cord surrounded the Green Overcoat with a sevenfold stricture. It was continuous. It curled round the rungs and the legs of the chair, it tightly grasped his ankles and his knees. Somewhere or other it was knotted, and he must find that knot.
Heaven, or (as the Professor preferred to believe) Development has given to the human arm and hand an astonishing latitude and
