It turned out later that Gran'pa had already approached half-a-dozen medical men on the question of the operation, but they had all refused to undertake such a case.

So the next day I had the following advertisement inserted in the Agony Column of the Times:—

IN THE INTERESTS OF SCIENCE.—Old gentleman of ninety-five, with A1 brains but B1 physique, desires to get into touch with a reliable and enterprising surgeon, who believes in the new theory of rejuvenation, with a view to immediate Glandular Graftings.

I must admit that the wording was reminiscent of the typical matrimonial appeal, but as the advertiser's identity was concealed from the British public by means of a box number, it seemed to matter very little what method was employed so long as the result was a success.

I am thankful to say that it was. In spite of my fears that professional etiquette might stand in the way, I received over twenty replies from medical men living in various parts of the country. All of them were willing, and even anxious, to perform the operation, but apparently not one was in possession of the necessary glands. This was an annoying detail, but such setbacks appear to be inevitable in the initial stages of all great enterprises. The day may come when interstitial glands will form part of the medical, or rather, physiological equipment of every practitioner in the land, but meanwhile we had to hustle for ourselves.

So I advertised for a monkey as well.

"Gorilla, chimpanzee or ourang-outang wanted at once," I scribbled on a scrap of notepaper.

Then I judiciously added:—

"For travelling showman. Must be healthy and virile. State price and how long the animal has been resident in England."

A couple of days later half-a-dozen replies were received and Gran'pa and I spent the evening in sorting out the most suitable doctor and ape, preparatory to bringing them together in this novel "triangle" of surgeon, man and monkey.

"You've done very well, George, so far," said Gran'pa. "That was a bright idea of mine to offer you ..."

"I've told you before, sir, that I should have helped in any case."

"Have it your own way, my boy. So long as I'm satisfied, what's it matter?"

"Not a cent. But I won't have you thinking that greed is my only motive. I'm keenly interested in the experiment for quite different reasons. Firstly, you're a relative of mine, and I want to see you happy and contented. Secondly, I feel like one of the pioneers or patrons of modern science."

"You'll have the biggest chance of your life as still another sort of pioneer, if this is a success."

"What do you mean?" I asked."Ah! It is just an idea, at present. But it'll set the world talking, if I decide to take it up."

"Do tell me, Gran'pa!"

"No! One thing at a time, my boy. Just concentrate on getting that five thousand dollars first, and ..."

"Will you leave that infernal bonus out of the question!" I cried.

"I apologize! Just concentrate on my rejuvenation, then! Oh, by the way, I want you to come round to my solicitor in the morning and sign the agreement I've drawn up."

"You've done nothing so absurd, I hope, as to put this idiotic bargain on paper."

"No! It's on parchment. I believe in everything being shipshape—in case of accidents. Now, don't start arguing, George!"

Gran'pa is the most obstinate old man I know; so I refrained from further discussion, and the following day repaired with him to his solicitors at Lincoln's Inn.

There, we signed a contract which must have been unique in the annals of legal literature. It ran thus:—

MEMORANDUM OF AGREEMENT made this eighteenth day of October, One thousand nine hundred and twenty-one, BETWEEN GEORGE BARNETT and CHARLES HENRY HADLEY, both of Northcote, Airesdale Avenue, Richmond, in the County of Surrey.

WHEREBY IT IS AGREED as follows:—

1. George Barnett shall make himself reasonably conversant with the possibilities of rejuvenation by means of the grafting of interstitial glands; he shall do all that is in his power to hasten the application of the process to the said Charles Henry Hadley, to make arrangements for the operation; and to provide suitable comforts and accommodation during the patient's convalescence.

2. Furthermore, George Barnett shall apply himself diligently to helping the said Charles Henry Hadley to maintain a state of healthy activity during the remaining years of the latter's life.

3. In consideration of which, Charles Henry Hadley shall pay to George Barnett the following sums of money:

(a) Five thousand dollars on the receipt of a medical certificate that the operation has been successful.

(b) Ten thousand dollars for each whole year during which the said Charles Henry Hadley shall remain alive, commencing to reckon as from this date, and payment being made within one month after the expiration of each year.

(c) On the death of Charles Henry Hadley, the said George Barnett or his heirs shall receive one-fiftieth part of the former's estate for each completed year of life.

AS WITNESS the hands of both contracting parties.

We signed the document, and I turned to Gran'pa.

"Er—that clause about one-fiftieth part of the estate." I said. "Does it mean that you expect to add another fifty years to your life?"

"It does!" he replied.

I whistled."Phew! I shall be a doddering old man myself by then."

"Nonsense! You'll avoid that by adopting my methods. Only you'll start earlier in life."

"Never! When my glands give out—I shall!"

"The same sort of argument used to be brought forward about vaccination—the 'Let-Nature-take-its-own-course' cry.... Even to-day there are anti-vaccination cranks."

"That's different. Vaccination is a safeguard against disease."

"Quite so. And this is a safeguard against something much worse than disease. It's an antidote to Death."

I could again feel the inclination to argue surging up in me, but I remembered my dignity and desisted.

"I wish you would tell me about this other 'pioneer' stunt of yours," I said, as we emerged into the sunlit courtyard.

"In the fulness of time."

"I'm terribly curious."

"You won't be able to contain yourself when you do know. It's been one of your dreams—and mine. Well! You look like having your chance at last, George. If only the new glands work," he added, in parenthesis.

There was a possibility, of course, that this other secret and alluring project of Gran'pa's was merely a bait to keep my enthusiasm alive. I suggested this to him, in the hope that he would relent and satisfy my curiosity.

"No, George! You must be patient. If you'd lived as long as I have you'd learn to take things in logical order. First the glands, then—the glory!"

We had now reached the busy street again—a new world after the peaceful vicinity of those old offices—and Gran'pa bought an evening paper. He was always buying papers now!

Glancing hurriedly through the headings, he gave vent to a sudden exclamation.

"Ah!"

"What is it?" I asked, looking over his shoulder.

He retreated into a doorway, sheltered from the stream of hurrying pedestrians and there pointed to a heading:—

TEST CASE.

And underneath:—

EXPERIMENT ON AN AGED CONVICT.

I read the following details:—

"A Herald dispatch from San Francisco states that after a convict was hanged at San Quentin Penitentiary, yesterday, for the murder of his mother-in-law, the murderer's interstitial glands were cut out and transplanted in a sixty-year-old convict as an experiment for the purpose of verifying the recent theory of rejuvenation by this process. The doctors expect that new physical and mental strength will be thereby given to the aged convict."

"There you are!" cried Gran'pa. "That's the Americans all over. They've begun already." He looked at me wistfully. "I did hope that I might have had the honor of being the first."

"You'll be a good second, anyhow," I said encouragingly. "Cheer up!"He was about to fold the paper and put it into his pocket, when we caught sight of the following:—

BOLT FROM THE BLUE.

"Considerable excitement was caused in Upper Richmond Road, Richmond, this morning by a monkey suddenly dropping from the overhanging branch of a tree into the lap of a lady seated on the top of a passing 'bus.

"Pursued by the other passengers, it scrambled down the rail at the rear and rushed across the street, where it tried to scale a garden wall. After a few minutes exciting chase, it was eventually captured by a constable, who, much to the amusement of the crowd, took it to the police station.

"Questioned by our correspondent, the authorities stated that, although no charge had been preferred against the animal for causing an obstruction, it had been placed temporarily under lock and key, and is now awaiting its owner."

"Well, I'm ... er ... poor little brute!" exclaimed Gran'pa.

"Are you going to claim it?" I asked.

He hesitated a moment, but, brief as his contemplation of the matter was, I think that he immediately realized the impossibility of an old man of ninety-five calling at a police station for a monkey—particularly at a time like the present. Naturally, his secret would be guessed at once.

"No!" he said, with quiet dignity. "I shan't want it in any case, now. They'll probably send it to the Dogs' Home at Battersea, or Scotland Yard—or the Zoo. Let them!... Er ... as I was going to say, George, about that sixty-year-old convict, the Americans are a very go-ahead race. I should like you to pop over to the States some day...."

Already, he was beginning to look into the rosy future!

"We must travel," he went on, pensively. "I'm getting bored. I've always wanted to see the world, but when I was younger I hadn't the money; and when I grew older I hadn't the necessary health and vitality. Life is full of anomalies like that, George."

"It is," I agreed, ruefully.

"But this business will do away with such difficulties. There's a big future before us."

I responded to that last word. It had a generous sound about it and awoke ambitions I had buried over a dozen years ago, when an unkind fate had allowed me to pass into the soul-destroying ranks of the Civil Service. Ugh! How I had vegetated since that ghastly day on which the list of "successful" candidates had been published! How the spirit of adventure had been slowly suffocated! How flabby-minded I had become! How mellow! But now at last there was a door opening. My red-tape-bound soul stirred in its prison and peered out at a strip of sunlit country where free men made of life a joyous adventure.

"You're a great man, Gran'pa," I said. "You make me feel quite old beside you."

He dug me good-humoredly in the ribs.

"There are times, George, when I have thought you were rather a stick-in-the-mud. But I've put it down to your job, and the fact that you are British."

"I wish my brains had fizzled out in the examination room and I'd run away to sea."

"Ah! That's the spirit. You'll be useless on this new job I shall have for you, unless you're full of fire. It'll require courage, initiative and plenty of go. There's only one member of the whole family who has those qualities at present."

I waited for what I thought would be the inevitable reference to himself. But it didn't come.

"You can't guess who it is, George?"

"No——!"

"It's Molly, of course. It was she who first put me on to this gland business. That, if you like, required courage and initiative. There's a great future before Molly. She's being lost in England, and I hope when the time comes that she'll join us in the venture."

He still wouldn't tell me what this Great Idea was, but when I reached home that evening a thought suddenly struck me. I went in search of Molly, caught sight of her sitting on the top branch of the walnut tree, and shouted for her to come down.

She descended slowly and carefully.

"You shouldn't have gone up there," I said. "It is very dangerous. I thought you couldn't climb the walnut tree."

"Nor did I, till I tried hard, Daddy."

"How often have you done this?"

"Only twice. I thought the monkey might have built a nest."

I dared not tell her of its present abode in case she began clamoring for its return. So I asked, innocently:

"And had he?"

"I don't think so. But it was fun up there! I wish you'd come, Daddy. Gran'pa says he will when he's got those new glands."

"That reminds me," I said. "Has he told you anything about what he intends doing when he has the glands? I mean anything more important than just climbing trees."

Molly looked down in pensive consideration. She had evidently been caught unawares.

"Out with it, my child!"

"Daddy—I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I promised Gran'pa I wouldn't tell. He made me swear, like this."

She moistened her right forefinger with the tip of her tongue and drew an imaginary cross in front of her throat and chest. (The wicked old sinner, intimidating my twelve-year-old offspring in this manner!)

"Are we all in this—little adventure?" I persisted.

She held her lips tightly together and stared at me in mute appeal.

Evidently we were all in it! Her eyes shone and I could see that she would have gloried in telling me. Nevertheless, for her oath's sake, I pressed her no further.

"It's all very, very mysterious," I murmured.

"Never mind, Daddy," she whispered. "You'll soon know all about it!"

It was very good of her to try and soothe my wounded feelings thus, and I felt more determined than ever to hasten that operation on Gran'pa and reap the rich reward which was apparently awaiting all three of us. Far too much time had already been wasted. To Gran'pa it may have represented only one little negligible week in a life of nearly a hundred years, but to me it seemed ages since my enthusiasm had been first awakened. I was eager to complete the contract, to handle that five thousand dollars, to witness the rejuvenation of my aged ancestor-in-law, and, above all, to escape from my Government prison into the great wide spaces of the earth.

As if in answer to my wild desires, Gran'pa came out and joined us in the garden, waving a letter aloft in childish glee.

"Just come by post, George!" he cried.

"What has?"

"A note from that man with the gorilla. He wants us to go round and see it this evening."

I read the letter with feverish interest. It was written on a scrap of dirty paper with a blunt pencil, and told us that "Alfred" had been landed in England only five weeks previously. He was in "excellent health," as "hard as nails," extremely "vichous," but capable of being "broken in and trained"—if that was what we wanted him for!

"This is the very thing!" I exclaimed, presently. "We'll go at once."

"But—dinner, George?" stammered Gran'pa.

"Oh! That can wait. He says between seven and eight. It is nearly seven now, and it's silly to risk getting there too late."

We hurried indoors, bustled into our hats and coats, and made for the station.

Three-quarters of an hour later we were ushered into the presence of the "Great Animal King," a travelling showman of huge and formidable dimensions, but with the manners of a babe.

"This 'ere animull, gentlemen," he explained, as though he was addressing an audience at a fair, "is one as I bought about four weeks ago at an auction sale. I wasn't really in need of it, as you might say, but it was goin' pretty cheap, and I thought it might come in 'andy later on. An' now I 'ave got it, I can't bring myself to like it, somehow. All the other animulls know me and, if I might say so, we has a slight affection for one another. But this brute's the queerest cuss I ever struck—ups and snarls at me every time I approaches the cage, an' begins rattling the bars like a maniac. He's as quiet as a mouse with the other chaps. It's me he don't seem to like." He spat expressively. "There's the truth in a nutshell. Now we'll go and take a look at him."

We withdrew from the elaborately fitted caravan in which we had foregathered, and began picking our way through a maze of ropes, tent-pegs and that general litter of obstacles which invariably surrounds the tents of a travelling circus or menagerie. As we approached the largest of the tents, a deep-throated roar burst on us like a sudden clap of thunder. It was followed by a medley of trumpet-like calls and bellowings. The whole place, which had been as silent as the grave when we had first arrived, was now a den of enraged and ravening animals. It was as if they were trying their utmost to scare us away.

"They seem to be very—noisy," I ventured.

"Queer things," answered the Great Animal King. "They spots a stranger at once at this time o' night. Must be the smell."

I glanced at Gran'pa, trotting along by my side, and wondered whether it was he or I who most irritated their sensitive nostrils.

"Here we are!" said our companion, lifting a great flap of canvas and allowing us to enter.

We passed into the huge arena, waited a moment until the electric light was switched on, and then began gazing at the startled animals pacing backwards and forwards behind the iron bars of their prisons."That's a fine brute," said the King, pointing to a great lion, which suddenly paused and eyed Gran'pa with interest.

"Y-e-s!" I said.

I didn't like the business a bit. There was something so uncanny in the spectacle of us three poor little humans surrounded by all his collection of carnivorous and hungry-looking beasts. It didn't feel safe, and the object of our visit didn't seem right and fair. It may have been an epitome of brains versus beef—civilization versus barbarism—but the whole affair savored too much of wicked cunning and evil intentions. The right and gentlemanly thing would have been for Gran'pa to have gone into that gorilla's cage unarmed—and fought for his glands....

I turned and looked at the old man. He was very quiet and solemn—obsessed, no doubt, by the same thoughts as myself.

"This way, gentlemen," said our companion.

We went forward again and a few moments later the first part of our Quest for Youth was over.

"There!" said his Majesty, with a contemplative expectoration. "That's Alfred!"

For fully half a minute, there was no movement in the cage, and we merely stood gazing at a heap of slowly rising and falling straw.

Then an arm and leg protruded and stretched themselves. They were followed by one of the most hideous-looking faces imaginable. Deep-sunk, wicked little eyes glared at us from beneath heavy, overhanging ridges of bone; a cavernous mouth yawned wide open, with dreadful rows of huge teeth fringing its black-gummed edges; a thick tuft of hair oscillated up and down above the low forehead; and suddenly a nerve-shattering roar reverberated against the wooden walls of the cage.

With a bound the animal sprang forward, flung its arm between two of the iron bars and tried to grab Gran'pa by his most cherished adornment—his long white beard.

"Look out!" I cried.

The old man jumped nimbly aside, giving a shout of amazement and clumsily treading on my toes.

I steadied him.

"You really ought to be more careful," I said, glancing at the Animal King, who was chuckling to himself.

"That chap's the very devil when he's roused," said his owner. "Quiet, Alfred!"

Alfred restrained himself for a moment or two, watching Gran'pa as a cat watches a mouse. There was evidently something in the old man which aroused his curiosity, as well as his anger. Or it may have been an instinctive understanding of the reason of the visit. Who knows?

"George," said Gran'pa, with heartless precision, "we shan't do better than this."

A roar from the cage greeted this remark, and Alfred flung himself at the bars and rattled and shook at them in abandoned fury.

"May I ask, gentlemen, if you're going to try and train it?" inquired the King. "Or do you want it wild?"

Gran'pa looked at him for a second or two, abstractedly.

"I don't care how wild it is. In fact the wilder, the stronger, and the more vicious—the better."

"Then you've the goods in that cage. I've handled some of these brutes in my time. But this 'un takes the biscuit."

"No trace of consumption, I suppose?" asked Gran'pa, like a young bridegroom who has been converted to Eugenics.

"I'd eat me 'at! Look at 'im!"

Roar upon roar beat the air, as Alfred told us in his dumb, animal-like way exactly what he would do if he had only a chance.

"Quite so!" said Gran'pa. "Let's get out of here!"

Ten minutes later arrangements had been made for the safe custody of the animal up to and including the following Wednesday, when we hoped to have Gran'pa ready to receive a couple of Alfred's glands.

It was indeed a great day's work, and when we left that home of brute barbarism I couldn't help patting the old man's back.

"Satisfied?" I asked.

He answered with the deepest emotion.

"George!" he said. "I'm not a greedy man. All I ask for is about a quarter of that brute's energy. Then I'll be happy!"