Silence as
he advanced to greet him, yet vibrations alive with currents and
discharges betraying the perturbed and disordered condition of his mind
and brain. There was evidently something wholly out of the usual in
the state of his thoughts. Yet, though strange, it was not altogether
distressing; it was not the impression that the broken and violent
atmosphere of the insane produces upon the mind. Dr. Silence realised
in a flash that here was a case of absorbing interest that might
require all his powers to handle properly. "I was watching you through my little peep-hole--as you saw," he began,
with a pleasant smile, advancing to shake hands. "I find it of the
greatest assistance sometimes----"

But the patient interrupted him at once. His voice was hurried and had
odd, shrill changes in it, breaking from high to low in unexpected
fashion. One moment it thundered, the next it almost squeaked. "I understand without explanation," he broke in rapidly. "You get the
true note of a man in this way--when he thinks himself unobserved. I
quite agree. Only, in my case, I fear, you saw very little. My case, as
you of course grasp, Dr. Silence, is extremely peculiar, uncomfortably
peculiar. Indeed, unless Sir William had positively assured me----"

"My friend has sent you to me," the doctor interrupted gravely, with
a gentle note of authority, "and that is quite sufficient. Pray, be
seated, Mr.----"

"Mudge--Racine Mudge," returned the other. "Take this comfortable one, Mr. Mudge," leading him to the fixed chair,
"and tell me your condition in your own way and at your own pace. My
whole day is at your service if you require it." Mr. Mudge moved towards the chair in question and then hesitated. "You will promise me not to use the narcotic buttons," he said,
before sitting down. "I do not need them. Also I ought to mention that
anything you think of vividly will reach my mind. That is apparently
part of my peculiar case." He sat down with a sigh and arranged his
thin legs and body into a position of comfort. Evidently he was very
sensitive to the thoughts of others, for the picture of the green
buttons had only entered the doctor's mind for a second, yet the other
had instantly snapped it up. Dr. Silence noticed, too, that Mr. Mudge
held on tightly with both hands to the arms of the chair. "I'm rather glad the chair is nailed to the floor," he remarked, as
he settled himself more comfortably. "It suits me admirably. The fact
is--and this is my case in a nutshell--which is all that a doctor of
your marvellous development requires--the fact is, Dr. Silence, I am a
victim of Higher Space. That's what's the matter with me--Higher Space!" The two looked at each other for a space in silence, the little patient
holding tightly to the arms of the chair which "suited him admirably,"
and looking up with staring eyes, his atmosphere positively trembling
with the waves of some unknown activity; while the doctor smiled kindly
and sympathetically, and put his whole person as far as possible into
the mental condition of the other. "Higher Space," repeated Mr. Mudge, "that's what it is. Now, do you
think you can help me with _that_?" There was a pause during which the men's eyes steadily searched down
below the surface of their respective personalities. Then Dr. Silence
spoke. "I am quite sure I can help," he answered quietly; "sympathy must
always help, and suffering always owns my sympathy. I see you have
suffered cruelly. You must tell me all about your case, and when I hear
the gradual steps by which you reached this strange condition, I have
no doubt I can be of assistance to you." He drew a chair up beside his interlocutor and laid a hand on his
shoulder for a moment. His whole being radiated kindness, intelligence,
desire to help. "For instance," he went on, "I feel sure it was the result of no mere
chance that you became familiar with the terrors of what you term
Higher Space; for Higher Space is no mere external measurement. It
is, of course, a spiritual state, a spiritual condition, an inner
development, and one that we must recognise as abnormal, since it is
beyond the reach of the world at the present stage of evolution. Higher
Space is a mythical state." "Oh!" cried the other, rubbing his birdlike hands with pleasure, "the
relief it is to be to talk to some one who can understand! Of course
what you say is the utter truth. And you are right that no mere chance
led me to my present condition, but, on the other hand, prolonged and
deliberate study. Yet chance in a sense now governs it. I mean, my
entering the condition of Higher Space seems to depend upon the chance
of this and that circumstance. For instance, the mere sound of that
German band sent me off. Not that all music will do so, but certain
sounds, certain vibrations, at once key me up to the requisite pitch,
and off I go. Wagner's music always does it, and that band must have
been playing a stray bit of Wagner. But I'll come to all that later. Only, first, I must ask you to send away your man from the spy-hole." John Silence looked up with a start, for Mr. Mudge's back was to the
door, and there was no mirror. He saw the brown eye of Barker glued to
the little circle of glass, and he crossed the room without a word and
snapped down the black shutter provided for the purpose, and then heard
Barker shuffle away along the passage. "Now," continued the little man in the chair, "I can begin. You have
managed to put me completely at my ease, and I feel I may tell you my
whole case without shame or reserve. You will understand. But you must
be patient with me if I go into details that are already familiar to
you--details of Higher Space, I mean--and if I seem stupid when I have
to describe things that transcend the power of language and are really
therefore indescribable." "My dear friend," put in the other calmly, "that goes without saying. To know Higher Space is an experience that defies description, and one
is obliged to make use of more or less intelligible symbols. But, pray,
proceed. Your vivid thoughts will tell me more than your halting words." An immense sigh of relief proceeded from the little figure half lost
in the depths of the chair. Such intelligent sympathy meeting him
half-way was a new experience to him, and it touched his heart at once. He leaned back, relaxing his tight hold of the arms, and began in his
thin, scale-like voice. "My mother was a Frenchwoman, and my father an Essex bargeman," he
said abruptly. "Hence my name--Racine and Mudge. My father died before
I ever saw him. My mother inherited money from her Bordeaux relations,
and when she died soon after, I was left alone with wealth and a
strange freedom. I had no guardian, trustees, sisters, brothers, or any
connection in the world to look after me. I grew up, therefore, utterly
without education.