He watched very attentively and made certain that he was not
mistaken. An object on the mantelpiece--it was a blue vase--disappeared
from view. It passed out of sight together with the portion of the
marble mantelpiece on which it rested. Next, that part of the fire and
grate and brass fender immediately below it vanished entirely, as though
a slice had been taken clean out of them. Dr. Silence then understood that something between him and these objects
was slowly coming into being, something that concealed them and
obstructed his vision by inserting itself in the line of sight between
them and himself. He quietly awaited further results before going in. First he saw a thin perpendicular line tracing itself from just above
the height of the clock and continuing downwards till it reached the
woolly fire-mat. This line grew wider, broadened, grew solid. It was no
shadow; it was something substantial. It defined itself more and more. Then suddenly, at the top of the line, and about on a level with the
face of the clock, he saw a round luminous disc gazing steadily at him. It was a human eye, looking straight into his own, pressed there against
the spy-hole. And it was bright with intelligence. Dr. Silence held his
breath for a moment--and stared back at it. Then, like some one moving out of deep shadow into light, he saw the
figure of a man come sliding sideways into view, a whitish face
following the eye, and the perpendicular line he had first observed
broadening out and developing into the complete figure of a human being. It was the patient. He had apparently been standing there in front of
the fire all the time. A second eye had followed the first, and both of
them stared steadily at the spy-hole, sharply concentrated, yet with a
sly twinkle of humour and amusement that made it impossible for the
doctor to maintain his position any longer. He opened the door and went in quickly. As he did so he noticed for the
first time the sound of a German band coming in gaily through the open
ventilators. In some intuitive, unaccountable fashion the music
connected itself with the patient he was about to interview. This sort
of prevision was not unfamiliar to him. It always explained itself
later. The man, he saw, was of middle age and of very ordinary appearance; so
ordinary, in fact, that he was difficult to describe--his only
peculiarity being his extreme thinness. Pleasant--that is,
good--vibrations issued from his atmosphere and met Dr. 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 able 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.